Dying for Dinner (A Cooking Class Mystery) (25 page)

How she managed, I don't know, but Eve looked as fresh and perky as she had when the night started. She looped an arm through mine and together we walked to the refreshment table. She pointed at a pricey bottle of sparkling water and a waiting server opened it for her and poured it into a crystal glass. "Vic's favorite color is blue," she said. "His favorite holiday is Christmas. He lives alone, but he talks to his mama every day. Isn't that nice? He's never been married and those tabloid stories we've read linking him to all those Hollywood starlets . . ." She tossed her head and laughed. "Why, don't you just know it, gossipmongers have a way of getting carried away. Is that what you were hoping to find out, Annie?"

It wasn't, and Eve knew it. Which was why she grinned when Pasqual approached the refreshment table.

"Vic, honey . . ." I didn't imagine many people were so forward as to grab Victor Pasqual's hand, but when Eve did, he sure didn't object. She piloted him my way. "This is my friend Annie. The one I told you I wanted you to meet. Annie is just the cleverest thing. She's a detective, you know."

"A detective!" Pasqual was anything but subtle. His words boomed through the room. He wiggled his eyebrows. "Holy smokes, little lady, you're not going to cuff me and drag me off somewhere private, are you?"

I smiled and pretended he was funny while I extended my hand. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Pasqual."

As he'd done with Eve, he grabbed my hand and gave it a sloppy kiss. I resisted the urge to wipe my hand against my black skirt.

"So . . ." There was a crystal punch bowl nearby, filled with ice and brimming with bottles of a cheap, off-brand beer that was apparently Pasqual's favorite. When he looked that way, a waiter made a move to get him a bottle, but Victor was too quick. He grabbed a bottle, twisted off the cap, and took a glug. When the waiter looked disappointed at not being able to help, Pasqual handed the man a one-hundred-dollar bill. "Thanks for trying," he said, before he turned his attention back to me. "What do you detect?"

"Oh, this and that." I didn't do well at being coy, and I knew I wasn't there just to make small talk, but it was hard not to be at a loss for words. Did I say that Victor Pasqual was larger than life? I'm not sure even that hyperbole describes him. He was bigger than that. Louder. Merrier. He reminded me of a New Jersey Santa Claus. Well, except for the loud sport coat and the beer.

"One of the cases I'm working on now involves someone you might know," I said, finding my voice just as the dealer inside the card room called out that play would begin again in five minutes. I watched Pasqual carefully, gauging his reaction when I said, "Norman Applebaum."

"Who?" Pasqual finished the rest of his beer in one swallow and reached for another. "Never heard of the guy."

"I thought you might remember him, seeing that he won three hundred thousand dollars from you in a poker game."

"Three hundred thousand? Really?" Pasqual's eyes bulged, and he laughed. "Oh, heck. That's pocket change." He grabbed Eve's arm. "Come on, honey. Let's see if you can play the rest of the game as well as you played the start. You are going to sit right next to me again, aren't you?"

As he pulled her away, Eve looked over her shoulder at me and shrugged.

And me?

I watched and waited and wondered.

Could anyone pretend to be as clueless as Pasqual did when I mentioned Norman's name? And if he really didn't know Norman, did that mean he didn't hold a grudge against the man who'd won so much money from him?

Honestly, I didn't know. But I knew one thing for sure: If Victor Paqual was the killer we were looking for, he sure wasn't acting very guilty.

THE FIRST THING I DID WHEN EVE AND VICTOR LEFT
the hospitality room was look toward Norman, who was squirreled away behind a potted palm.

"Well?" I mouthed the word, glancing toward Pasqual and raising my eyebrows as if to ask,
Is he the guy?

Norman's only response was a shrug.

It was not what I was hoping for.

Discouraged, and wondering what on earth to do next, I dropped into a nearby armchair. Jim had been outside with Doc, and when the elevator across the lobby opened, he and the dog stepped out. He gave me a look. I answered with a shrug.

And we were right back where we started.

That's where we stayed, too, until the wee hours of the morning when--finally--the game was over.

As soon as I saw it was, I popped out of the chair where I'd spent part of the last hour dozing and the other part worrying. I was waiting outside the card room door when Eve walked out.

"Well?"

She ignored me. Which was just as well. I wasn't sure if I was asking if she'd won enough to get Doc's collar out of hock, or if she'd found out anything useful from Victor Pasqual.

Eve, though, didn't miss a beat. I saw her glance around just long enough to make sure Norman was within earshot, then give Victor that teasing little half smile of hers. The one that never fails to make the male of the species melt into a pile of mush.

"It's payback time, Norman," Victor said.

And with that, he was gone, headed over toward his private elevator.

It took me a moment to find my voice. "What . . . ?" From the elevator, I saw Victor wave at Eve and Eve wave back. "What was that all about?"

"Oh, that? That was me being brilliant!" She grinned and called Norman over. "So . . . ?"

Norman shook his head. "It isn't him," he said. "Now that I've heard him say that, I'm sure of it."

