Page 55 of Fade Out
Helena burst out laughing. To Gloria she said, “He’s a kidder, isn’t he? No really, who are you?”
“I’m a private investigator.”
“Like Magnum P.I.!”
“My Ferrari is outside.”
That made her titter. We reached the bar, which was a tall table draped in the same gold fabric that covered the dining tables. There was only top shelf liquor and what looked like quality wine.
“Can you make a martini?” Adelaide asked the very attractive bartender.
“Um, sure.”
“Vodka. Twist.”
As he reached for a rocks glass, I could tell he didn’t know what he was doing. “You don’t have any up glasses, do you?” I asked.
“No. I mean, I don’t think so.”
“Oh my God!” Helena blurted. “We should get some then.”
“That’s fine. I’ll have it on the rocks,” Adelaide said. “Extra dry, please.”
The guy filled a glass with ice. Then he reached for the Vermouth.
“Don’t touch the Vermouth,” I said. I was right. He didn’t have much experience. A seasoned bartender knew that an extra dry vodka martini was simply vodka on the rocks. “I’ll have a vodka and soda water when you’re finished.”
“Glenfiddich and water,” Gloria said.
Once we got our drinks, Gloria set hers down and began to dig around in her clutch. She pulled out a pack of Virginia Slims. I was on the verge of asking to bum one, when she said, “I’m curious, did you ever figure out what Sugar’s secret is?”
She’d mentioned something about that to me around Christmas—and not in a nice way.
“No. And I don’t care. Secrets have a way of ruining friendships. And I like Sugar.”
Then she leaned over and told me the secret anyway. “She was never really a Pilson.”
“What does that mean?” Okay, I couldn’t help myself.
“That side of the Pilson family, apparently the grandmother, had a dalliance so none of them are truly Pilsons.”
“That doesn’t seem like such a big secret.”
“The money. They’re not entitled to it. Not a penny. My guess is Sugar’s ex got drunk one night and told her.”
Adelaide turned around holding her drink in two hands. She took a sip. “This is wonderful.”
“How did you hear this story about Sugar?”
“Rita. She does occasionally get the goods.”
“Why haven’t you printed it?”
“Sugar’s too valuable. People love it every time I write something bitchy about her.”
Something from the past came to the forefront. “And she has something on you, doesn’t she?”
“And so do you. But I doubt either of you will ever use it, you’re both too nice.” The way she said the word ‘nice’ made it clear she wasn’t paying us a compliment.
