Six Cats A Slayin'

TWELVE

I was in the kitchen when Helen Louise arrived at ten minutes to seven. Diesel must have heard the key turn in the lock, because he darted out of the room. He escorted her into the kitchen, trilling and chirping—no doubt telling her how gorgeous she looked in her new dress.

I caught my breath looking at her. Her dress, she had told me during a phone conversation, was silk, but she hadn’t shared the color. A brilliant emerald green, the dress had simple but elegant lines and reached to mid-calf. The fit was ideal for her statuesque figure, and the color complemented her lustrous black hair and dark eyes beautifully. Low-heeled black pumps, a black clutch purse, and a black jade-and-gold necklace completed the ensemble.

She stopped a couple of feet in front of me, awaiting my reaction. “Stunning,” I said. “Every other woman at the party will be ready to claw your eyes out for making them pale in comparison.”

Helen Louise laughed. “Thank you. That is exactly the effect I was going for.” She moved closer to kiss me. Then she drew back and eyed me critically. “You look pretty stunning yourself. That black suit is my favorite, and how clever of you to wear a tie that complements my dress.”

Startled, I glanced down at my tie. I didn’t remember which one I had chosen. Then I laughed. The swirling pattern of emerald green and black did complement her dress. “We’ll just have to let everyone think we coordinated our outfits.”

Stewart walked into the kitchen along with Haskell. “Turn around and let me see the dress,” Stewart said.

Helen Louise turned to face the two men, and Stewart whistled appreciatively. “Absolute knockout,” he said. Haskell smiled broadly and nodded in agreement.

“You two look pretty spiffy yourselves,” Helen Louise said. “Don’t you agree, Charlie?”

Stewart and Haskell wore black suits similar to mine, with white shirts and brightly colored ties. I had to admit that, with their muscular frames and broad chests and shoulders, they looked more impressive in their well-fitted suits than I did in mine.

I laughed. “I do, although if the three of us stand around together at the party, the other guests are liable to think we’re undertakers.”

Haskell laughed, but Stewart shook a finger at me. “Don’t even bring up any subject related to death,” Stewart said. “No need to put those vibes into the ether.”

“I didn’t realize you were superstitious,” Helen Louise said. “You can’t taint the atmosphere by simply mentioning a subject.”

“I’m not, particularly,” Stewart said. “Superstitious, that is. I simply don’t want the notion planted in my brain. I’ll have to flirt outrageously with all the attractive men and good-looking women at the party now to dislodge it.”

Haskell snorted. “As if you needed an excuse.”

Stewart ignored that sally. “Shall we saunter over? It’s two minutes to seven.”

“Do you want us to be the first ones there?” Helen Louise asked. “Isn’t that a bit uncouth?” Her lips twitched.

“What if it is?” Stewart said. “I want to be able to watch as everyone else arrives.”

“Whatever for?” I asked.

Haskell rolled his eyes. “So he can act like he’s a reporter on the red carpet and comment on what they all look like in their party clothes.”

Helen Louise linked her arm with Stewart’s. “You can be Alice Roosevelt, and I’ll be your best girlfriend.”

Haskell looked puzzled, and I explained the reference. Alice Roosevelt was once supposed to have said that if you knew anything bad about someone, you should come sit next to her and share the dirt. He rolled his eyes again when I finished my explanation.

After a brief check on the kittens, we stopped in the hallway for Helen Louise to retrieve her coat. Haskell opened the door, and out we went. I had looked out the living room window earlier to see whether Gerry’s decorations were back in place. They were. Alight, they looked as obnoxious as I anticipated. I wouldn’t get the full effect, I was sure, until I was standing right in front of them.

Two cars occupied space in front of Gerry’s house. Some neighbors would no doubt walk to the party. Two children, girls around nine or ten, stood on the sidewalk gawking. They squealed in excitement and pointed at various parts of the display as we walked past them and up the walk.

Gerry’s assistant, Jincy—whose last name I had forgotten already—opened the door to us. She recognized me and nodded, and I quickly introduced the others. She stood aside and waved us in. “Down the hall and on the right at the back is the den,” she said to Helen Louise. “You can leave your coat there.”

Helen Louise thanked her, and I walked with her to deposit the coat on one of the chairs we found in the room. At least, I thought it was a chair. It looked horribly uncomfortable to me, an object shaped like the number five, but without the bar at the top.

