Claire Gulliver #02 - Washington Weirdos (15 page)

“Jack, Jack!” Her voice was only a croak. She dashed across the kitchen, jumping over the mess on the floor. When she got to the door she turned around and gestured frantically. “Hurry! Hurry! It was him! It was the guy from the Mall. Did you see him? He just went out the door.” Her shaking hand opened the door.

Comprehension chased the confusion from Jack’s face. He paused long enough to admonish her to stay where she was before he burst through the door, and then he was gone too.

“Claire, what is it?” Doug hovered over her protectively.

“That man, the one in the chef’s outfit, he was the one who attacked me in the Mall. He was here. Right here in the kitchen!” She looked at Doug in horror. “What was he doing here?

“He ran out that way. Jack went after him,” she continued. Her body trembled so violently she needed to lean against the door jam for support.

Doug’s eyes flashed his anger. “I’m going to find Wiley. You wait here. They were prepared for something, now we’ll see how well.” And he went back through the kitchen the way they had come in.

That’s when Claire realized there was another disturbance in progress.

“Get that dog out of here. What a mess!” Neil was so furious his voice was high pitched, almost a scream. “Who let that...that dog...in here?” His anger caused him to sputter.

Amy quaked in front of him, her lower lip jutting out and quivering. JoJo came into the kitchen and hurried to her sister’s side.

“Amy, I told you not to let him out.” Her whisper sounded loud in the hushed room. Everyone else froze, not knowing who should do what.

“But I didn’t. I just...” she hiccupped, “I just wanted to make sure he wasn’t lonely. But...” she started crying, “but he got out when I opened the door and he was being naughty...” a heartbreaking sob erupted, “and he ran from me.”

“And see the mess he made?” Neil showed her no mercy. Her tears didn’t move him one bit.

Claire moved in to hug Amy. “Don’t cry Amy. Tuffy was being bad. But he didn’t mean to cause so much trouble, did you, Tuffy?” They both looked at the dog, who paused a moment to return their look, his pointy ears at attention, his head cocked to one side, his open mouth covered with green. He seemed to know they were talking about him. Then he turned back to the green mess, gobbling as much as he could off the floor.

“JoJo, can you grab his collar and drag him out of that mess? Be careful not to get any on your dress.”

Claire turned to look at the red-faced Neil. “Neil, really there’s no harm done. I’m sure MiMi won’t mind; it’s only one dish of spinach. And you’re scaring Amy.”

Maybe it was what she said or the reproach in her tone, but Neil calmed down, probably a little embarrassed by his show of temper. He shrugged, unable to find any more words, turned and stalked out of the kitchen.

Fortunately, the ever efficient Suzanne, who had followed the others into the kitchen, had immediately gone to find Mrs. Kramer when she saw what was happening. They came in as Neil left, and Mrs. Kramer immediately took charge. She started some of the catering staff cleaning up the mess. She talked to the head caterer about how to rearrange the buffet table to fill the empty spot where the soufflé was going to sit. She sent JoJo and Amy to take Tuffy back to the nursery where he was banished until the party and clean-up were over.

“Wait a minute, JoJo.” She took a wet towel and cleaned off the dog’s face and his paws. “Let’s not have him tracking spinach all over the house, okay?” And then at the last minute she took a dog biscuit out of her pocket and handed it to Amy. “And you can give him this before you leave him. With that and a tummy full of spinach soufflé, he’ll probably sleep all night.”

Amy nodded, her face brightening just a little.

It was amazing how quickly the kitchen was back to operating efficiently. The waiters formed a steady stream, carrying out platters and dishes piled with interesting foods to fill the buffet table. Dinner would soon be served.

Suzanne stood beside Claire. “What did I miss? Where is your friend, Jack? And Doug? And why did Neil look so pissed when he left?”

“You wouldn’t believe it.” Claire shook her head.

“Well, come on. Let’s get out of here before we have another disaster. You can make a believer of me while we have a drink.” The diminutive Suzanne took Claire’s arm and firmly guided her out of the kitchen.

Claire sipped her wine as she finished the story. “So I don’t know where Jack is. I hope he caught that man. And I don’t know why Neil lost it.

