The Groaning Board

gently down beside him. “That’s better. Hate craning my neck.” He
put his arm around her, his hand settled on her waist. “Tell me about the
party. Start with when you got there.”
    Her head lowered itself to his
shoulder. “Is this a deposition?”
    “No, I’m curious.”
    “Okay. Came with Laura Lee. Do you
know her?“
    “Yes.”
    “Wait.” She pulled herself upright.
“I’m thinking I shouldn’t have told you Silvestri was there. If he was in
disguise, maybe he is undercover. I don’t want him to get hurt, Bill. Bill?”
    “Sounds as if you still care.”
    “Of course I care. I’ll always care.
He and I may not be together, but he’s a good guy. I want you to promise me...
Bill, please.”
    It was as if he was weighing and
measuring, studying her minutely. He said, “I still have friends downtown. I
won c get in his way. Okay?”
    “Okay.” He hadn’t said, “Trust me.”
That was a plus.
    “Go on with your story.”
    “Hem attacked us when we got off the
elevator.
    “Attacked?”
    “You know, touchy-kissy-feely. He got
Laura Lee on the mouth, but I ducked him. Minnie looked ready to kill and I d
already had one run-in with her. I don’t need another.
    “What kind of run-in?”
    She sat up, slipped her jacket off
her shoulders. Her dress was a sleeveless square-necked jumper. The bruise was
now a dull purple with yellowing edges.
    He ran his hand gently along the
bruise. “Min’s a loose cannon. I’m afraid I’m going to have to defend her in
court one day.” He set the jacket back over her shoulders. Go on.
    “I cozied up to a smarmy fireplug in
a bad toop by the name of Sheldon. I dumped him as soon as I could—
    Veeder hugged her to him, laughing.
“That could only be Sheldon Marshack. He’s a media mogul, owns a slew of cable
companies from here to Hawaii. He’s one of the most powerful men in the
country. And one of the richest.”
    “Pooh. That just makes him a rich and
powerful fireplug with a bad toop.” A yawn took over. “Don’t you think you
should take me home?”
    “Finish the story and we’ll talk
about it.”
    Her feet were on the coffee table
next to his, thigh against thigh. She rested her head on his shoulder; his
shirt, a starchy essence, was crisp against her cheek.
    “Overheard A.T. talking to Ellen and
her grungy friend Todd something or other.”
    “Todd Cameron. His father’s a
surrogate court judge. He’s a piece of work. Son, not father.”
    “Ellen showed me around the
greenhouse. Do you know Minnie does exotic cooking?”
    “Min is the worst cook in the world.
She makes elaborate Chinese banquets and the food is inedible.”
    “But everyone comes and makes mushy
on the plate because of Hem.”
    “Right.”
    “Did you ever see All About Eve?”
    “Yes.”
    “Ellen is Eve Harrington, I think.
She let me know that Micklynn had some problem with Sheila Gelber.”
    His hand roamed her waist, his lips
were in her hair. “Sheila Gelber. I know that name.”
    She was having trouble concentrating
again. “Micklynn... Jesus, Bill...” She held his hand still for a moment.
“Micklynn has a condition called celiac disease. An allergy to gluten. Sheila
did also. Sheila was murdered, poisoned by corn muffins that Micklynn made.
Sheila and Silvestri were lovers before I knew him.”
    “Silvestri again?”
    “Ellen said Sheila and Micklynn were
doing a book together and something went wrong.”
    “Ah, now I know. It was a business.
Micklynn talked to me about putting together a business, mail order for
specific diets. I told her she couldn’t do it with this Sheila Gelber.“
    “Why not?”
    “Because her partnership agreement
with A. T. Barron precludes any other business related to food. It’s ironclad.
A.T. would have had to get half interest.”
    “Even though it wasn’t her idea and
she didn’t work on it? That’s not right, Bill.”
    “That’s the agreement.”
    “Isn’t there any way a contract like
that can be broken?“
    “Only one, Leslie. One of the
partners would have to die.”

Chapter Thirty-Seven

     
     
     
    “I’ll let
your doorman put me in a cab.” She bent over, groping for her shoes; the socks lay on the
floor. “Thanks for the socks.”
    “Nice.”
    What was he talking about? She looked
up at him. He was looking at her cleavage. She straightened, stuck her feet
into her shoes. “No, not nice. Not me. Wonderbra. I kept meaning to take it
off.”
    “I could help you.” He was just
sitting