Helen Louise and I looked at each other and shrugged. We walked back down the hall to rejoin Stewart and Haskell. The former, I noted, had placed himself beside the door to the living room. He faced the front door, so evidently Haskell hadn’t been completely joking when he mentioned the red-carpet routine.

Haskell stood with Jincy near the front door, engaged in conversation with her. Helen Louise and I approached Stewart.

“Any arrivals while we were putting away my coat?” Helen Louise asked.

Stewart shook his head. “Shouldn’t be long now, though.”

There was still no sign of our hostess. I wondered about that, and then it dawned on me that she was probably either in the kitchen dealing with the catering staff or upstairs waiting until more people arrived. Then she would sweep down the stairs the way Loretta Young used to in her television show, smile benignly upon her suitably appreciative guests, and deign to converse with us.

Good grief. I’m starting to sound like Stewart. I had to suppress a chuckle at the thought. Later on, I would have to share that with him.

Helen Louise, Stewart, and I chatted while we waited for our hostess to put in an appearance and for more guests to arrive. Waiters came by with champagne and indicated that food awaited us in both the living and dining rooms. We each accepted a glass of champagne. I didn’t have a refined enough palate to discern one champagne from another. After a sip—it went down smoothly—I looked to Helen Louise, who did have a refined palate.

“Bollinger,” she said appreciatively. “Evidently our hostess has expensive tastes, or else she’s out to impress.”

“Provided,” Stewart said with a grin, “that anyone else besides you tonight can tell Bollinger from the bargain bubbly most people serve at parties like this.”

Helen Louise grinned and gestured toward the door. “Here comes someone who can tell.”

Surprised, I glanced at the door to see Milton and Tammy Harville pause to talk to Jincy while Haskell moved to join us.

“Milton?” I said. “Or Tammy?”

“Milton,” Helen Louise responded. “He’s quite knowledgeable. We often talk about wines when he comes by the bistro. When Tammy isn’t with him, of course.” She sipped her champagne. “When they’re together Milton hardly says a word, particularly not to me or any of my female staff.”

“I didn’t realize it was as bad as that,” I said.

“That’s why he tries to keep her out of the drugstore,” Stewart said. “The woman is obsessed. He can hardly do his job when she’s there because she dogs him like you wouldn’t believe.” He shook his head. “I’ve seen it a few times, and it ain’t pretty.”

I looked at Tammy, glowering at Jincy while Milton conversed with her. A peroxide blonde, Tammy had a hard look about her. She seemed permanently disgruntled whenever I had the misfortune to run into her. Milton served as the target for all her discontent. He couldn’t seem to measure up to what she required, no matter how he tried. She ran him down all the time, even right in front of him. I wondered why he didn’t seek a divorce on the grounds of mental cruelty.

We continued to watch the trio near the door. From what I could tell, Milton was making an effort to end the conversation with Jincy. He kept darting sideways glances at his wife. Tammy continued to glower. Finally, she seemed to have reached her boiling point. She grabbed Milton’s arm and towed him away from the door, leaving Jincy open-mouthed and Milton beet red.

Tammy pulled her husband into the living room without any acknowledgment of the four of us by the door. Milton glanced at us, his expression a sad mixture of apology and shame.

Stewart sighed. “Did you see what Tammy was wearing? I swear, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a woman with a knack for always picking out the most unflattering outfit she can find.”

I hadn’t paid any particular attention to what Tammy was wearing myself. I had been too busy watching her face. Helen Louise had noted the outfit, however. “Can’t argue with you, Stewart,” she said. “Her skin looks like leather from all those hours in the tanning bed. Wearing gray with blonde hair and a complexion like that makes her look so much older than she really is.”

I had to agree, now that I took a more critical look at Tammy, that the combination of gray dress, bleached hair, and tanned skin made her look way older than Milton.

“Enough of that. I don’t know about y’all,” Helen Louise said, “but I’m ready to sample the food. I’m curious to find out who did the catering.”

“I’m ready, too,” I said. “Excuse us, guys, unless you want to join us.”

Stewart shook his head, his gaze intent on the front door as new guests continued to arrive. Haskell sighed. “I’m coming with you. I’ve had enough red carpet for one night.”

The three of us stepped around Stewart and into the living room. As I gazed around the space, I noted that some pieces had been shifted to accommodate two tables full of food. The holiday decorations were on the minimalist side, as they had been in the hall, I now realized. I wondered why Gerry hadn’t attempted to make the rooms more festive when she had gone overboard in decorating the exterior of the house. Anything in the holiday mode that might jibe with the industrial feel of the room, however, was hard to imagine.

