Page 54 of Fade Out
“A little attention won’t hurt.”
“You want everyone to know you’re there with a suspected murderer, don’t you?” Adelaide asked, then said to me, “She has an innate sense of the dramatic.”
Gloria just smiled. It seemed ridiculous that my trouble should somehow raise Gloria’s social status, but apparently it did. Gloria turned to Cyril and said, “The red, I think. Now, shoes…” Looking down at the white athletic socks I was wearing, she added, “And socks, of course.”
I suppose I should be glad I got to keep my underwear.
Cyril didn’t budge. To Adelaide he said, “So there will be a write-up right before the holidays and another the week of New Year’s?”
“Yes, of course,” Adelaide said. “You’ll get your money’s worth, ten times over. And he’s not keeping the tux, he’ll bring everything back on Monday.”
Not that anyone had cleared that with me
“Cleaned?”
“Of course,” Adelaide promised for me.
“If it has to go to the cleaner, it’s not coming back on Monday,” I said. That should have been obvious to everyone.
“All right, just bring it back then,” Cyril said. “Just don’t get anything on it.”
“I’ll try not to sweat.”
“Do,” Cyril replied.
Chapter Thirteen
The Gold Coastballroom at the Drake was about the size of a football field spread beneath a dozen king-sized chandeliers. Everything in the room was gold: the columns, the folding chairs the tablecloths, the drapes, the curtain behind the raised stage, even the floral arrangements had been sprayed with gilt. Right as we entered the room there was a table where a woman sat with a legal-sized clipboard and a walkie-talkie.
“Gloria Silver.”
“Yes, I know,” the woman said, and nearly giggled. Her cheeks turned red, as she marked her clipboard.
“Adelaide Summers.”
“Oh my,” the woman made another mark on her clipboard then looked up at me. Obviously, she read theDaily Herald. “And you are, sir?”
“He’s with me,” Gloria said. And that settled that.
Abruptly, a woman rushed over. She had a thick head of white hair and wore an ice-blue satin dress with an enormous skirt. “Gloria!” she nearly shouted. “You’re so early!”
“I know! I’m so sorry, but I’ve got another event later on.”
“Oh, but you have to stay through dessert. Crème brûlée. We had to hire three extra cooks just to burn the tops.”
“I just might. I adore crème brûlée,” Gloria said.
“Is the bar open?” Adelaide asked.
“Let’s walk over and open it!” As we began to move, she turned to me and said, “We haven’t met, I’m Helena Darwin. And you are?”
“Helena this is Nick Nowak, alleged murderer as we say in the press,” Gloria introduced me.
“Hello,” I said. What else was I going to say?
“Gloria, you are such a kidder.” To me she added, “She loves it when people think she’s just the slightest bit dangerous.”
“I’d say she’s very dangerous.”