“And poor Amy, she’s so sensitive. She was only worried about Tuffy being lonely.” She looked at Suzanne, who shook her head, trying without success to suppress the smile pulling at her mouth and then they both burst into laughter.

“I wish I had been there. But when I saw the dog running right through that waiter’s legs, I knew we needed Mrs. Kramer. But see, I missed all the good stuff.” She had to sit down at one of the tables near them. She had laughed so hard her knees were weak.

Claire joined her. But her shaking knees were the result of finding her attacker in the kitchen, rather than from her bout of laughter.

“Well, we’re not going to get any answers until the ‘boys’ get back. I suggest we have another drink and join that line at the buffet.

“Oh, there’s Wiley’s wife. Have you met her?” Suzanne stood up and waved over a very regal looking large dark woman stunningly dressed in a two-piece pale wheat colored silk dress.

“Masie, I don’t think you’ve met Claire Gulliver, have you?”

Masie’s smile was warm. “No, I haven’t. But I’ve sure heard about your visit. I hope you’re having a good time. I know Suzanne is probably doing her best to make sure you see everything.”

“Well, she’s doing a fabulous job. If I miss anything it won’t be her fault.”

“We’re just thinking of getting something to eat, Masie. Do you want to join us? I think the ‘boys’ are out running around the yard. Who knows when they’ll get back?”

Masie rolled her eyes. “That Wiley, he loves playing cops and robbers. I just worry that some of the other guys won’t know it’s a game.” She moved with them to the buffet, obviously used to entertaining herself while her husband was working.

Claire followed her plate as it was passed from server to server, each one slipping a selection of delicacies on it attractively. But her mind wasn’t on the food accumulating on her plate. She was still reeling from the shock of coming face to face with her attacker in the kitchen. And she was wondering where Jack was and what was happening. She set her plate down on the table they selected and nodded her thanks to the waitress who brought silverware and napkins.

“Suzanne, I saw Amy and JoJo in line. I think I’ll just check and make sure they’re okay. I’ll be right back. Snag me another white wine if the waiter comes around, would you please?”

“Amy, JoJo, is everything all right?” Claire nodded cordially to their Great Auntie Maude, MiMi’s aunt, who was standing behind them, apparently intending to supervise their dinner.

Amy nodded sadly. “I told Gramimi and now Tuffy’s in real trouble.”

“Amy, Gramimi isn’t mad at him,” JoJo admonished. “She was just disappointed there wouldn’t be any soufflé for Grandpap.”

Amy nodded. “Tuffy ate it all.” She couldn’t help the look of revulsion on her face; they all knew she hated the stuff.

“Girls, look lively there. It’s your turn. Amy, don’t take more than you’ll eat. JoJo, make sure you take meats and vegetables, not just sweets,” Great Auntie Maude directed them.

“Okay, girls, have a nice dinner. I’m sitting just over there with Suzanne. I’ll see you before you go to bed, won’t I?”

They nodded, now absorbed in the business of filling their plates.

Claire smiled at Maude before heading back to her table.

She sipped the wine the waiter had delivered, wondering how many glasses she had already. Too many, she thought. But she didn’t feel a thing, so she took another sip.

“How’s Amy?”

“Fine, just feeling guilty Tuffy got in so much trouble.” Claire grinned. “And probably a little disappointed that her Great Auntie Maude is supervising their visit to the buffet table. MiMi is much more tolerant, letting them choose whatever they want and encouraging them to try new things even if they don’t eat them. I think Great Auntie Maude’s no-nonsense approach is a lot stricter.”

“There you are.” Doug came from behind her and slipped into a vacant chair at their table. “Dinnertime? Good!” He reached over and helped himself to a piece of succulent looking lobster from her plate. “I hope you don’t mind, but I’m starved. It didn’t look like you were eating it...” he eyed her plate, “or anything else for that matter.” This time he liberated a spear of white asparagus.

“What’s going on? Where have you been? Where’s Jack?” Suzanne and Claire were anxious, wanting answers.

“And Wiley?” Masie joined in.

Doug looked at her puzzled, so Claire introduced them. She was so agitated she could hardly sit still.

“Relax, relax. I’m going to tell you everything I know. Are you going to eat that?” When she shook her head he pulled her whole plate over in front of him. She automatically handed him her silverware and napkin. He looked over his shoulder and made eye contact with one of the waiters who quickly brought him a glass of wine.

