Murder at the Cabaret Read online

  A middle-aged fellow wearing a suit greeted her.“May I help you?” he purred.

  "I'm just having coffee and maybe a pastry while I wait for my grandson."

  “Follow me.” The man grabbed a large one-page menu and led her to a quiet table in a corner of the dining area. She could have protested being shoved aside but it turned out she had a perfect view of Taylor Bray and his guest.

  "Thank you," Georgie replied absently.

  She watched the two men after quickly ordering herself a cup of coffee and a square of Mille-Feuille. Her mouth watered at the thought of tasting the exotic cream and jam filled pastry, but she was also fascinated by the conversation going on at Taylor’s table. At first, Georgie assumed Taylor was meeting with an insurance agent. Surely he would have had a policy on his wife. That was nothing suspicious. The man did have a briefcase and pulled out a folder that he spread across the table, but then the man pulled out swatches of fabric. Taylor surely wasn’t getting a custom suit made. Not in the deep reds and greens she was seeing. The man also had a color key for paint that Taylor flipped through.

  “What is he doing?” Georgie wondered.

  The waiter brought a steaming cup of coffee and a delicate pastry, setting them both down in front of her. The pastry was a rectangle of several thin layers alternating between white, thick pastry cream and gloriously red raspberry jam. Georgie picked up her fork, carved a slice, and took a bite. Her mouth instantly wrinkled into a grimace. "This is horrible." She grabbed her coffee and took a gulp. The scalding liquid was a welcomed sensation to scour away the taste of the dessert. "Ugh. Who would eat this? It was like radishes with sugar on them." She shivered.

  Now she saw Taylor smiling, laughing with the man before pulling a pen from his breast pocket and signing something. Both men stood from the table and shook hands. The other man put all of his fabric swatches and documents back in his briefcase, clapped Taylor on the back, and promptly left the restaurant. Without hesitation, Georgie threw a couple of dollars on the table and followed the man. Suddenly he turned into the men’s room, forcing her to loiter around and wait. Just as he came rushing out of the door, Georgie took two steps to collide right into him.

  Chapter 12

  “I’m so sorry,” she fussed.

  “It was my fault. I was not looking where I was going,” the man apologized. His clear blue eyes looked friendly enough for Georgie to continue her ruse.

  “Well, Mr. Smith, it is good to see you.”

  “I’m sorry again. My name is Bernard. Calvin Bernard.”

  Georgie stood there like she had been slapped. “You’re not the fellow who put the siding on my house last year?”

  “No, ma’am. I’m not.”

  “Well, I am embarrassed. You’re sure you don’t put on siding?”

  “Yes,” he chuckled, “I’m actually in the restaurant business.”

  “Restaurants? How exciting. I absolutely love to eat. Please don’t tell me you have anything to do with the kitchen here. I just ordered the worst pastry ever created. A plate of sand would have been better.”

  Bernard laughed, “I don’t have anything to do with this place. I was just meeting a client here to discuss his investment in a new restaurant.”

  “How exciting! Will it be in the neighborhood? You can never have too many good places to eat.”

  “Actually, it will be just about six blocks from here. He’s investing in a new place called The Dock. It’s a space themed restaurant—like you are at a space dock.”

  “How absolutely clever!”

  "I thought so. The environment will be very minimalistic, you see. The tables and seats are very futuristic looking, and the bar will be almost completely done up in faceted mirrors. Specialty drinks will be named after Captain Kirk, Luke Skywalker, and let's not forget some of the famous aliens we all know."

  “Like who?” Georgie feigned interest.

  “Like...well, I don’t know yet. But, I’m sure Mr. Bray will come up with something.”

  Georgie’s right eyebrow shot up like Mr. Spock’s. “Fascinating! That sounds like it will be a smashing success! When do you expect to open?”

