Dark Tort

of fresh garlic and kneaded them into unsalted butter along with dried herbs. When the concoction was thoroughly mixed, I placed it into the refrigerator until it was time to coat the tenderloins.

“You told me to keep my ears open for things about Dusty,” Marla said, when she returned from a sneaky trip into the living room, where she’d managed to pour herself a rather hefty brandy snifter full of what looked like sherry. I certainly hoped it was sherry, because if it was brandy, we were all going to be in trouble even sooner than I’d thought possible. And also…had I asked her to keep her ears open for news about Dusty, or did Marla just imagine I’d asked her? After taking a long sip of the golden liquid, she said, “And I did. Keep my ears open, that is. Now, though, I’ve been witness to an actual event. But you won’t ask me what it is.”

“I’m asking,” I said eagerly, as I began to wash the vegetables.

“Vic Zaruski took a diamond ring back to Aspen Meadow Jewelers when it opened today. I know, because I was there, too, looking for some earrings with orange in them. Did you know there are no precious gems that are orange?” She took another slug of liquor. “Anyway, Vic talked in a real low tone, which made me edge closer to the conversation, of course. Vic said that the ring had never been worn, and he wanted to return it. ‘Please,’ he said, ’cuz he didn’t have much money. Our town jeweler, who, remember, is not the most tactful person in the universe, said, ‘So things didn’t work out, eh?’ And Vic, who needed the money from the ring, let’s remember, threw that little velvet-covered box through the window of Aspen Meadow Jewelers. Do you know how hard it is to break plate glass? Oh, well, I guess you do, Goldy. In any event, even if a diamond is the hardest substance on earth, it was still inside that little box, so it couldn’t have helped—”

I turned away from the vegetables. “Was anyone hurt?”

“Nah. There was glass everywhere, and the jeweler yelling, ‘You’re going to have to pay for that, buddy! And I don’t take back used jewelry!’ Vic was outside searching in the debris for his little box, which I guess he eventually found, ’cuz then he took off.”

“Oh, man, he’s playing the piano for the birthday party today,” I said mournfully, thinking now we had one more person not in a party mood. I felt guilty, too, because I’d precipitated the wave of glass-breaking that was now taking place in our little town. “Do you know who the ring was for?” I asked. “Dusty?”

Marla took another long pull on her drink, then smacked her lips. “Well, you know what I always say: ‘One can only presume.’ But yes, I’d say it was for Dusty.”

“Doggone,” I said, the vegetables momentarily forgotten. Luckily, Julian picked up where I’d left off.

But wait. Since Vic was playing the piano today, why couldn’t I ask him myself about the ring? How deeply had he been disappointed by his breakup with Dusty? And did he happen to catch the license plate of the SUV that supposedly tried to mow him down when he was carrying Dusty’s computer?

“And there’s more.” Marla’s husky voice indicated something of a sexual nature was about to be divulged. “Donald Ellis? Our birthday boy?” she whispered. “According to one of my friends who called after I asked for info at Creekside Spa, Donald had an affair with Wink Calhoun last year.”

I turned to her. “You’re kidding. Donald and Wink?”

Marla drew herself up. “I am not kidding, or at least my friend isn’t. She’s not the most reliable person in town, but she does pick up a lot of scuttlebutt.”

“I can’t believe it,” I said, thinking of Donald Ellis’s short stature, unappealing red hair, completely nonathletic build, and poor-me demeanor. “Did Nora know? Is she the jealous type?”

Marla shook her head and downed more of her drink. “Neither, according to my friend. Nora was and is clueless. Rich, but clueless.”

“I just hope she’s rich and generous,” Julian said.

“Maybe that’s why Wink wasn’t invited to the party today,” I commented. “Nora didn’t want to see her.”

“Wink is staff, Goldy,” Marla said, before draining her snifter. “She wouldn’t have been invited anyway.”

Julian, intent on the vegetables, said, “You never know.”