Apparently he was very hungry as he devoured the food on the plate, trying to politely talk around his chewing.

“The man took off in one of the catering vans. Almost ran over one of the men parking the cars. Wiley had the police put out an APB for him and the van. So we’re expecting to hear very soon that someone picked him up. It’s kind of hard to hide out in a white catering van.” He paused to finish the medallion of Veal Oscar.

“Jack talked to the head caterer and got the name of the manager. He’s tracking him down now. Your man was hired on recommendation of one of their other employees, because they were short-handed. He was kitchen help – you know, finalizing the food preparation, making it look pretty on the serving trays and then cleaning up the empties coming back to the kitchen. This was his first job with them but, so far, the head caterer here was pleased with his work. They know the man who recommended him and will have some records in their employment files on him. I think we’re going to catch up with him pretty soon and then we’ll have some answers to our questions.”

He looked at the empty plate. “I believe I’ll just get a little more. Claire, can I get you something since I ate yours.”

She shook her head and drained the glass of wine. It was driving her crazy. Who was this weirdo, and what was he doing in the Lickmans’ kitchen? Finding him here was no coincidence!

She accepted another glass of wine without even thinking.

Doug came back with another plate of food, this one heaping. Suzanne and Masie excused themselves to visit the powder room. The band had switched from soft mood music to loud rock tunes and, judging by the noise from outside, everyone was on the dance floor.

Claire realized she was becoming pleasantly sloshed.

Suzanne appeared with a man in tow. “Claire, you remember Cliff Denning, don’t you? He wants to dance, but his wife didn’t come with him. I’m already promised, but I told him you’d probably oblige.”

It was the man she talked to about San Francisco restaurants at the Board Meeting luncheon the other day. Cliff looked embarrassed, but hopeful.

“Of course. I remember Cliff. We have a mutual fondness for San Francisco, don’t we?” She got to her feet. “I’d love to dance, but I don’t know how good I am.”

Suzanne gave her a grateful glance and disappeared.

“Excuse me, Doug, but this music can’t be wasted.” She excused herself as she followed Cliff to the dance floor. In spite of his stern demeanor and his gray hair, Cliff was a dancer. Claire realized she would have to be a lump of clay to not look good on the floor dancing with him.

“Did you used to teach at Arthur Murray’s?” She panted after a particularly complex move.

He just laughed as he swung her into another dance. Then she danced with Neil and then someone she hadn’t even met. She had time for a quick swallow of wine before spinning off with David Lickman, who as he had claimed the previous day, did have moves. Doug apparently satisfied his hunger and caught up with her on the dance floor. They danced several dances, one of which Amy and JoJo joined them for a loud rendition of
Y.M.C.A.
with all the required arm movements. Finally she collapsed at a table for a rest while Doug went off to get them some more wine.

Cliff found her again but she begged off, promising to dance with him after she had regained her breath. She sat on the edge of the terrace where the dance floor was clearly visible and watched the Lickmans dance. They were obviously having a great time. Marian and her husband were also surprisingly good dancers, moving as one entity. And Suzanne appeared to be having fun. She hadn’t sat down yet as far as Claire could tell. But Suzanne was quite a few years younger than she was, so naturally she had more energy, she consoled herself. Yet, using that line of reasoning she was hard pressed to explain why Great Auntie Maude, who must be years older, was dancing energetically with one of the older male houseguests. Neither the beat of the music nor the lateness of the night seemed to be slowing them down.

The band was very good. Their soft mood music through dinner was deceptive. As soon as dinner was over the four doo-wop girls and one male singer demonstrated their talents, each taking leads in a variety of songs from the past. The sound system had been cranked up to deafening so people had to dance or go inside, as there was no chance for conversation to be heard anywhere near the dance floor. And it appeared that most people elected to dance.

Jack slipped into the chair opposite her, looking a little less dapper than he had earlier. She saw his lips moving but she couldn’t hear a word. She shook her head, then motioned for him to follow as she moved inside to a table in the drawing room.

That’s when Doug found them with the drinks. He immediately gave his drink to Jack, who needed it more than he did, turned and went back to get a glass for himself.