A Fashionable Murder (3 page)

“I miss running on the beach. I miss seagulls screaming in the wind. I miss the way the salty air smells. I miss sunrise over the ocean. I miss those crumb cakes from the bakery. I miss you, Josie!”

“But you’ve made friends in the city, haven’t you?”

“I have—finally. Great friends from my natural childbirth classes. And JJ and I go to a playgroup. . . .”

“JJ plays with other children?” Josie asked, glancing down at the baby who was happily licking the end of his rattle.

“Well, no, of course, not yet. But early socialization is important and I enjoy talking with the other mothers. Actually, Josie, I do miss the island sometimes, but I love it here. Finally.”

Josie, who remembered how lonely Betty had been when she first married Sam’s friend and moved to the city, smiled broadly. “I’m glad. I can’t wait to see your apartment!”

“Tonight . . .”

“Oh, Betty, tonight we’re going to dinner with the father of the boy Tyler is staying with!”

“Why don’t we all get together for brunch tomorrow morning?” Sam suggested.

“We’re not leaving JJ with sitters yet. Why don’t you two come over to the apartment and I’ll feed you the best brunch you’ve ever eaten?”

“You cook?”

Betty laughed. “No, but I’m a New Yorker now. I do fabulous takeout!”

“Sounds great,” Sam said. “What time do you want us?”

“Around eleven?”

“We’ll be there,” Sam assured her.

“You know the address?” Betty stood up and began to gather her belongings.

“Sure do.”

“What are you doing? Betty, you just got here!” Josie protested.

“We have our baby yoga class in twenty minutes. Downtown,” Betty added, probably noting the surprised expression on Josie’s face.

“Baby yoga?”

“Yes. I know it sounds a little silly, but JJ thinks it’s such fun and he usually takes an extra long nap after class so that Jon and I get a few minutes to ourselves when he gets home from work. So it’s worth going to class for a few reasons.”

“And he does seem to be remarkably flexible,” Sam said, looking down at the baby who was happily chewing on the chubby big toe on his left foot.

“Isn’t he amazing?”

Sam and Josie could both agree with that. “I’ll walk you to the elevator,” Josie said, picking up the baby chair.

“Great!”

“And I guess I’ll answer that phone,” Sam said, as its ringing interrupted him.

“See you tomorrow then,” Betty said, tightening the last buckle on her son’s pack and lifting him up.

The two women walked toward the door. “What do you think of the apartment?” Josie asked her friend before they were even out the door.

“Great apartment. Awful decorating! Didn’t you tell me one of Sam’s girlfriends did it?”

Josie felt the flood of relief that one woman feels when she discovers that her friends and she are in accord. “Yes. God, she has horrible taste, doesn’t she?”

“Hideous! Sam must have been nuts to let her decorate his apartment.”

Josie smiled uncertainly. “Or maybe he was nuts about her. . . .” The arrival of the elevator put an end to this depressing thought and to their conversation. With kisses, hugs, and promises to continue their conversation over brunch tomorrow, the women parted.

Sam was hanging up the phone as Josie returned. “Mom just called,” he said. “She wants to meet us at some café she’s just discovered.” He walked over to Josie, put his arms around her, and rested his chin on her head. “I was hoping for a romantic afternoon, but I guess that will have to wait.”

“We have lots of time,” Josie assured him. “A whole week. We’ll see your mom this afternoon, Tyler and Tony and Tony’s father tonight, and Betty and Jon tomorrow morning. Then, except for a few meetings with realtors, we have seven whole days with nothing to do.”

Sam kissed her unruly hair. “I just hope you’re right.”

Josie wondered why he sounded so sad.

THREE

INDOCHINE WAS ALMOST empty when Sam and Josie arrived. Sam explained who had made the reservations to the hostess who greeted them rather languidly.

“Oh, he generally arrives a bit later than eight, but I’ll show you to the table he usually prefers. If you’ll follow me.” She strolled between the empty tables and huge palm trees, offering them rattan chairs on the far side of a large round table in the dead center of the room. “Perhaps you’d like something to drink.”

“Yes, of course . . . ,” Sam began.

“I’ll send your waiter over then.” The woman turned her back on them and continued her stroll toward the rear of the restaurant.

