Adelaide Confused Page 8

  He ignored me. “So is that all that you’ve been doing, leeching off Ms. Smather’s high?”

  “Pretty much,” I said without remorse. “But I’d prefer to be gone when she starts crashing.”

  He was now mad and disappointed. “I had hoped you would be more useful than that.”

  I shrugged. “Everyone else felt typical, well, other than Harold Determeyer. He’s an exceptionally wrinkled, old letch.” He brooded in silence over my response. Finally I asked, “If you’re not looking for perverted old men and greedy young women, what are you looking for?”

  “Guilt.”

  “Embezzlement?” I guessed.

  “Something like that,” he agreed.

  I didn’t need to be an empath to know that he was lying.

  Chapter 13

  Unfortunately the evening had just begun. Word went out that dinner would soon be served and shortly thereafter guests started searching for their seats. The tables were small, seating four only. I suppose the arrangement was meant to be cozy, encouraging intimate conversation.

  A woman I guessed to be in her sixties greeted Reed. He stood and kissed her cheek. “Adelaide, I’d like you to meet Eleanor Bryant. She’s the chief finance officer for all of Wallace Enterprise.” Gesturing to me, he said, “Adelaide Graves, my guest this evening.”

  She gave me a regal nod and turned her attention back to Reed. They sat, with her taking the seat to his left, and were quickly immersed in a business discussion. I yawned, unperturbed by the loss of his attention. It was oddly relieving.

  Moments later a somewhat ruffled young man joined the table. His eyes flickered over me briefly as he took the seat to my right. Reed looked up at his arrival, shaking hands and greeting him warmly.

  Turning to me, Reed said, “This is Tim Beckett.” I shook Tim’s hand in turn. Reed continued, “Tim, this is my guest Adelaide Graves. And you know Eleanor Bryant, I believe.”

  Conversation picked up after that. I didn’t say a word, my only unspoken requirement: to look interested. They talked money, they talked politics, and they made me want to tear off my ears. Luckily, I had my emotions in check. The ballroom’s occupants were still feeling pleasant and mild.

  The servers came around to offer up options for entrees. Reed selected my meal. I was annoyed, but allowed it as I was out of my league. I didn’t know how to pronounce half of what they offered.

  Though he wasn’t much older, Tim didn’t try to talk to me. Actually, he did his best not to talk to me. Under normal circumstances this would bother me not at all, but I was bored so I decided to mess with him.

  While Reed and Eleanor were chatting I abruptly asked, “Did you ever watch Sesame Street?”

  He fiddled with his collar, trying to avoid eye contact. “No, I never did.”

  “Well, do you know the big yellow bird?”

  “I’m sorry,” he said, shaking his head, “the what?”

  “You know... the big yellow bird from Sesame Street?”

  “Yes, yes, I believe I know who you’re speaking of.”

  “I heard that bird was a hermaphrodite.”

  He went still. “Excuse me?”

  Reed and Eleanor finished their conversation and turned to us. I jumped at the opportunity I’d been granted. “Reed,” I said, “you’re never going to guess what Tim just told me.”

  “What’s that?” he asked, already amused.

  I nudged Tim with my elbow. “Go on, tell them. Tell them what you just told me.”

  He was staring at me like I was cracked, which only further encouraged me. “He said the most outlandish thing about Sesame Street. He said—”

  Tim stood abruptly. “If you’ll excuse me for a moment.”

  He tried to stalk off, but before he could go I said, “Don’t worry about it, you can tell them when you get back.”

  Reed found the episode diverting. He had no idea what I’d been up to, but he knew I’d been up to something. “I don’t think Tim appreciates your demented sense of humor.”

  “You don’t know me well enough to classify my humor. It’s not demented, it’s refined.”

  “Refined?” he queried, twirling a piece of my hair.

  I flicked his fingers away and turned my attention to eating.

  Eleanor was also eating, but I was sure she’d witnessed our brief exchange. She didn’t have an emotional response. In fact, I hadn’t felt so much as a twinge from her all evening.

