“Sweetheart! It looks lovely! And Camellia. Thank you so much for helping my Annie pull this off.”
Cam knew how badly Annie wanted to reclaim herself, but Cam stepped forward and gave Senator Schulz a small hug to make nice.
“I was happy to help. You know Annie’s helped me a number of times. I was happy to do something for her for a change.”
“Well Annie’s got a good friend, don’t you, pumpkin?”
“I do,” Annie hugged her dad, but the eye roll couldn’t have been clearer from Cam’s vantage. Fortunately or unfortunately, the senator then seemed to be swarmed with a dozen others demanding his attention. Cam and Annie snuck away.
“Who are the other VIPs, pumpkin?” Cam said when they’d made their break.
“That’s Goddess Pumpkin to you,” Annie said.
They turned together so Annie could narrate. Derrick had broken free of his harem and was trailed by a trio of goons, loudly complaining about the whiskey quality.
“Should be top-shelf stuff for all the money I spent tonight!”
Joel Jaimeson seemed to be trying to edge in, perhaps to explain the goal of authenticity, which during prohibition would have been bathtub gin, but the more well-dressed of the cronies kept thwarting him.
They made their way to Senator Schulz.
“Joel’s like a terrier, isn’t he?” Annie leaned toward Cam and whispered.
“No offense meant to terriers, I’m sure.”
“You’re right. Strike that.”
“So I know Derrick,” Cam said, returning to sorting VIPs. “Do you know any others?”
“Slick guy is Melvin. Dad doesn’t like him,” Annie said.
“Melvin?”
“Big broker—investment banker or something.”
“Okay. And the other two?”
“Not sure, they probably work with Derrick. And then him,” Annie pointed. A stocky man eased in, the others parting for him, so obviously he was an important member of their little circle. “He was at Dad and Elle’s wedding.” She paused and frowned, then pointed across the patio to a woman with long dark hair. “With her. It wasn’t a huge affair. I don’t think Dad knows him, so he must know Elle.”
The thick man shook the senator’s hand. Cam could see they knew each other now. She also saw that whatever he said annoyed Senator Schulz. After that, Derrick whispered something to him and the thick man started to argue.
“Just go!” Derrick shouted.
The man scowled and left on some errand, possibly concocted by Derrick to get him out of the senator’s way. He didn’t look pleased.
Annie continued to narrate as Senator Schulz held court in the garden. Cam was chuckling before Annie had finished her presentation.
Annie glared at her. “And there are some media people who need attention. I think they’re more your type than mine.”
Cam got the hint. It was time to get back to work, and the media was as good a place to start as any. She recognized Roger Griggs, editor of the
Roanoke Tribune
, and Rob’s boss. He was talking to someone else, which was just as well. It left her free to focus on Toni Howe, a television talk show host she had worked with in the past and enjoyed. Cam was happy to approach her.
“Toni, it’s nice to see you,” Cam said.
“You, too, Cam. This should definitely make news, and Mr. Windermere was generous enough to buy a media table.”
“In addition to his own? That
was
generous.” Cam had wondered how they’d managed to all be at this exclusive, expensive event. Windermere probably hoped to influence the flow of information.
At the sound of his name, Derrick turned from some other conversation, grinned at Cam, and bit Toni’s earlobe. “Can’t be said I don’t love the media,” he said.
As soon as he left, Toni took a tissue and wiped her ear.
Cam gave her a questioning look, so Toni stepped closer.
“None of us could afford to be here without him, and it’s newsworthy. Unfortunately, I am additionally indentured. He’s signed as the primary sponsor of my show for the spring season.”
Cam felt bad for her. Toni was a decent person: respectable, ethical, and kind. Cam hated that the lech had his thumb on her.
“I hope a much better sponsor comes along soon,” Cam whispered.
“I hear you have an in with Nelly’s Nurseries,” Toni said.
“So do you! Just call her. Use my name if it helps, but if you promise to do a couple of gardening features, I’m sure she’d be interested.”
“I may have to do just that. Because I can’t take
this
.” She eyed Derrick Windermere cautiously.
A triangle tinkled, and Cam was as startled as anybody to realize it was suppertime. Samantha was gesturing with her arm, and the patrons were heading in to find their names among the place cards.
Supper was held in a large carpeted hall in the main building. The ceilings were high, and moonlight came in through the windows. Out-of-season hibiscus and exotic bird of paradise, which Cam thought must spend the evenings in a hothouse, lined the edges, but the rest of the decorations were strictly vintage.
Cam and Annie ducked all the way through. They were eating in the kitchen. She supposed some people might be offended not to merit the thousand-dollar seats when they’d planned the event. Joel Jaimeson was certainly out there, doing Samantha’s bidding, no doubt. But it was a nice break for Cam and Annie, if they ignored Petunia’s cursing, anyway.
“Tunia, couldn’t somebody else have helped Nick tonight?” Cam asked.
“As a matter of fact, Nick and I are trying to set aside a little money for the baby. Paying somebody
else
to work doesn’t help!”
“Sheesh, I know. I don’t mean you can’t work. I just thought long days can’t be good for you.”
“I don’t need a lecture.”
Annie touched Cam’s arm to remind her Petunia would never be a person that could be reasoned with. She was a challenge to be gotten around. Cam would have to work with Nick to figure out how to trick Petunia into resting more.
Cam tried to casually clear some of the appetizer plates that had been returned to the kitchen between bites of her own food so Nick and Petunia would have a smaller job, but each time she did, Petunia glared. Finally, Annie gestured and Cam took Petunia’s hand and led her out the servant’s exit.
“So, how are you feeling?”
“Better than when I was throwing up.”
“You were supposed to have an ultrasound, weren’t you?”
