Conundrum (7 page)

Adam was right behind her, carrying two bottles of
wine.”It’s
so nice of you to do this, Norman. This house is really something! Oh hi, Iris. Where’s Will?”

“Not here yet.”
Iris’ reply was drowned out in the babble of greetings. G.B. hurried up to double-kiss Alyssa, using actual touch this time. He and Adam exchanged awkward embraces.

Next to arrive was C.C., even more tank-like than before, sheathed in a long, gray
muu-muu
. Her hooded eyes swept the room. She immediately zeroed in on Iris and wagged her finger.

“Uh, oh.
Someone didn’t get the dress memo. Or is this what passes for black-tie in Cambridge?” she said, surprising Iris with a hug.

“Getting out of our Birkenstocks is black-tie in Cambridge, C.C.”

“And where did you find this darling dress? It’s so… you.”

“It’s from Barney’s.”
By way of Filene’s Basement
.
“And yours?”

“Oh, I designed this and had it sewn up the last time I was in Hoi
An
for the magazine. I swear I spend half my life on Sing Air.”

“And they are lucky to have you, C.C. Most of us couldn’t fit in all that travel with our busy personal lives,” trilled Alyssa, moving in to join them.

Iris stole a look at Alyssa. Her cheekbones looked lifted, as if by a push-up bra.

“And how are those adorable rug-rats of yours, Alyssa? Who says that the Mommy-track precludes all the interesting jobs?” C.C. shot back.

Luc had overheard this last bit of sniping and pivoted around to offer them some miniature crab cakes. He shot Iris a quick wink.

“Adam. You have to try these!” Alyssa called out across the room.

As Luc moved away, C.C. said with a malicious smile, “Looks like our Iris may be having the waiter for dessert.”

“Luc’s not a waiter. He owns a restaurant and is catering this dinner as a favor to Ellie and me.”

“Well, good for you, Iris,” Alyssa said ambiguously as she stuffed a
galette
delicately into her
fuschia
mouth.

“I’m
loving
what I’m seeing so far of this house,” C.C. said sotto-voce into Iris’ ear. “Let’s talk after dinner about logistics for a photo-shoot, okay?”

It was going to be a long evening. As Norman led a tour through the house, the group scrutinized the design details and made comments like sharks at a carcass. It took less than ten minutes for someone to insinuate that Iris had stolen the house’s design concept from one of their school projects.

“This reminds me of my design for the
Ungers
studio. Remember that one, Adam?” Alyssa always played the heroine in her own movie, but Adam was too busy mentally tallying up the house’s probable construction costs to respond. At that moment, he was fi
lling his phone’s camera memory—furtively Iris noted—
with photos of Norman’s furniture.

“Alyssa, didn’t you design a curtain-wall office tower for
Ungers
’ studio?”
Jerry dead-panned.

“Well, it had the
same
parti
of stacked elements—
sort of cubist, with a lot of transparency.” She was clearly oblivious to his frontal assault.

Iris noticed Jerry whisper something into G.B.’s ear, turning away first in case there were lip readers watching him.

“Mack,” Ellie called over. “You have to see the master bath. I want Iris to use these tiles in our bathroom.”

“Uh oh, are we doing another renovation?” Mack protested as Ellie dragged him away.

Norman sidled over to C.C. and made his annoying little cough to get her attention.

“You know, I let Iris put her name on the design of this house, but I gave her some pretty extensive ideas. I’d love to give you a tour. Remind me, what magazine are you working for these days?”

C.C. graced Norman with a glacial smile and flipped down her cherry-red glasses from their nest atop her helmet of hair. “Oh, Norman, you’ve left our provincial field of architecture so-o-o far behind. I’m sure that you don’t have time to read shelter magazines.”

“Well, C.C., someone has to be the patron and keep these innovative architects in business, don’t you think?” he intoned, a smile plastered to his face.

G.B. tapped his cheek with a finger as he stared at the windows. Turning around, he spurted out “I’m fascinated with the semiotics of this house, Iris. I will bet that not many people will notice that the pattern of the fenestration follows the proportions of the Fibonacci series. Please explain to me what you are saying with that gesture?”

The corners of her mouth flickered up in a suppressed smile. Norman hadn’t noticed that reference. “Let’s discuss my concepts over dinner, G.B. I’m seeing Norman signal for us to sit down now.”

Iris and Ellie had carefully worked out a seating plan and rehearsed what questions to try to work into the conversations. Ellie was positioned down at Norman’s end of the table with Alyssa, G.B. and Adam. Iris was at the other end flanked by C.C. and Jerry with Mack and Will’s empty seat beyond.

Before they could begin the meal, Norman stood up to give a toast. He started off with “this was always a very special class,” and went on to enumerate every funny or embarrassing memory he could dredge up. People resignedly put their glasses back down on the table. Iris’ mind wandered off as he segued into a narrative of the classmates’ various accomplishments, oh-so-modestly leaving out his own.

Iris studied Adam’s face in profile. Unlike his wife, he hadn’t aged well. There was something slack about his features. It looked as if Alyssa had sucked out all of his life-force.

Louise peeked in twice from the kitchen to see if she could serve the salad. Norman, however, was jammed on transmit.

Finally, in a rare display of practicality, G.B. rose, glass in hand, and cut off Norman in mid-gauzy-sentiment. “Here’s to Norman who has generously opened up his lovely new home to us all. Bravo!”

Everyone rose immediately, raising their glasses and crying out “Bravo!” to keep Norman from starting up again in response. They all sat down and Louise swept in with the salads before anything could stop her.