  Tim returned. He scowled at me and sat down. I didn’t bring up Sesame Street or hermaphrodites. He was relieved.

  “I was sorry to hear about Theodore,” Eleanor said to Tim. She didn’t feel sorry. “Have you learned anything new?”

  He pushed the food around his plate like a child. “Mr. Wallace would know more than me, he’s been keeping in contact with the police.”

  Eleanor looked to Reed.

  “I know very little, everything is being kept quiet.” Emptiness and grief grew as Reed spoke.

  Eleanor shook her head. “It’s too late for that. Everyone already knows a murderer is running loose on St. Simons.”

  Dumbfounded, I stared at the three of them. “You knew the man that was murdered?”

  “Yes, I’ve known him for a number of years. He was a friend and colleague.” Reed spoke evenly, but I felt him hurting. “Theodore was also Tim’s mentor.”

  I looked at Tim. Tim looked at his plate. I said I was sorry for his loss, using the opportunity to lean closer, but the results were the same. Tim wasn’t feeling sad. Tim was just pretending to feel sad. I didn’t much like Tim.

  * * *

  “Dessert will be served before the speech,” a small bespectacled man announced from the podium.

  “There’s going to be a speech?” How boring.

  Reed turned to answer. “Yes, but don’t fret, it will be riveting.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “Because I’m the one giving it.” He stood, pulling me up with him. For some reason I let him, noticing how nice his hand looked wrapped around my upper arm. “While the servers clear the tables most guests mingle in the lobby or lounge. Go do what I brought you for,” he said, giving me a gentle shove. “And stay away from Danielle Smathers,” he added for good measure.

  I didn’t follow the crowd. They poured into the lobby, continuing to seep into an adjacent ballroom I took to be the lounge. Instead I went in search of the bathroom. Regardless of Reed’s instructions, I needed a break from all the emotions.

  They were just starting to disappear when a sharp concentration of hatred swamped me. Hastily I turned back, glancing down the empty marble hall toward the lobby. She was easy to spot. Sporting a little black dress and standing near the elevator was Reed Wallace’s secretary, or personal assistant, or whatever she called herself. Her eyes were narrowed, her posture rigid.

  I considered telling her that if she hadn’t been so bad in bed, Reed wouldn’t have dumped her. I discarded the idea; it just wasn’t practical. I was a non-confrontation type, plus, I didn’t want to get my eyes scratched out.

  So I watched as the elevator dinged and the doors slid open. She pinned me with one last withering glare and sauntered inside.

  Further down the hall a swirling mass made me groan. “You’ve got to be kidding,” I muttered. The ghost tried to slim down, but his desired form wasn’t cooperating. He faded in and out, doing that creepy hologram thing. I recognized the transparent tones of his clothing even from a distance. My bladder forgotten, I backtracked, rushing a little when he began to wave his wispy arms in earnest.

  The gesture matched his emotion—urgent. I would have questioned him, but people were scattered throughout the large lobby. Stupid stragglers. So I complied obediently as he shooed me along, hurrying me toward the slightly smaller ballroom where most of the guests had gathered for a quick drink.

  I was about to walk inside but his cloudy arm shot
out to stop me, and I took his sharp anxiety for warning. I heard them talking then, catching the conversation the ghost had wanted me to hear.

  “You shouldn’t be here.” A male voice I didn’t recognize.

  “I’ve got a cover,” came the deep and rumbling reply.

  “We don’t know how informed he is, your identity may be no secret. Do you want to be recognized?”

  “You worry too much,” the second man replied harshly. “He’s already seen me.”

  “You’re playing a dangerous game.”

  “I’m beginning to think it’s you who’s playing,” said the hoarse voice. “You said he’d have it, and he didn’t. I’m not a patient man.”

  “Remember who’s moving the pieces before you do anything hasty.” A small silence and then, “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have someone to meet.”

  “We’re done here,” was the husky reply.

  When I was certain that they weren’t going to say more, I hurried inside. Looking to the left where their voices had come from, I was disappointed to see nothing, not even a retreating male figure cutting through the crowd. No one stood out.