  “Well, we just finalized the paperwork on The Dock, so it has to go through the proper channels with the city. Zoning, inspections, insurance, and all that nitty-gritty has to be finalized. Then, there is the marketing and publicity that will need to be drummed up. I’d say you are looking at a grand opening date within the next three to four months.”

  “That soon? How wonderful!”

  "Well, it took a while to get investors. My last client was the big investor I needed. However, in my business, there is no such thing as big or little investors."

  Georgie nodded.

  "If you are ever in the market to invest in your neighborhood, I hope you'll consider giving me a call." Calvin reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a business card and handed it to Georgie. "If you don't mind my asking. What do you do for a living?"

  "I'm an artist," Georgie said while reading his card. "I paint pet portraits. In fact, I'm finishing up a grand portrait of two Chow Chows, Stanley and Stella, that is just precious."

  “That sounds fantastic. I have a Maine Coon cat named Tiny. How much do you charge for a painting?” Georgie explained her rates and time frame to Calvin and gave him one of her business cards. Speaking to him turned out better than she could have planned.

  “Well, Georgie, it was nice meeting you. I’ll call next week so you and Tiny can meet.”

  “That sounds lovely, Calvin. Have a great day.”

  Calvin Bernard continued out of the country club. Georgie looked over her shoulder at Taylor who was still sitting at the table except this time there was a waiter standing next to him opening a bottle of champagne.

  "NOW, THAT IS A LITTLE strange for a man who twenty minutes ago left his wife's body to be cremated," Aleta said. She set a plate of rice crispy treats on the kitchen table. Georgie quickly helped herself to one, reliving the horror of the Mille-Feuille she had tasted earlier that afternoon.

  "You'd think in a country club where the membership was over six grand a month that they'd have fantastic desserts," Georgie said with her mouth full.

  “People pay for the name. You are probably the only person who would complain about the food. The rest will choke it down if they eat sweets at all. Oh, maybe it was one of those healthy alternative kinds of desserts—you know, that don’t have any sugar or taste to them?”

  Georgie snapped her fingers. “Of course, that would explain it.”

  “But, that doesn’t explain Taylor’s weird behavior. I can’t get over that champagne thing. Never in a million years would I have done something like that after William died. Never in a million years.”

  "Even if I didn't like the man, I don't think I could be so cold-hearted. At least, not in public," Georgie opined.

  “Speaking of which—,” Aleta looked over her coffee cup, “anything more from Stan?”

  “Not today. Although, it’s still early.” Georgie's cell phone rang. She looked at the number and smiled. "Hello, Obby," she chirped. "How are you?"

  Aleta’s eyes widened as she took a bite of rice crispy treat. The conversation consisted of Georgie saying, yes, no, and that would be lovely so much that Aleta couldn’t figure out what in the world they were discussing, making Aleta’s wait for information agonizing.

  “That would be lovely, Obby. I’m looking forward to it, too. I’ll see you then.”

  Georgie hung up and looked at Aleta. “What?”

  “So? What was that all about?”

  “Obby wanted to know if I’d like to go to the grand re-opening of the cabaret on Saturday after dinner.”

  “And what did you say?”

  “Well, I said yes, of course. It’s perfect timing. It’ll get me back inside the theater.”

  “To do what?”

  “Sometimes, Aleta, you can’t plan it out. You have to just let it unfold in front of you. That’s c
alled having faith.”

  “Yes, and also called twenty-twenty hindsight if you aren’t careful. Are you sure you want to go back to that place? You’ve been tailing and contacting and sneaking around half a dozen people. If they see you there, they might think they’ve had enough of you.”

  “Enough of me? There is no such thing!”

  "You know what I mean," Aleta whined. "All you need is one homicidal maniac mad at you and the next thing you know you're in a shallow grave with a cadaver dog sniffing out your bones—ten years from now!"

  “Since when did you get so dramatic? You sound like—” Georgie folded her arms over her chest and tilted her head to the right. “What did Stan tell you?”

