“Parma ham, Doctor, if you’re a protein person.”
All that food but nothing to drink. Then a hefty, middle-aged blond maid in a black, white-lace-trimmed uniform appeared carrying a flute-edged gilt tray.
“The Blue, ma’am.”
Jane Leavitt said, “Thank you, Sophie. Cream and sugar, Doctor?”
“Black’s fine, thanks.”
“A man of discretion and taste,” said Jane Leavitt, advertising first-rate bridgework. “With the finest coffee there’s no need for dilution. This is the highest grade of Blue Mountain. My husband, rest his soul, was in the coffee and tea business. I can still obtain anything.”
I smiled. The maid poured. Jane Leavitt raised her cup and I did the same.
We sipped. She purred. Put her cup down. “Try the grapes, Doctor. They’re from a sustainable farm in Chile and they’re fabulous.”
No sense bucking authority. I plucked and tasted. “Delicious.”
“Stan also wholesaled fruit. And nuts. All kinds of high-end comestibles. I sold the companies but I’ve maintained my connections and I employ them. As in our fundraiser. Our appetizer buffet is legendary.”
I smiled again.
She said, “You really are handsome.” Sharp, brown eyes lowered to my hands. “I don’t see a ring.”
“I’m in a relationship.”
“Alas.” Theatrical sigh. “No surprise there, the good ones are always taken. Please don’t find me cheeky, I have a terrible habit of inquiring for my daughter.”
She pointed to a large silver-framed photo displayed conspicuously behind the food. Marilyn Monroe look-alike in a strapless black dress.
Gorgeous woman but haunted eyes.
“That’s my Karen. It was taken professionally back when she thought she’d be an actress. Now she’s studying to be a therapist. Not like you, a Ph.D. She’s finishing her B.A. in communications and plans to work with drug rehab patients.”
A wave of anxiety washed across chalky skin. “Based on her own experiences. You understand.”
“I do.”
“Oh, well, I suppose it might work out,” said Jane Leavitt. “Provide her a certain level of experience that could help others. But I do wonder about her being exposed to the wrong people. What do you think, Doctor?”
“I don’t want to be evasive, Ms. Leavitt, but I don’t know enough about your daughter to pontificate.”
She laughed. “Pontificate. I like that. Spoken like a true cautious scientist—Warren’s like that. Dr. Giacomo. Can’t be pinned down. Very scientific, everything must be verified and reverified and what’s the word—replicated. I respect him for that and I see you’re cut from the same cloth—have some cheese. It’s from a Basque village where the goats are pampered.”
Again, I obeyed.
Jane Leavitt said, “So. You want to know about her. What exactly has she done?”
“I’m afraid I’m going to have to be evasive again.”
“Fair enough,” she said. “But obviously if the police send a psychologist, it’s got to be something nasty and bizarre. Good. I want the full weight of the law brought down upon her. I want her to reap the fruits of her rotten character.”
Angry words but a serene tone.
I said, “Something happened at the fundraiser.”
“The fundraiser is important to our cause—more than that, it’s vital. The moneys we raise go straight into research. We underwrite every bit of overhead, not a penny goes toward administration. Last January we welcomed a small but promising crop of potential donors. The fundraiser was our opportunity to put on our best face and she nearly ruined it and for that I can never forgive her.”
“What did she do?”
“She allowed some of her low-life friends to crash and they…oh, why beat around the bush, they had an orgy.”
“Really.”
“Well,” she said, “perhaps that’s an exaggeration, but not much of one.”
She took a deep breath, placed a hand on her chest. “Everything was going along swimmingly. I run a tight ship, brief speeches, no dead time, a wonderful band versed in the American Song Book. Ample drink as well but everyone tipples in moderation. We’re a mature group, Doctor. That’s our hallmark. Maturity. I shouldn’t have listened to her in the first place.”
“About what?”
“About allowing her to get involved. She was pushy, that alone should’ve been the tip-off, I don’t do pushy. But she caught me at a bad time. Karen was just out—no matter, she convinced me. The first thing she screwed up was the venue. In the past, we’ve used members’ homes, so many of our members have lovely homes. She convinced me to try something new. That hideous pseudo-castle, she knew the owners because they’d bought art from her and that tight-sphinctered husband of hers so we could get it at deep discount. When she told me the figure, I said, why not, be adventurous. Because with members’ homes we have to take out serious insurance.”
“How did Candace come to the group?”
“She emailed me, said breast cancer research was their passion, a first wife of his had died of it. So when I met him at the fundraiser I offered my sympathy and empathy but he gave me a blank look. As if he had no idea what I was talking about. Then, as if he was trying to cover for himself, he said oh, yes, that was terrible, Gertrude would be so pleased. That should’ve tipped me off. Gertrude? When’s the last time you heard of a woman under eighty named Gertrude? But as I said, I was distracted. Plus I give people the benefit.”
Her jaws clenched. “Until they prove otherwise. After that?” She rubbed her palms together then let each hand fly. “Good riddance to bad rubbish.”
I said, “The party crashers—”
“Two of them. A lounge lizard and a floozy with blue hair and a Pillsbury Doughboy face. Clearly neither of them was one of us. She let them in, the layout of that hideous dump, it was impossible to monitor. All the cars jamming up on Benedict—have you seen the place?”
“I have.”
“Vulgar. The interior was gloomy and the outside lighting skimpy. Lesson learned, next year we’ll be using one of our members’ manses in the Palisades designed by Wallace Neff. Wesley and Denise have their own personal vineyard and we’ll be tasting their private reserves—try the bleu, Doctor. It really is yum.”
She watched with satisfaction as I obliged. After swallowing the dry morsel, I said, “This orgy—”