I followed Helen Louise and Haskell to the end of one of the tables. They picked up plates, napkins, and forks and began to move down either side. I could tell from my partner’s expression that what she saw laid out did not impress her. I had to agree. Given the money Gerry had spent on the champagne, I somehow thought the food would be more than what one could get at the local discount warehouse. Mini-quiches, a variety of cheeses and crackers, sliced apples and grapes, and sliced ham and turkey—all no doubt tasty enough, but nothing out of the ordinary. We loaded our plates and moved on.

The second table replicated the first, we discovered. “Perhaps the dessert-type items are in the dining room,” I said.

Helen Louise shrugged and cut a mini-quiche in half. “Probably those little cheesecake squares and chocolate-covered cherries.” She chewed the piece of quiche. “Not bad,” she said when she finished it. “Not great, but not bad.” She ate the other half.

“Not near as good as your food,” Haskell said. “But I’m not going to turn it down.”

I finished a cracker with mozzarella and a couple of red grapes. I loved cheese, and the mozzarella tasted fine. I might have to go back for more of it, I decided.

We moved out of the way of other guests who had drifted toward the tables, and found a corner across the room from the one currently occupied by Milton and the still-haranguing Tammy. While we ate, I couldn’t stop watching the unhappy couple. Milton looked like he wished the floor would swallow him, but other than simply walking out on his wife, I doubted there was any way he could cut off the flood of vituperation. I couldn’t hear the words, but the tone was obvious, even fifteen or more feet away.

Haskell spotted a man he wanted to talk to, excused himself, and left us.

I recognized most of the people in the room now, four couples and three singles. The guests started to mingle, once they had loaded their plates. We began to circulate to chat with them. Most of them knew Helen Louise because of the bistro. I glanced toward the door to see Stewart still avidly watching the arrivals. A couple paused to talk to him, and a few more guests wandered into the room, evidently in search of food. They headed straight for the tables.

“Quite a good turnout,” said Betty Camden, a retired schoolteacher who lived at the end of the block on my side. “I know I, for one, have been dying to see the inside of this house.” She laughed. “Particularly after seeing the outside. Talk about over-the-top.”

“Yes, it’s pretty extravagant,” Helen Louise said. “And so is the champagne.”

“Can’t say the same for the food.” Betty cast a critical eye over the contents of her plate, then glanced around the room. “Her decorating style is not my taste at all, I must say. Way too modern.”

Chip, Betty’s husband, said, “Looks like the inside of a factory to me.” I didn’t know him or his wife well, only saying hello if I encountered them somewhere. “I’m dying to meet our hostess,” Betty said. “I’ve seen her two or three times out and about in town, and once when I drove by here, but that’s it. Have you gotten to know her any, Charlie?”

“I hear she’s attractive,” said Chip, and Betty flashed him a look of irritation.

“Nobody asked you.” Betty turned back to me.

“I’ve chatted with her a few times,” I said. “Briefly. She did tell me she grew up here, but I’d never met her before, and she seems to be about my age. If we’d gone to school together, I think I would remember her.”

Betty nearly spit out a mouthful of champagne. “Don’t let her fool you, at least about her age. I got a good look once at her face and her neck. She’s closer to my age, I’d swear to it. I grew up in Athena, too, and I don’t recall her, either. Definitely some kind of mystery there.”

“You ought to be able to figure it out.” Chip, a lawyer often rumored to have political ambitions, nodded at me. “You like solving mysteries, right?”

I laughed. “I do, but I’m not sure this is one I want to solve.”

“Don’t encourage him,” Helen Louise said.

A sudden commotion in the hall interrupted us. Nearly as one, the guests in the living room surged toward the door. Helen Louise and I set down our plates on a small table against the wall before we followed. We ended up next to Stewart. He grinned at us and said, “Fasten your seat belts. It’s going to be a bumpy night.”

I almost didn’t hear him because of the screeching going on right in front of us. Tammy Harville and Gerry Albritton faced each other at the bottom of the stairs. Gerry stood silent, her expression one of bored contempt as she listened to Tammy.

All conversation had ceased by then, and everyone had no trouble hearing Tammy’s next words.

“I’m telling you for the last time, you whore. Stay away from my husband, or you won’t live to regret it.”