Sam chuckled. “I guess we’re just not famous enough for her to bother with.”

“Is this a place where famous people eat?” Josie asked.

“Every place in New York City would like you to believe it attracts the rich and famous, or the rich and infamous, and a table like this is usually reserved for them.”

“Why?” Josie looked around. There were smaller tables and there were larger tables, but this one didn’t seem so very special.

“This is right in the middle of the room. We can see. And, more important, we can be seen.”

“What about the famous people who don’t want to be seen? The Woody Allen types?”

“They get a table behind one of the palm plants. And the waiters let the diners know that someone famous, someone who prefers some privacy, is eating in the restaurant tonight. They get their privacy and the restaurant gets some status. Works for everybody.”

“May I help you? My name is Kirk and I’ll be your wait-staff tonight. Drinks? Perhaps something to graze on while you wait for the rest of your party?” Their waiter, a tall, thin young man all in black with his hair caught back in a pony-tail hanging almost to his waist, had appeared.

“Is there a house specialty?” Sam asked.

“We have a delicious house martini, an unusual rum punch, a mango gin and tonic—”

“I’ll have the rum punch. What about you, Josie?” Sam asked, interrupting.

“The rum punch sounds delicious,” she agreed.

They had eaten lunch at one of Sam’s mother’s new discoveries. “Just like Paris,” Carol had promised. Josie hadn’t been terribly enthusiastic. She’d never been to Paris, but if she ever got there, she had no intention of looking for restaurants “just like New York City” or “just like the Jersey Shore.” When she was in Paris, she would look for Parisian restaurants. In New York City, she wanted to eat in New York restaurants. Looking around at the palm frond wallpaper while Sam ordered a selection of appetizers, she wondered at the motif.

“It’s Indonesian-French,” he explained when they were alone together again. “Fusion cuisine is very trendy right now.”

“Not very New York City,” she said.

“Very New York City. New York is a place that has taken the best from the rest of the world and adopted it as its own. But we’ll go to the Four Seasons, the Hudson River Club, or maybe the Gotham Bar and Grill later in the week. They’re all very New York.”

“I’ll gain a ton!”

“So we’ll go for long walks in Central Park and burn lots of calories. I really want us to have fun. Remember, the next time we’re in the city, we’ll be staying in a hotel . . . or at my mother’s place.”

“I think a hotel sounds just fine.” Josie’s smile widened. So he was planning another trip here—another trip with her. Then she frowned a bit. But was that what she really wanted?

“If you don’t like this, we can order something else.” Sam’s offer interrupted her musings.

Josie realized that a tall glass filled with a caramel-colored liquid and lots of ice cubes had been placed in front of her. “No, it looks just fine!” A straw piercing a slice of star fruit was stuck in the glass and she picked it up and sucked. The drink wasn’t fine; it was exceptionally fine—sweet, delicious, and strong. Carol had insisted that Josie try the salade nicoise for lunch. It had been excellent too, but small. Josie felt the alcohol swim into her brain and blinked. “Wow.”

“I hope that means you’re having a good time.”

“It means I may be drunk before Tyler arrives. And I don’t think I want that to happen.”

“Sip slowly. And I’ll ask for some water as soon as our waiter returns. Besides, it looks like you’re not going to have time to get drunk. That is Tyler walking through the door, isn’t it?”

Josie looked up. It was Tyler and Tony. She didn’t know what surprised her more: that they were both wearing black from head to toe or that they were accompanied by a willowy blond woman. Tiny gold earrings interrupted the black theme that she seemed to have adopted as well. Sam waved and the dark threesome headed toward their table. Tony and the young woman were smiling. Tyler was paying so much attention to the female member of their group that he ran into three chairs and a table on his way across the room. Josie gasped, feeling a pain in her chest. Tyler, her little Tyler, was in love!

“Hi, Ms. Pigeon,” Tony greeted them, a wide smile on his face.

“Hi, Tony. Hi, sweetie . . .” Before the endearment was fully formed, Tyler had begun to blush.

“You must be Tyler’s mother,” the tall blonde said. “I’m Toni. With an I, not to be confused with Tony with a Y. I’m Mr. Blanco’s assistant. He was held up on the set and asked that I accompany the boys here.”

“Aren’t you going to join us?” Tyler asked, still ignoring his mother.