Iris overheard fragments of conversations throughout the many courses. C.C. was energetically telling Jerry about a photo shoot in Chicago gone horribly awry, her
uni
-bosom shelved on the table. His glazed smile said
you really are repulsive,
while his lips
said “how amusing for you.”

G.B. held court with Norman and Adam, trying to convince them to get more involved with their alma mater, perhaps by participating on design juries now that they were ‘respected professionals.’ Norman and Adam sported the folded-armed, steely expression of men-who-will-not-be-corralled.

Alyssa had commandeered the patient Ellie, who was, in turn, trying to steer the talk back to her own agenda. At one point, Alyssa’s high-pitched voice broke through a momentary lull in the conversation, “and we had to wait around for two days after the graduation party for that investigation to end. We almost missed our plane to Florence.” In the candlelight, even her eyes seemed to pout.

Ellie caught Iris’ eyes and slugged back the remaining wine in her glass. Immediately animated conversations broke out on any subject but the long-ago graduation party or Carey’s death.

Iris sighed. She hadn’t been able to get C.C. or Jerry to go near those topics. She figured she might as well chat with Mack about how to keep deadly nightshade from taking over her garden. That at least was useful information. She and Ellie could regroup after dinner and decide if they would go to any more of the scheduled events.

But just as Louise brought in the apricot tart with lavender ice cream, the harsh sound of the front bell froze
a half
-dozen witty exchanges mid-repartee.

Adam broke the silence. “It must be Will! He loves to make a dramatic entrance.”

Eight sets of eyes followed Norman as he scurried to the adjacent entry hall. Alyssa jumped up and followed him as far as the framed opening, with Adam tagging behind. Everyone else craned their necks to get a better view. Norman opened the door to two men in dark clothes. Eight sets of ears tuned in.

“Hello. I’m Detective Paul Malone of the Cambridge Major Crimes Division and this is Detective Connors.” A tall, scarecrow of a man in an ill-fitting sports jacket tipped his head at a shorter man and they both indicated the gold badges on their belts. “Sorry to interrupt your party. Are you Norman Meeker, the owner of this residence?”

The color in Norman’s face leached away and he looked unsure whether he should admit to his name.

“Is Iris Reid one of your guests, Mr. Meeker?”

Norman found his voice. “Uh…” Iris approached the door.

“I’m Iris Reid. What’s this about, Detective?”

“Do you know a William Reynolds, Ms. Reid?”

“What’s wrong? Did something happen to him? He called me from California last week and wanted to meet today. But he never showed up.”

At this point, Alyssa appeared at the door. “What’s happened to Will? We’re having a reunion and he’s supposed to be here.”

“Yeah, where’s Will? Has there been an accident?” Adam spoke from above his wife’s head.

Next
came
G.B. “I’m Professor Broussard, Officers. Perhaps you could fill us all in on what has happened.”

Malone looked like a no-bullshit type of guy. He’d probably been called out from Cambridge after his shift had ended to try to get information from some people at a fancy dinner party in Lincoln. He did not look happy. He ran his hand though his thinning hair and said “All of
you,
please go back to the dining room. We intend to speak with everyone. Not you, Ms. Reid. You stay with me. Connors, get statements from everyone. Find out if anyone saw Mr. Reynolds after he landed at Logan.”

As Connors herded his charges back to the dining table, Malone steered Iris into the living room ar
ea, trying to find some privacy—
not an easy task in an open plan house.

“I’m sorry to have to tell you this, Ms. Reid, but we discovered Mr.
Reynold’s
body an hour ago. We called his wife in California, and she said that he took the red-eye last night, had plans to meet with you, and then come out here for this dinner.”

Alyssa’s wail
rang through the space, “Oh, no—
Will is DEAD! How could he be DEAD? Why would anyone want to kill him?”

Iris and the detective looked over at the faces, white in the glow of the candles. They could hear Connors trying to establish control as Adam moved in to contend with his force field of a wife.

“Wait—
you said you found his body?” Iris asked. “Was he mugged?”

Without answering her question, Malone said, “We would appreciate you coming down with us to the station to help us with our investigation.” He enunciated each word as if speaking in code. “I’m sorry to break things up here.”

“Am I under arrest?” Iris felt the need for a de-coder ring.

“No, no, nothing
like
that. We’d like for you to identify the body. His wife won’t be here until tomorrow. I hope it’s not too much of an inconvenience,” he added as if this was the last thing he cared about.

Iris looked over to see Luc standing at the door to the kitchen. He was asking her a question with his eyes.

She looked back at him bleakly. Identify the body? Why her? But all she wanted, at that point, was to get out of there. If that meant going with this detective, she’d go.

Malone muttered under his breath “of course, a chef.” Louder he said “Anyone else in there?
Maybe a butler or a chauffeur?”

Louise peeked from behind Luc.
“Just me.”

“Go sit in there with the others. Connors, two more,” he yelled over.

As Iris was collecting her purse from the entry closet, Ellie and Mack came up behind her. “We’re coming with you, Iris. Detective Malone, you can take our statements down at the station.”

Chapter 11

I
ris braced herself and dialed the number for her brother,
Stirling
. Her sister-in-law,
Leesa
, answered with, “He’s in the middle of
‘Law and Order,’
Iris. Is this important?”

“Please tell him that I need him for a real-life episode. I’m down here at the Cambridge Police Station being asked questions about a dead friend.”

Stirling’s
voice came on, “Good God, Iris. What have you gotten yourself into now?” She could visualize the constipated look on his face.

“I’ve done nothing wrong,
Stirling
. The police showed up at my Harvard Reunion and said they’d found Will Reynolds’ body this afternoon. Will had called me last week and wanted to meet today, so the police seem to think that I know something about his death. But I haven’t seen him in 20 years.”