  “Nothing...much.” Aleta pulled her lips down and pouted. “It isn’t the worst thing in the world to listen to him.”

  “He’s got you convinced Obby is a serial killer, doesn’t he?”

  “No. Not at all. He’s just saying that you can never be too careful.” Aleta looked at her sister and nodded her head.

  “So exactly what does Stan propose—that you find out where Obby and I are going so you two can conveniently show up there and spy on us? My gosh, are we freshmen in high school? No. We can’t be because freshmen in high school have more brain cells in operation than Stan does.”

  “He’s made plans for all of us to go out this afternoon.” Aleta got up to grab a couple bottles of water from the fridge. She handed one to her sister.

  “And, what are we doing?”

  “Well, he and Andrew made the plans together. He is the boy’s father, after all.” Aleta saw the anger surfacing on her sister’s face.

  “I know who Andrew’s father is. All too well.”

  "We are going to Roger's Park, if I remember right."

  "Stan knows I love Roger's Park. It has the most beautiful walking trail of all of them. That dirty rat."

  “He’s a dirty rat for making plans to go to one of your favorite places?”

  "Of course!" Georgie snapped. "He's got me spinning in circles. I have a nice time talking with Obby. We have a common interest in art that Stan just doesn't understand. To him, I paint cute little pictures and make a halfway decent living at it, but that's all. To Obby, I can explain how I feel—my motivations, my inspirations."

  “Have you ever tried to talk to Stan about this?”

  “And watch his eyes glaze over? Yes, I’ve tried,” Georgie harrumphed. “Stan’s got me feeling like I’m doing something wrong, and I resent that—especially after he just decided to go off on his own without a second thought about me or the kids.”

  Aleta put her hand over Georgie’s and squeezed. “I can’t help that I like Stan and will probably always cheer for him, but I understand what you are saying. Neither Stan nor I should decide what makes you happy.”

  “Believe me, Aleta, I’m not just going out with Obby to upset Stan’s applecart. I just want to see what happens. He might become a really good friend. Or, he may turn out to be a complete freak and then everyone can say, ‘I told you so,’ but I have to be the one to find out.” Georgie took a long swig of water. "Those rice crispy treats hit the spot. I think they finally got the taste of dirt out of my mouth from that Mille-Feuille."

  “Remember that time we were at Aunt Genevieve’s house for Christmas and she made those cookies? You could bang them on the table, and they wouldn’t crumble.” Aleta started to giggle.

  “We thought they were those special teething cookies, except there was no one with a baby around. Our kids were older. You said they were for Uncle Clarence because he had no teeth,” Georgie squealed with laughter. “He could gum them.”

  “You were the one banging them on the table while people were trying to talk,” Aleta let out a snort as she laughed.

  “I only did that so you would see me. No one else saw me do it. They just thought I was rapping my knuckles on the table.”

  “Really? Aunt Genevieve sent us home with tins filled with those things.”

  Georgie snorted, "I've still got mine. I use them for door stops in my sunroom." Both women whooped.

  Chapter 13

  By the time Andrew and J.R. returned from their day out with Stan, the day had wound down to a little past five. "We've got some fun planned for tonight, Mama," Andrew said as he kissed his mother.

  “Your father is coming?” She said as she poured some dog food into Bodhi’s dish and set it on the floor. His feet clicked on the kitchen tile until all that could be heard was the snorting and crunching that meant he was eating.

  “Yeah, he went to change clothes. He’ll be back in twenty minutes.”

  Georgie turned and looked at her son with one eyebrow raised.

  “I’m sure that look is for you, Bro,” J.R. joked.

  “What did I do?” Andrew asked.

  “You didn’t do anything on purpose, I’m sure.” Georgie put her hand on her hip. “Your father misses you and wants to see you as much as I do. I’m just afraid you guys are scheming and planning things that just aren’t going to happen.”