“I would love to, but we’re having some problems with the caterers and I’ll probably spend the evening making sure everything is set up correctly tomorrow. Who knew that almost half of the local extras we hired would turn out to be either on a macrobiotic diet or vegetarians?” She sighed. “They survived on the fruit platters, salads, and breads today, but I’m trying to get in something with more protein tomorrow . . . but that’s not your problem. And I do have something else to do here before I dash.” She turned to Tyler. “Do you want to ask your mother or should I?”

“What?” Josie asked quickly. “Is there some problem? Tyler can come stay with us at Sam’s place,” she began.

“There’s no problem at all. It’s just that Mr. Blanco was wondering if you would allow Tyler to be in the movie we’re filming. He won’t have a speaking part, but he’ll get decent wages for three days of work and get to see the business from the inside.”

“Is Tony going to be in the movie too?” Josie asked.

“Mom, Tony will only do it if I do. So if you don’t say yes, he won’t get to be in the movie either.”

“But I have had other opportunities to be in films,” Tony admitted. “Not that this one wouldn’t be lots of fun and way cool . . .”

“Are there any contracts involved?” Sam asked.

“Yes. And I have them all right here.” Toni pulled a sheath of papers from her capacious purse and handed them over to Josie.

Josie passed them on to Sam. “Sam’s a lawyer,” she explained.

“Then why don’t you read them through and Mr. Blanco will be able to answer any questions you have when he arrives. I’ll see you tomorrow, boys.”

The smile on Tyler’s face disappeared as her method of address sunk in, but he politely wished her good night and cheered up as she flashed him a winning smile before turning and leaving the restaurant. When he returned his attention to his mother there was a pleading expression on his face. “I’d really like to do this, Mom! Mr. Blanco says there’s nothing like being in a movie to find out what the business is really all about!”

“Just let Sam read through the papers,” Josie suggested. “And sit down. You must be starving.”

“Not really. We’re not vegetarians. We’ve been . . . been grazing all day. You should have seen the food that the caterers brought. There was an entire roast beef ! And piles of spare ribs!”

“No wonder the vegetarians weren’t happy,” Sam muttered, flipping over the page he had been reading.

“Yeah, they were real cranky,” Tony said, sitting down in the chair next to Sam. “Perhaps I could fill in a bit until my father arrives.”

Tyler sat beside his mother. “There really are some excellent reasons to be vegetarian, you know. It’s good for your health as well as kind to the planet.”

“Is Toni with an I a vegetarian?” Josie asked.

“She didn’t eat any meat today,” Tyler answered and then grinned at his mother. “She’s one cute chick, isn’t she?” he added mischievously. It was an old family joke. Tyler had referred to the girl who sat next to him in kindergarten in that manner on his first afternoon home from school, eliciting a lecture on the proper way to address girls from his stressed-out “my son is old enough to go to school how did this happen ? ” mother who was busy stuffing him with peanut butter and jam cookie bars.

“That she is,” Josie agreed, grinning back. Black clothing or jeans, Tyler was still the son she adored. Although she firmly—and erroneously—believed that she had managed to keep these feelings from him. “So how has your day gone? Did you really have lunch with Julia Roberts?”

As if overhearing this reference, the waiter reappeared at their table carrying a tray filled with tiny plates of food. “Perhaps you would like drinks as well?” he asked, looking at Tony and Tyler.

“Coke with two slices of lemon,” Tony ordered.

“Make that two,” Tyler added.

“Maybe you both should look at the menu and see if there’s anything else you want to order,” Sam suggested.

“I know the menu here by heart,” Tony said and proceeded to order what sounded to Josie like a feast for at least half a dozen people.

“So you had a good day—besides eating lunch with Julia Roberts?”

“Yeah, really. And,” he added before she could ask another question, “we have taken ten pages of notes and are going to start putting our impressions on the computer tonight. Tomorrow we’ll take a laptop along with us while . . . well, while we’re doing whatever we are doing.”

“This looks okay to me,” Sam said. “You have to sign it and I’ll keep a copy. This way Tyler can be in the movie if the footage they use turns out to have him in it. And, even if he ends up on the proverbial cutting-room floor, he’ll be paid three hundred dollars for every day he’s on the set.”

“Three hundred dollars?”