pageboy had wilted during the past few hours. “I don’t think
so,” she answered cautiously. “In fact, I recall him asking
several questions about Barry today. As far as I know, Russell
probably never met Barry until he drove us up to the lodge
last January. Why do you ask?” Her blue eyes hardened like
sapphires.
Judith shrugged. “It’s not important.” The coffee was almost ready and she didn’t want to waste time bringing
Russell his cup. “You knew Barry, of course.”
“Oh, yes,” Nadia replied, her expression softening. “Such
a well-mannered young man. I’d worked with him before
when he’d catered some of the other company events. He
was very good at it, even if he tended to…become distracted.”
She lowered her eyes.
Judith and Nadia both returned to the lobby where Russell
Craven was now in a half-sitting position on the sofa.
He seemed reasonably alert, and grateful for the coffee. Judith
offered to pour a cup for the others, but only Andrea and
Ward accepted.
“I’ll get it,” Andrea volunteered, taking Russell’s hand and
placing it on the ice bag she’d been holding to his head.
“Easy does it,” she said in a soothing voice.
Frank Killegrew had resumed his place of dominance in
front of the fireplace. His shrewd gaze traveled from Renie
to Judith. “We’re going to get back down to business now,”
he said, hands clasped behind his back. “It’s been a terrific
session this evening, right up until the…” He glanced at
Russell, then at Max. “…the controversy. So this train has
to make up for lost time. It’s just about nine o’clock, and we
can keep the old locomotive running until say, ten-thirty. If
you’ll excuse us, Ms. Jones, Ms.…” His voice trailed off.
“Flynn,” Judith said, barely above a whisper.
“We’re gone.” Renie waved one hand, then trotted out of
the lobby.
Judith followed. In the dining room, they met Andrea,
who was carrying two cups of coffee. “I checked Russell’s
eyes,” she said. “They seem normal. Pay no attention to his
mention of Barry. Russell didn’t know him.”
“So I’ve heard,” Judith replied, ignoring Renie’s puzzled
look.
Andrea’s pretty face flushed slightly, an attractive combination with her silver hair. “I understand why he said what
he did. Russell is terribly sensitive. I’m sure the news of
Barry’s death upset him. You know how creative types tend
to overreact.” She bustled off to the lobby.
“I’m creative,” Renie said in an ingenuous voice. “Do I
overreact?”
“It depends,” Judith said, continuing on into the kitchen.
“I don’t think I’ve ever described you as sensitive.”