  I would have asked the ghost to identify them, but he’d already disappeared. Figured. I was starting to learn that ghosts were partially convenient but mostly unreliable.

  I was willing to wander the crowd again, but only after I went to the bathroom. Peeing didn’t last nearly long enough. Too soon I found myself surrounded by the rich and glossy. I felt Danielle once or twice. Her smooth excitement called to me, both seductive and addicting. It was a good thing I had so much self-control and managed to steer clear.

  I felt some angry vibes and checked around expecting to see the evil secretary. To my surprise, I followed the flow to an old guy. He sat at the bar, beer in hand.

  After dealing daily with Ben, handling old men seemed to come quite naturally. I sat next to him, ordered a drink I didn’t intend to drink, and said, “It’s cold in here, don’t you think?” If you wanted someone to complain, complain first.

  He spared me a sideways glance. “Put on more clothes.”

  “Is this your typical behavior, or are you in an especially foul mood?” I already knew the answer.

  “Both,” he huffed.

  “Drown your sorrows and tell me all about it.”

  He took a swig, stealing another glance. “You’re a nosy one.”

  I shrugged and waited.

  He cracked. “I have better things to do than attend this damned event. I might be old, but I’m still busy. I’ve got work up to my ears waiting for me back home.” His anger came in natural waves as he spoke, so I knew he was telling the truth.

  “This dinner is mandatory?”

  “The whole damned retreat is mandatory!” he roared in disgust.

  “You should complain to Reed Wallace.”

  “You think I want to get fired?”

  I assumed it was a rhetorical question, ignoring it accordingly. “Fine. I’ll do it for you,” I offered.

  He waved a finger at me. “Don’t you mention my name. I want no part in your meddling.”

  “Maybe you’re too senile to remember, but I never asked your name.” I stood and walked away, leaving him no angrier than I had found him.

  Chapter 14

  I’ll admit (begrudgingly, of course) that Reed’s speech was good. I forked down a fluffy chocolate thing while he went on about the future of the company. He had everyone’s undivided attention, a look around confirmed their rapture. Even Eleanor Bryant gave off her first emotion—pride.

  He made them laugh, he gave them hope, and by the end we were all confident that Wallace Enterprise was the most successful business in the whole world. He was a powerful speaker.

  And though the emotions were all good, they were running much too high for my taste. I excused myself as the speech was winding down.

  I was just leaving the ballroom when I started feeling guilty. It was only a twinge and I accepted it as my own, attributing it to my early departure. But then I remembered I didn’t like Reed, and wouldn’t give a damn if I’d killed his cat, let alone left during his speech. I glanced around as was my habit, searching for the guilty party (no pun intended).

  She was walking toward me, heels clacking away, that damned secretary. She hadn’t seen me yet because her head was down, the guilt growing stronger the closer she came.

  Curiosity ate at me, it was definitely all my own emotion. I wanted to know why she was suddenly feeling guilty. In fact, I was dying to know, but I wasn’t willing to confront her. So I hurried across the lobby, trying to duck into the other ballroom before she saw me.

  I wasn’t that lucky. Unused to heels, I turned my ankle, skidding to a stop and ramming my hip into a mahogany sideboard. The flower bouquet centerpiece swayed and I jerked to catch it. I managed in the nick of time, though a gush of water sloshed out of the vase.

  I was suddenly angry—obviously she’d seen me. I didn’t turn to check, choosing to retreat out of sight.

  Reed found me sometime later. I was wandering the empty rooms. “Why did you leave?”

  “Because your speech was awful,” I lied. “Everyone hated it. I couldn’t handle all that loathing.”

  He ignored the insult. “Come on, this way,” he said, leading me through the halls, walking like he owned the place. And maybe he did, supposedly he owned half the island.

  I followed him into a medium size room. It had floor to ceiling partitions that slid back, currently tied to the walls. A few folding chairs were propped up, and a locked cabinet made of particleboard clogged the corner. This was, by far, the cheapest place at the country club and most likely used by staff only.