“Last week,” she admitted.
“Did you find out if I’m an auntie or an uncle?” Cam joked.
That finally got a laugh. “We don’t want to know.”
“Do you need any help with the nursery? Painting? Putting together furniture?”
“Well . . . I did have a stencil I wanted to do . . . You’re more talented at that than I am.”
“A painted stencil?”
“A trim, all the way around.”
“I would be thrilled. How about I do it over Thanksgiving weekend? It’s a long weekend, and if the fumes bother you, Daddy would love to have you there for a night or two.” Nick and Petunia had a nice condominium, but it wasn’t so much space that they could get very far away if there were paint fumes.
“Yeah. That’s good.”
Petunia didn’t even notice when they went back inside that all the appetizer dishes had been put in the dishwasher.
“They want dessert soon,” Nick said.
With dessert, Cam and Annie had to distribute game roles.
“Do you know who got top bid?” Cam asked.
“Yes,” Annie said, but she walked out without elaborating.
• • •
• • •
R
eentering the hubbub, Cam wondered if she’d blocked a lot of the tension the last time she was with the group. Waiters were pouring coffee and giving out chocolate mousse or custard, but there seemed to be crackling animosity all around.
Holden Hobbes spoke from a podium, and she felt sure that should calm most people. He directed them on what to do as they received their game roles, noting unless they had a starred role, it would be best to finish dessert before opening their instructions. Cam cruised the perimeter, distributing envelopes as she went. She listened for arguing, and finally heard muffled yet unhappy-sounding tones.
Prior to supper, she’d thought people were having fun. Now she could feel the friction in the air. She tried to sense the source and could have sworn it was with the harem, though the supposed sultan was now nowhere in sight. She thought Annie might have given him his role first, as he was one of the top candidates to be murdered.
Cam could see a lot of people doing what she thought they were supposed to. The trouble was, with so many people rushing off at once, she couldn’t check off the list in her head that this was all legitimate. She wasn’t actually paranoid so much as, for a PR manager,
practicing
paranoia that had served her well more than once.
Whatever the case, the dining room started to clear, and Cam, left out of the loop by Annie’s plan, guessed she might be wisest just to follow the noise. She’d just have to see where that took her.
As she started to move toward the door, a man she didn’t recognize rose, took a microphone, and said he had a treat for everyone in the garden. For want of anything better to do, Cam followed this last exodus.
The garden was lit with small lanterns, but a spotlight shone on a low stage. It was clear where they were supposed to focus their attention.
As they waited, Cam spotted her dad on the edges without Vivian. He looked around and then wandered off toward the golf course. She thought the role-play instructions were being followed. A few others were trickling off, some alone, others in pairs or even small groups.
Evangeline Patrick, beautiful, and much younger than her blueblooded husband, sauntered out with the hair and sequined dress of a 1920s mob moll. She played to the audience beautifully as she slinked up to the stage. She glided up the few steps, thrust a shapely leg through a slit in her skirt, and began to belt out an impressive rendition of “Big Spender.”
The audience was enthralled. Cam knew the song was written four decades after the party was meant to be set, but it was suited to the mood of the role play, the high-end classic event, and of course, the fact that it was a fund-raiser.
When Evangeline had reached the end of the song, right on cue, a loud crash rang out, drowning the last notes, at least for the back of the crowd.
Cam was confused, momentarily. The game was meant to have a gunshot, but when that followed, she let herself fall behind the players in the role play.
It didn’t take long for a scream to bring the crowd running.
Cam followed Jared Koontz. It seemed the most logical step, since she was charged with the PR for this event and he was the star.
Halfway up the fairway for the first hole, they reached the crowd.
“Excuse me. Police,” Jared said as he worked his way through the crowd. He had a pointed nose and prominent chin that, paired with his overacting, Cam thought gave the impression of Dudley Do-Right.
People parted and gave him room. This was, after all, meant to be his fund-raiser and he’d been highlighted as sheriff.
“Damn! That’s realistic!” he said before falling back into his role. “Is there a doctor?” he whispered back to Cam.
Cam shook her head. “I’m sure it’s safe to say he’s dead, sir.”
He was right about it looking realistic. Derrick Windermere had blood coming from his head and was staring at the trees above him. Cam thought Annie must have found a theater friend to help with makeup.
“Were there witnesses? Who saw this travesty of justice?”
Cam thought it was possible he’d watched too much John Wayne, then remembered a favorite uncle who loved John Wayne, and forgave him.
The strange thing was no one came forward. The crime was meant to have three witnesses, but they were being awfully closed-lipped.
Cam’s phone buzzed.
“Yeah?”
“Where are you?” It was Annie.
“At the murder scene. Where are you?”
“You are
not
at the murder scene. Vivian Macy is sprawled here with three witnesses and nobody else.”
“Vivian Macy is the victim?”
“By a landslide.”
Cam squeezed her way through the crowd.
“Are you sure it wasn’t Derrick Windermere?”
“Positive! I sorted the roles myself.”
“Crap!”
“What?” Annie asked.
“We have the worst luck! Where are you?”
“Where are you?” Annie countered.
“First fairway,” Cam said.
“Wrong nine—we’re on the other side of the clubhouse.”
Cam clinched her phone shut. “Turns out we have a second murder!” Cam shouted. “This one seems to have witnesses—maybe they will shed light on all of this. That way!” She pointed.
She knew for sure the one wouldn’t solve the other, as this one was apparently real, but she had to get everyone away from the scene.
When she was alone with the real body, she stepped in to check for a pulse. Her stomach clenched. Nothing could be done for Derrick now, so she called Jake. Jake was Annie’s boyfriend, but also a police detective Cam felt she could mostly trust. The last thing they needed was a panic.
