“Any idea what made her nosedive like that?”
“I guess her uncle cut her out of his will and she didn’t get a stitch, or should I say sip out of that old distillery. She was fuming. You could practically see the steam coming from her ears. It wasn’t pretty. Anyway, that was one of the things I wanted to talk to Detective Wexler about. He and his partner are supposed to go through Holly’s office before I can take it on. I’m hoping I’ll have control over it as soon as the new year.”
Someone gasps near the coffee machine, and we turn to see a cup overturned as piping hot java spills onto the carpet.
Kaila sighs. “I’d better take care of this. Excuse me, Bowie.”
I thread through the bodies until I’m almost to the front where Shep is still trying to fight back the masses when Carol Bransford catches my eye. She’s perusing a book by the pedestal where Shep was standing a few minutes ago.
I speed her way and peer over her shoulder. She seems to be looking at a register of some sort. Dozens and dozens of signatures and what appear to be short one or two line messages are scrawled across the pages.
“What’s this?” I ask as I circle around to where she can see me. “Are people signing in for the reading?”
Carol’s eyes flash up at me before she takes a breath.
“Bowie, you scared me.” She gives a nervous titter of a laugh. “No, it’s not for the signing. I just—I sort of stumbled upon it. I guess it’s for Holly. The library has left a condolence journal out for whoever wanted to leave a few kind words. I was just going through it.” She blinks back tears.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” I say. “I know you mentioned the two of you went way back.”
She gives a hard sniff. “You know, at one point, Holly was like a sister to me. She was one of those people who everyone thought had it together. Everyone thought she was so very, very lucky. It’s still hard for me to understand how things ended the way they did between us. It was all so sudden and so very, very ugly.”
“Maybe you should write a few things down for her,” I suggest. “I mean, it might help to get things off your chest and tell her how much you miss the way things were in the beginning.”
Her lips press tight as a seam of tears fills her lash line.
“You know, Bowie, I think I’m actually going to do that.” She riffles through her purse for a pen and a business card floats to the ground.
I quickly snap it up for her and turn it around. It’s at least twice the thickness of a traditional business card and feels creamy to the touch. There’s a gold stripe across the front and it reads Carol Bransford, CFO Dillinger Distillery.
“Oh wow,” I say, handing it back to her. “I didn’t realize you were the CFO of the distillery.”
She makes a face as she takes the card from me. “Believe me, it was a short-lived position. But thankfully, all that’s behind me. In fact, the board just reelected me as a member again. It’s a relief. I’ve given my all to that company. I’m staying on as the manager of DoReMi Karaoke. Once you have that much fun at a place of employment, there’s no going back.” She holds up her pen. “Excuse me.”
“Sure thing.” I take off toward the front just as Shep emerges from a sea of women.
He’s donned a dark suit, a dark tie, and coincidentally has a dark look in his eyes, giving him a naughty appeal that has every woman in this room at heightened attention.
He wraps his arms around me, and the entire room sighs in unison.
“I think I’m the luckiest person here.” I bite down on a naughty smile of my own.
He shakes his head. “It’s me.”
Shep takes me by the hand as I circulate the room with him, listening to dozens upon dozens of women cooing at him, watching as they give him bedroom eyes, and standing in disbelief as a couple of them brazenly slip him their number.
“You know this wouldn’t fly in New Jersey,” I whisper as we make our way to the refreshment table. “Back in Jersey, I would have had Lola hold my earrings while I gave a few numbers to the girls in question—as I counted off the amount of times my fist met up with their lips.”
“That sounds violent.”
“It might be violent, but judging by the way women are flocking to have their lips bloated with fillers, I would practically be doing them a favor. I could have charged for the service.”
“S.J. Wexler.” Mayor Wright pops up and snaps a chocolate glazed donut from one of the pink boxes on the table. “It was a delight.”
“Thank you.” Shep nods. “And I meant what I said. I’ll have my publisher send you an advanced copy in about a month when they’re available. Usually they send them out to critics and advanced readers, but I have access to a handful.”
Mayor Wright gives a hearty ho, ho, ho of a laugh even though he’s not in his official head elf uniform. It’s not hard to see why he was chosen for the job. Not only does he have the snow-white hair, but he’s got the burgeoning belly to go along with it.
“A high profile author like you? I’d suspect you can get your publisher to do anything you want.” He leans Shep’s way. “Anything new with the investigation?”
Shep tenses as if maybe there is but he’s reluctant to share.
His eyes meet up with mine for a moment. “Mayor, I don’t want to ruin your holidays, but the only physical evidence at the scene is the one that