And indeed, you never do know, because when I tried to call Wink back on my cell, there wasn’t any answer. Swallowing hard, I left what I hoped was a benign-sounding message. I really needed to talk to her, and could she please meet me in the St. Luke’s kitchen the next morning, at half past eight? The christening ceremony didn’t begin until ten, but I needed to be there early because of the food. And because I want to see the expression on your face when I ask why you conveniently left out a big chunk of H&J gossip, I thought, but of course didn’t say.

As I energetically juiced the lemons for the vinaigrette, I was kicking myself for not wondering why Wink had had so much time to visit with a supposedly inebriated Donald at the H&J Christmas party. Was it possible Donald had actually told Wink that whole long story about Uriah…as pillow talk? Was it possible she’d said Uriah was always poking around at H&J because the bishop had once caught them in flagrante delicto?

I twisted the last lemon down hard on the juicer. Of course, Wink’s sex life, and what she might have done with Donald, was none of my beeswax. But I had to pose another, more troubling question: Was there any chance meek, mild Donald was “New O.,” and that Dusty had supplanted Wink, thus making Wink murderously jealous? If so, how in the world was I going to ask Wink such a thing?

I groaned. Dusty and Uriah. Dusty and Alonzo. Dusty and Donald. And then there was the client, Rock Ode, whom I was set to meet today. These were definitely too many possibilities to contemplate.

I resolved to turn my attention back to the party, even though this was becoming difficult. But then Marla announced she was going next door to visit a friend from the country club. Louise Upton was nowhere to be seen or heard. So Julian and I finally had a chance to finish the setup, uninterrupted. Better yet, we eventually mustered up pretty good moods.

At half past eleven, tall, blond Nora Ellis, looking juicy in raspberry-sherbet-colored Juicy Couture sweats, came into the kitchen looking harried. She dropped off four bottles of wine and called for Louise Upton, who made a silent appearance by the island. Nora said she was dashing up for a shower and could Louise please greet the guests? Louise responded in the affirmative, then disappeared again. If I’d been Louise, I wouldn’t have wanted to risk another encounter with Marla either. I decided not to tell Louise that Marla had gone next door.

At half past twelve, Vic Zaruski, looking solemn, knocked on the kitchen door. He wore an impeccable white shirt and perfectly creased black pants. In his right hand, he was clutching what looked like sheet music.

“Um, is this where I’m supposed to be?” he asked, smiling nervously. “I’m playing the piano for the party.”

“You’re in the right place,” I assured him. “Have you had anything to eat?”

He eyed the tenderloins and potato puffs, and shook his head. “I haven’t been hungry since, since…you know.” He lowered his voice and avoided my eyes. “Were you able to get any information off of Dusty’s computer?”

“Not yet,” I lied. “It was pretty banged up after being dropped in the street. Listen,” I said as if it had just occurred to me, “did you make a police report about that attempted hit-and-run?”

He gave me a startled glance and blushed to the roots of his mop of curly hair the color of straw. “No, I just thought…I didn’t think it was that big a deal.”

“I don’t suppose you had a chance to catch even a part of the license plate.”

He shook his head ruefully. “I didn’t even see the make of the vehicle. Or whether it was, you know, black or dark green or, uh, navy blue.”

“Right,” I said. I kept my voice sympathetic. His answer felt a bit too rehearsed. Had the police spent much time with him after I found Dusty? Did they consider him a suspect? Julian was out in the dining room arranging the serving utensils for the buffet, so I said quickly, “I heard you had a troublesome incident at Aspen Meadow Jewelers.”

Vic opened his brown eyes wide. His cheeks were still flaming. “Well, I guess I need to go set up my sheet music.” He quickstepped out of the kitchen.

I didn’t get a chance to ask him any more questions before the party, nor did I feel comfortable snooping anywhere in the house. I still had to unwrap the chilled cake, a job that had to be done at the last possible moment. It was a good thing it was my final task, because once I was done, two of the three neighbor couples appeared at the back door bearing gifts. I supposed the main entrance was so imposing, nobody wanted to use it. I ushered