  “I’m not scheming.” Andrew’s eyes were wide as he shook his head from side to side. “Dad might have said something but I never—"

  “What did your father say?” Georgie folded her arms.

  “Well, he said that it didn’t bother him that you are going out on a date because he knows you and knows that no one will love you as much as he does.”

  Georgie couldn’t argue. What Stan said was true. She did know that no one would love her as much as Stan. “Your father is a drama queen.” She shook her head.

  “He said he is worried, though, that you won’t tell him where you are going—just in case the guy tries to put the moves on you or hurt you.”

  Georgie laughed. “Your father is giving himself away. He thinks every guy has his mind in the gutter like he does.”

  Andrew wrinkled his nose. “Mama. I don’t want to know things like that.”

  J.R. laughed out loud at that comment.

  “Well, it’s true. Your father wants my body.”

  “Mama! Stop!”

  J.R. laughed harder.

  “Well, what do you think happened before you were born—that a star appeared in the sky that night?”

  “Yuck! You’re grossing me out!”

  “And, I thought you were the mature one out of my three kids.”

  “What’s everybody laughing about?” Stan said after letting himself in the front door.

  “Your son and I were just having a discussion.”

  “Mama is being gross.”

  “What’s gross?” Georgie held her hands up innocently.

  “What else is new?” Stan added.

  "Very funny.” Georgie shot a look at Stan. “I hear through the grapevine we are going to Roger's Park?"

  “Big-mouth.” Stan elbowed Andrew.

  “I didn’t tell her.”

  Stan squinted at J.R. “Wasn’t me.”

  “Oh, you guys really are a team. Aleta told me.” Georgie pushed through the men in her kitchen to grab her purse. “That’s why I changed into my gym shoes.” She pivoted her feet showing off her yellow platform high-tops that added two extra inches of height. "Andrew, J.R., why don't you two go and round up Aunt Aleta? We'll meet you in the car." The boys walked out the front door. Georgie rummaged through her purse mumbling about keys, a wallet, cab fare, and tissues.

  “You are looking mighty nice, Georgie.”

  “Stan, don’t think a couple of compliments are going to put you in the driver’s seat. I don’t really appreciate your recruiting our son to put in a good word for you, especially Andrew. Jonathan would have been a much harder nut to crack, and you know it.”

  “I’m not recruiting anyone.” His voice was smooth. “I’m just telling your son how much I care about his Mama. Is that so bad?”

  "Don't take another step toward me, Mister," Georgie smirked as Stan sauntered closer and closer.

  “I promise to keep my hands to myself. I jus
t thought I could smell my favorite perfume; that’s all. Are you wearing Emerald?”

  “You know I am, Stan. It’s one of my signature scents. Now stop.” She shook her head.

  “Now, you know that is my favorite. Don’t go and get all mad at me for leaning in occasionally to get a whiff.”

  “A whiff? How classy.”

  Stan laughed out loud. “You are a pistol, Georgie.” He held the front door open for her as they left together.

  Roger’s Park was a beautifully landscaped section of the city. It looked like a piece of country had been dropped right in the middle of the metropolis. “You guys up for a boat ride?” Andrew pointed to the dock where half a dozen paddleboats were waiting to be taken out on the small man-made pond that stretched the length of three football fields.

  “I am.” Aleta clapped.

  “You can come with us, Aunt Aleta.” Andrew grabbed her by the hand.

  “Looks like you are stuck with me, Ms. Kaye,” said Stan.

  “You and Andrew planned this, didn’t you?” Georgie pinched her lips together.

  “No. He loves his aunt. Simple as that.”

  He took Georgie’s hand and they followed the rest out on the dock.

  Once inside the cozy paddleboat and out on the water Georgie couldn’t help enjoying herself. The sound of the calm water lapping at the side of the boat and the smell of the tall grass growing along the banks transported her to another place and time. “I feel like I’m in a Victorian romance,” Georgie joked.

  “Do you?” Stan gave her that look she knew all too well.