"But . . . ?" Eve was ready to walk over to where Jim waited with Doc, so I grabbed her arm to stop her. "How did you get him to say that?"

"That was easy. I told Vic I'd seen a movie once. And in it, the hero and heroine, they had this sort of code worked out. When one of them said, 'It's payback time, Norman,' the other one knew it was time for . . . well, you know, Annie . . . time for them to get intimate."

I couldn't catch my breath. "And you're going to . . . get intimate . . . with Victor Pasqual?"

Eve laughed and reached for another bottle of sparkling water. "Don't be silly, sugar. He thinks I'm coming up to his private apartment, but that's not going to happen, girlfriend. I'll call him tomorrow before we check out and tell him it broke my heart, but I was just too, too tuckered out to give him the kind of attention I know he needs. He'll understand."

"You are brilliant!" I pulled Eve into a brief hug before we walked over to the elevator that would take us back down to the main lobby of the hotel. Norman and Jim followed, and though we tried to outpace Peter, we weren't successful. The five of us waited together for the next elevator. "That was the perfect way to find out if Victor was the killer."

"Pish-tush!" The elevator arrived and we stepped inside. "I didn't need him to say it at all, I just thought it might help Norman here make up his mind." Eve was taller than Norman, and she ruffled a hand through his wig. "I knew Victor wasn't the killer hours ago. He couldn't have been. The night Greg was killed, Victor was on a cruise in the Mediterranean with his mama."

I was speechless. Truly. Thanks to Eve, we'd accomplished everything we'd set out to do. Sure, eliminating Victor Pasqual left us without a suspect in Greg's death, but it was still an important step forward. Now the only thing I had to worry about--

"There's my little sweet'ums." While I was busy thinking, Eve grabbed Doc out of Jim's arms and gave him a ferocious hug. "Good news, my little honey bunny," she cooed to the dog. "When we get home, we're going to get your collar out of that nasty pawnbroker's shop. And I think I won just enough . . ." By this time we were all staring at her, and Eve knew it. That's why she smiled at Doc. "I think I won enough to buy you a new outfit. And one for me, too."

Fifteen

SURE, IT WAS DISAPPOINTING TO HAVE TO ELIMINATE Victor Pasqual as a suspect. After all, without him, we really didn't have any suspects.

But honestly, by that time, I'm not sure any of us cared.

We liked Victor Pasqual, and besides, we were all so relieved that Eve hadn't lost her money, there was nothing that could have destroyed our good mood.

Well, almost nothing.

Down in the lobby, we decided to go out to breakfast before we began the long drive back to Arlington. We even included Peter (like I said, we were in good moods) on the sole condition that he stop calling us the Scooby Gang, and never breathe a word--to anyone--about the fact that for a brief moment in time, Victor Pasqual was a murder suspect.

But no sooner had we stepped out of the Pasqual Palace, onto the street, and out of the neon aura that surrounded the hotel than a curious thing happened.

I heard a car door slam and I was so wrapped up in getting all the details of the card game from Eve, I didn't pay any attention.

I should have.

Then I would have noticed the dark sedan parked nearby, and the man wearing a ski mask who jumped out of it, darted forward, and grabbed Norman.

"Back off."

The voice wasn't familiar to me, but I knew in an instant that Norman recognized it. His mouth dropped open and even the green neon glow from down the street couldn't add color to his cheeks.

Jim shot forward, but the man in the ski mask wasn't taking chances. There was a knife tucked into his belt and he grabbed it and waved it at us. Jim was closest to the flashing blade; he had to lean back to stay out of harm's way. My stomach went cold.

"I said, back off," the masked man grumbled, and he tightened his hold on Norman and yanked him toward the waiting car.

Honest to gosh, I don't know what possessed me. I knew it wasn't wise to try to fight off a man with a weapon. I knew it was smarter just to let the man take Norman, to commit the license plate of the dark sedan to memory, and to wait about half a nanosecond once they were gone and then call the police.

But I've got to say, one look at that masked man holding on to our friend . . .

One thought about the way that knife had come too close to Jim for comfort . . .

Well, truth be told, I snapped.

Eve was standing next to me so I barely needed to move at all to give Doc just a little pinch on the butt.

Predictably, the dog wasn't happy.

Doc doesn't bark. Not exactly. The sound that comes out of that tiny body of his is more of a yap. A loud, interminable, annoying-as-not-much-else-can-be yap.

Just for good measure, Doc threw in a snarl and lunge, too.

At the same time Eve struggled to keep the dog in her arms, Jim grabbed Norman and pulled him--hard--out of the masked man's grip.

And me? Taking my cue from Doc, I let out a scream that shook the windows of the buildings around us.

I kept right on screaming, too, until the front doors of the Pasqual Palace swung open and a couple of valets and a bellhop ran outside to see what was happening.

The masked man took one look at the commotion and ran back to his car.

And me? I was still screaming when he started up the engine and peeled rubber down the street.

"Ya pure mad dafty!"

I was pretty sure I'd just been insulted, but since Jim raced forward then hugged me tight when he said it, I didn't hold it against him. "You could have been hurt."