  Reed, loosening his tie and shedding his jacket, walked the length of the room. “What did you learn?”

  “Eleanor Bryant is an ice queen, with little to no emotion.”

  “Forget Eleanor, she’s a valuable employee. I respect her,” he said simply.

  His quick disregard of my insight did nothing to endear him. “Okay, you’re really starting to piss me off. You’ve hardly given me any instructions, feeding me vague details along the way. I’m not a fucking machine, and there’s no program for finding secrets.”

  “That was thoughtless, I apologize.”

  “Don’t bullshit me, I can tell you aren’t sorry.”

  He nearly smiled. “Fair enough, I won’t interrupt you again, please continue.”

  I waited a moment, trying to shed my irritation. Finally I admitted, “I don’t much care for Tim Beckett.”

  “Yes, I had noticed. Any reason why?”

  “The man that died, his mentor, it doesn’t bother him. He isn’t sad and he isn’t mourning.”

  “That doesn’t make him a criminal,” Reed said.

  “But why bother with pretending?”

  “There is an explanation,” Reed admitted. “Theodore Dunn never worked for my company and neither does Tim, though I pay for their services. They’re dream interpreters. Theodore was experienced and Tim sought him out, needing guidance.

  “Shortly after they met Tim dreamt of Theo’s death and hurried to warn him, hoping to change the outcome. But Theo stopped him from revealing the details.

  “Theodore wanted to teach Tim the first lesson of interpretation, which is: learning to understand the purpose of the message. Sometimes they’re warned so they can change the future, but sometimes not.

  “Tim came to understand that he wasn’t meant to stop Theo’s death, and probably couldn’t even if he tried. Tim was only meant to be prepared for the inevitable. So if he isn’t sad, it’s because it wasn’t a shock for him. In fact, he’s been expecting it for a long time.”

  “Did they tell you? Did your friend Theodore tell you he was going to die?”

  He shook his head, the sorrow invading. “No. Tim told me all of this after Theodore’s body was found.” He pulled at his collar. “And as for th
e pretending, I suppose he does it out of respect.”

  To change the morose mood, I said, “I met an employee of yours who is none too pleased to be here. He said this whole retreat is mandatory.”

  Reed was unworried by his employee’s complaint. “I needed a reason to get them all together. I’d hoped that the guilty party might become evident.”

  “Guilty, guilty of what?”

  He gave me a bland look, unwilling to tell.

  Fine, whatever, I could be coy too. “Well,” I said slowly, “I did run into one very guilty individual.”

  “Who?” he demanded.

  “You won’t believe me,” I said lightly.

  “Adelaide,” he growled, growing impatient.

  “What was the name of your secretary?”

  He knew where this was going and didn’t believe me. I could feel his resistance to the idea, but he was smart enough not to say so outright. “I believe you’re speaking of Karen, my personal aide.”

  “Karen is a very unstable woman. I suspect she’s jealous, but I can’t feel anything past all that anger. Before you gave your speech she was mad, but after she was guilty. Very very guilty. She hardly noticed me her head was sagging so low.”

  “Karen has been with me for years. I don’t think she’s capable of duplicitous behavior. But,” he said, cutting off my argument, “I’ll take your word for it and speak with her.” He pulled out his cell phone as if he was going to call her just then.

  “Wait,” I said, stalling his call. “Before you confront Crazy Karen, don’t you want to know about the seedy conversation I just happened to overhear?”

  His eyes were sharp, drilling holes into my own. He was out of patience. “I’m not interested in gossip.”

  “So if there was, let’s say, a snoop hiding beneath your very nose, you wouldn’t be interested?”

  “What did you hear?”

  I thought about drawing out my answer just to annoy him. But the look he was giving me had an edge I didn’t much like. I found myself wishing we weren’t shut up in a room together. So I explained everything I heard without preamble.

  I could tell he understood, the words meant something to him. I felt his sense of discovery, his comprehension. After that his emotions became a stewing turmoil of complication. I pressed myself into the wall, putting as much distance between us as I could manage.