Page 57 of Fade Out
“Yes, but you can’t actually discuss it with the murderer.” I’m sure that was somewhere in Emily Post.
I looked back at him. He had to be near seventy. I doubted he actually killed anyone himself. I wondered who he paid to do it.
“You said he had Rita’s father killed. If she’s taking revenge on the Buckmans for their part, I can’t imagine why she wouldn’t go after him. Particularly if he’s the one who’s responsible.”
“Richard doesn’t have any children,” Gloria said. “Or anyone he cares about, for that matter.”
“What about secrets?”
“Aside from the fact that he’s a con artist and a murderer, none that I know of.”
“Everything else does pale in comparison,” I admitted.
Deanna Hansen walked in with a tall, good-looking guy not far from her own age. Apparently, she’d dumped the older restaurateur she’d been seeing up until last year. Helena appeared from nowhere and attached herself to the couple. I wondered if people knew who Deanna was and where her money came from. But then I laughed at myself. It didn’t matter to this crowd. They despised the mugger, the streetwalker, the welfare cheat, but they revered anyone who knew how to steal big. It never mattered to them where you got your money from or how you got it, as long as you had a lot of it. Helena knew exactly how Deanna made whatever donation she’d be giving. And she didn’t care.
“They’re here,” Gloria said, abruptly.
“Who’s here?” I asked.
“My friends.” Her voice was layered with gloom and doom. She pulled me in the opposite direction.
“What are you doing?” I asked Gloria.
“I told you. Not until they write their check.”
“Gloria!” a woman called out and hurried over. With her, came a cloud of dusty, sweet perfume. I nearly gagged.
As a way of deflecting her, Gloria said, “Nick, do you know Dori Pilson? Sugar’s former sister in-law?”
“Actually, I don’t.”
“Nick is a friend of Sugar’s,” she said, though it hardly sounded like a recommendation. Dori Pilson held out her hand so I shook it.
“Lovely party, and it’s for a good cause. Is Sugar here?”
“No,” I said. “She’s in Michigan somewhere.”
“Charlevoix. That house was in our family for nearly a century.”
What was I supposed to do with that? Offer my condolences? It did imply the story Gloria had told me was true. I smiled and said, “This seems like the event of the year. I’m surprised Sugar is missing it.”
“Oh it’s hardly that,” Dori said. “I think the masquerade ball for the Art Institute is a much more exciting event. What do you think, Gloria?”
“I think it’s time to find our table. You know at one of these things, years ago, one of the guests started moving the place cards around creating some truly horrific combinations.”
“But that would be such a fun thing to put into one of your columns,” I pointed out.
“All right, it was me who changed the cards. Don’t tell.”
A waiter came by and we all sampled a salmon concoction on Melba toast. He told us what it was called, but I immediately forgot. When he wandered off, I said to Gloria “Do you even know where our table is?”
“That way,” she said, waving an arm at all the tables. We started to move, which I hoped meant she’d be getting more specific. She leaned in to me and said, “People seem put out by my being with you.”
I hadn’t seen any indication of that, but still said, “I can’t imagine why.”
“I’m sure they think I’m screwing you. Such a double standard. A man can date any young thing he wants, but when a woman does it it’s somehow disgusting.”
“No offense, but you’re not going to be my girlfriend.”
