“According to the police, Curtis was already dead. Marsha admitted to making the call to throw them off and make you a suspect, too.”
“You’re kidding.”
“It worked. Marsha’s a pragmatist.”
“That’s one word for it,” I said.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
I hate banquets. I hate any occasion that requires wearing a dress. Lately, when I go to court, I’ve been getting by with pantsuits, depending on whether the judge is able to handle such a radical concept. I’d managed to scrape up a decent form-fitting navy knit number that ended a few inches above the knee.
I checked myself in the mirror, adjusted one leg of my tights and swore. “We should be having fun, not going to some stuffy-ass banquet,” I muttered.
“Are you ready?” Jamila appeared at the door, dressed to the nines in a shiny black sequined sheath with a bolero jacket.
“I hate tights. My legs feel like sausages.” I struggled with the hose, twisting and pulling. After a f
inal yank, I said, “Fine. I’m ready.”
“Aren’t you going put on makeup?”
I waved a hand and made a “pfft” sound between puckered lips. “Why? Who am I trying to impress?”
“C’mon, Sam. It’s a banquet.”
“Exactly. It’s a banquet. Not my coming-out party.”
As we hustled to grab our bags and get to the car, I thought about those words. “Coming out” took on an interesting possible meaning in light of what Jinx had threatened. However, it would be fascinating to see what the night would actually bring.
“I still can’t believe this nightmare is over,” Jamila said, as she drove. “I can’t believe that woman went to such lengths to set me up.”
“It was opportunistic. Since Dad owns the place, Junior was able to get a copy of the key to the condo and slip it to Marsha. So, while we were out on our nature hike on Assateague, she snuck in and stole the knife and clothes.”
“All because they knew about our argument the day before?”
“That and the noise complaint that started everything.”
“Well, I guess there’s a lesson in this, isn’t there? If your neighbors make noise, ignore them.” She laughed, which made me even happier than I’d felt during dinner the night before.
*****
The banquet was standard fare. A big room jammed with round tables hidden beneath white tablecloths, each set for eight people. A long dais ran along the far wall with a head table for the bigwigs. People in their finery milling about, drinks in hand, sampling from a selection of hors d’oeuvres like bacon-wrapped scallops, chicken wings, and mini crab cakes set up over steam trays, plus a big bowl of chilled shrimp on ice with a ceramic cup of cocktail sauce jammed in the middle. The crowd jostled me. The air was stuffy, even though the AC was blasting. Conflicting scents of excess cologne made me sneeze. As is usual at these things, everyone seemed to be talking at once.
While Jamila grabbed a couple of seats at a table near the dais, I got a glass of wine at the open bar. My second glass of wine in two days? I’m not usually a drinker, but this wasn’t just any old night. Although I normally would have preferred a table along the periphery, tonight I wanted a front row seat for what I anticipated could be a most interesting show.
As I took my seat next to Jamila, I saw him. Ray was seated at the head table. Of course. His very young fiancée, Amy, was next to him. Both of them were beaming. Ray was talking a mile a minute to a gray-haired guy in an expensive navy suit. Clearly, Ray was in his element. He stopped talking and did a visual sweep of the room. His glance drifted my way momentarily, paused a second, and kept going.
“Hey, guys!” Kait Farrell’s voice interrupted my thoughts. She walked up to the table and, over her glasses, bestowed a mock glare my way. “Where’ve you been all weekend?”
“Um, kind of busy.” I glanced at Jamila. As always, her expression was unruffled.
Kait made a loud “tsk, tsk” sound, while shaking her head. She smiled at Jamila and said, “Your presentation this afternoon was great, by the way.”
Jamila nodded, looking serene. “Thank you.”
I looked at Jamila. I felt so proud of her. She looked just like a judge should. I could picture her in robes one day.
“Sam.”