First to Die

THE WOMEN'S MURDER CLUB
Chapter26

BECKY DE GEORGE in the bloom of her first full day as Michael's wife, walked out of the hotel lobby holding her husband's hand. She breathed in the cool night air, the first fresh air she had inhaled all day. In the brief span of their marriage, she and Michael had made love several times and taken two steamy showers together. They had poked their heads out for an obligatory but, at last, final brunch with the families. They had begged off the trip to Opus One, scurried back upstairs, and popped a last bottle of champagne. Michael had put on a sex video and as they watched the film they played out some unusual and exciting roles. He seemed to have several fantasies about wearing women's clothes. Tomorrow, they'd be off to Mazatlan, for a heavenly week exploring all those sexy spots on his body she had yet to find. Maybe they'd even come out once or twice to see the dolphins. So far, she decided, things were going very well. Tonight, they were headed to the French Laundry, the finest restaurant in Napa. Everyone said it was the place to eat, and they had booked the reservation almost six months in advance. Becky's mouth watered as she dreamed of some fabulous sequence of tastes: foie gras, wild-berry duck, all washed down with an expensive champagne. On the short walk to the car, a black limo pulled up alongside them. The passenger window opened, and a uniformed driver stuck his head out. "Mr. and Mrs. De George They looked at each other, puzzled, then smiled. "That's us." "I'm at your service," the driver announced. "Compliments of the hotel." Becky was ecstatic. "You mean for us?" Once, in her job as a legal secretary, at a big closing, she had ridden in a fabulous stretch; but she had been jammed in the backseat with four preoccupied lawyers. "Booked and paid for the night," the driver said, and winked. The newlyweds exchanged a bright, exclamatory look. "No one mentioned anything about this," said Michael, who seemed pleased with the notion that he was thought of as a VIP. Becky peeked inside. "Oh, Michael." There were lush leather seats and a polished mahogany bar with crystal glasses. The lights were dimmed to a romantic glow. There was even a bottle of chardonnay on ice. She thought of pulling up to the most fashionable restaurant in Napa in this wonderful car. "C'mon, Michael." She laughed, almost pulling him in. "It'll be a trip." "I can be waiting at the restaurant when you come out," the driver said, "and as it happens, you're talking to someone who happens to know the most scenic routes through Napa." She saw Michael's mild hesitation begin to crack. "Don't you want to take your princess in style?" Just as he had when she first smiled his way in the office, just as he had in bed last night, she saw him slowly come around. He was a little cautious sometimes. Accountants often were. But she'd always found ways of loosening him up. "Whatever Becky wants," Michael finally said.