Rarities Unlimited 03 - Die in Plain Sight

bad,” Savoy said. The whole topic of bloodlines bored him almost as much as his mother’s pathetic, drunken insistence on good breeding had. “Your father was a close friend of Mother’s father—and she married you, didn’t she? Stayed married, too.”
    Ward made a sound of satisfaction. “She sure as hell did, common blood and all.” But it had taken some real persuasion on his part.
    In his younger days, he’d been good at charming the upper classes. Good enough to win a place by marriage in the Savoy family. Good enough so that his children would inherit the Forrest name and the Savoy fortune, minus the fifteen percent his ever damned mother-in-law had given to her sister’s kids. Of course, knowing where all the family bodies were buried hadn’t hurt him, either.
    The maître d’ of the Hunt Club rushed forward to greet Ward and Savoy. “This way, sir. Your private room is waiting. Mr. Goodman, Ms. White, and the Birch-Andersons have already arrived.”
    Ward nodded.
    As his father had taught him, Savoy put a folded fifty-dollar bill in the maître d’s palm and shook hands with him. “Thank you, Charles. I trust the fish came through on time?”
    “Yes, sir,” Charles said. “Fresh Dover sole, gulf prawns, and Maine lobster. A Mr. Lapstrake called and asked if there would be room for a Ms. Marsh, a friend of Ms. Donovan, to attend. I assured him there would be, but then he called again to say it would be just himself and Ms. Donovan, that Ms. Marsh had an engagement she couldn’t ignore.”
    Savoy wondered if Ms. Marsh’s first name was January, but before he could ask, Ward was talking to the maître d’.
    “How’s your son?” Ward asked. “Heard he’d been injured playing football.”
    “Much better, sir, thank you.” The maître d’ smiled widely. “You should have seen the other guy.”
    Ward gave a crack of laughter. “You tell that boy of yours to keep kicking ass. It’s the only thing real men understand.”
    “Yes, sir!”
    Savoy watched the maître d’ and his father walk away, exchanging football lore. The old man should have been a politician. Savoy was the one tipping the maître d’, yet a single question from his father about the man’s son had him smiling and preening and actually liking Ward Forrest. Maybe you had to be raised with the common touch to have it. If not for hunting and target shooting, he wouldn’t have anything to share with his father but an accident of birth.
    With a stifled sigh, Savoy walked toward the private dinner room. Times like this he really missed his mother; Gem had understood him in ways Ward never would. Not for the first time, Savoy wondered why his parents had stayed married as long as they had. It must have been that old thing about opposites attracting. God knew that the two had been about as opposite as could be.
    And here Savoy was, by all accounts a gentle and charming scion of wealth, waiting for his second wife to meet someone else and divorce him. They had seemed so compatible ten years ago. Now they lived separately and, for the most part, peacefully, appearing together only when it was necessary to present a united front for special birthdays, corporate events, and the like. This coming Saturday, for example, when the family would strut their unity for Angelique White.
    Speaking of the New Horizons devil, there she was, her lean model’s body clad in a little black number that Coco Chanel and Gem Savoy Forrest would have loved.
    “Angelique,” Savoy said, smiling and holding out his hands while Ward went on to greet the other three people. “How lovely that you could come. My wife will be sorry she missed you, but the Volunteer Guild at the hospital only meets once a month.”
    “Believe me, I understand,” Angelique said as she took Savoy’s hands. “Charity always comes first.”
    Savoy felt the faint brush of her cheek almost touching his. Angelique knew how to air kiss with the best of them. Close to Bliss in age but with a lot less mileage—or a better plastic surgeon—Angelique was as shrewd as she was devout. It was an unsettling combination in a businesswoman. Savoy wasn’t used to working with a chief operating officer whowouldn’t pick up a phone on Sunday unless it was to report directly to God Almighty.
    “Congratulations on finally settling that CCSD problem,” Angelique said. “And a very generous settlement it was. Well done, Savoy.”
    He smiled and hoped she didn’t mention it in front