Carnegie Kincaid - 02 - Died to Match by Deborah Donnelly

Author:Deborah Donnelly
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Mystery
ISBN: 9780440237044
Publisher: Random House, Inc.
Published: 2002-10-01T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty

SAM WAS THE SEATTLE ART MUSEUM, NOT A STARTLINGLY original venue for a wedding reception, but very nice, very upscale. My mental Rolodex said it had room for five hundred guests stand-up, or two hundred at a seated meal, and a good marble floor for dancing at the foot of the grand staircase. Catering by the Seattle Sheraton, on exclusive contract. Joe Solveto would love to get a foot in the door at SAM; when he heard where I’d been, he’d want a close critique of the food and the service

As I steered the rental car into a cavernous parking garage near the museum, I wondered which of Dorothy Fenner’s clients had chosen this venue for a Saturday-night reception. Then, as I was fussing around trying to lock up—why do the cheapest cars have the fanciest electronic gizmos?—I remembered: Mayor Wyble’s daughter Sarah. The bride’s mother had interviewed me for the job, after a nice recommendation from Joe’s partner, but then she went with the silver-haired Dorothy. “Someone just a bit more experienced” was the way Mrs. Wyble put it. Those were the breaks, but still, it rankled. Pointers, my ass.

The museum’s grand staircase is flanked by a wall of windows facing a terraced plaza along University Street. Waiting for the light at the corner, I could see animated people in gowns and tuxedos moving up and down in a silent, brightly-lit pantomime of festivity that glowed against the evening’s gloom.

A familiar face met me at the upper level entrance: Marvin, doing another off-duty stint as a security guard. Dorothy had told him I was coming, so he just nodded and pulled open the door. Inside, in the roaring clamor of voices, laughter and music, I was intercepted by a glassy-eyed young usher who was starting to fluff his lines.

“Hi! I mean, uh, thank you for joining us. The coatroom is around the corner there, and the buffet is open, and, and everything. Thank you for joining us.”

“You’re welcome.”

I stepped around him and looked down the staircase, past the people dining at the midway landing, to the jam-packed dance floor at the bottom. This was a more sedate crowd than we’d had at the Aquarium, but Rick the Rocket, in a tux and a party hat, had coaxed them out of their seats with some Rolling Stones. His mike was on, and he was making crowd-pleasing comments about the bride and groom, who were getting down and dirty in the middle of a ring of dancing friends. There was a spark in the air that was both familiar and exciting to me: the contagious, spine-tingling sizzle of a successful event.

“Carnegie, how lovely to see you!” Dorothy, in floor-length lavender chiffon and ever-present pearls, swept over to greet me with her usual aristocratic charm. We exchanged air kisses, and I smelled liquor. Interesting. I had never, but never, seen Dorothy tipsy. There was a wistful, faraway look in her eye that suddenly sharpened to something less refined. “I suppose you’ll be fishing around for my prospective client file.

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