The program I had picked up at the entrance listed our names at Table 2. I could spot the top of Jed’s head as I plowed halfway through the room, waved to the mayor, who was working the tables near the podium, and stopped for a kiss from one of Jed’s partners as I neared my empty seat.
“Sorry, Jed, the usual complications and excuses,” I whispered to him as he rose to introduce me to the rest of the men and women at the table. Anderson Warmack grinned down at me from the dais on the stage, and it seemed that I owed Richard Burrell a small ‘thank you’ for the timing that had made it possible for me to avoid any discussion of the late Lascar with the fat tycoon.
Jed was in a good mood, despite my failure to show up for the reception.
“Warmack came into my office at the end of the day,” he explained, sotto voce.
“He’s not ready to make any public announcement tonight, but he’s going to issue a press release right after the Christmas holidays, and I’ll probably be named to the presidency of the company by February. I’m going to plan a wonderful trip for us over New Year’s, to celebrate – it may be my last vacation for a year.“
I was thrilled for Jed, knowing how much he had wanted all this to fall into place and how hard he had been working for Warmack’s approval. I squeezed his thigh under the table as he tried to run his hand under my tight sheath and pinch me, winking at me with an enormous grin on his face.
“You’re not going to make me wait till New Year’s to celebrate, are you?” I teased. “Can’t we start sooner?”
“Of course, darling. We can get a room here tonight and go right upstairs after the speeches and…”
“Whoops, maybe tomorrow. That’s a wonderful offer, but I’ve got to leave after the testimonials, Jed. Chapman’s meeting me with some evidence that just came in from Massachusetts so I can look at it tonight.”
“Evidence? What kind of evidence? I thought there was no other evidence.”
I laughed at Jed’s concern.
“I’m not making that mistake again. My lips are sealed. It’s just a long shot, some things I want to look at, in case they contain any leads.”
“Will you come back and meet me later for a nightcap? Larry, Stan, and I are taking Anderson over to the Tap Room at the University Club for a more intimate toast when this is over.“
“Are you crazy? I’ve got a sentence first thing tomorrow morning. You take care of what you’ve got to do you should be very happy with the news you got today. And don’t make any plans for the weekend the celebration will be my surprise, okay?”
The speeches went on interminably, and I was relieved that Warmack had finished his remarks before I checked my watch, rose, and said my good nights, and kissed Jed good-bye. It was a little after ten-thirty when I went out of the hotel through the revolving doors and let the doorman help me into a yellow cab for the short ride home.
Mike’s car was parked at the end of the circular driveway when my cab pulled in and dropped me at the apartment. He was standing in the lobby with the two doormen, critiquing whatever sports event had been on the tube that evening.
“Whoa, blondie, bet you ten on the Final Jeopardy question tonight you didn’t catch it, didya?”
“Hardly.”
“Category was African history. Wanna bet?”
Damn. Not one of my strengths.
“Did you get it right?”
“Yeah. You chicken?”
“All right, ten dollars.”
We were in the elevator on the way up to my floor.
“The Final Jeopardy answer is: Napoleon defeated them at the Battle of the Pyramids in 1798.”
I shook my head.
“Just deduct the ten from whatever you owe me.” I didn’t have the faintest idea.
Mike gloated: “Who are the Mamelukes? I knew you wouldn’t know that. I should have doubled my bet.” He proceeded to give me a thumbnail version of the battle, which was apparently fought nowhere near the great pyramids, and explain who the Mamelukes were and where they came from. He was a whiz at both world history and military battles, and delighted in showing it off.
“I hope I do better with Wally’s photos,” I said, as I turned my keys in the locks.
“Not much to see.”
“Do me a favor and put up the coffee. I’m just going to get out of this dress, okay?”
It only took me a minute to change from the silk dress into my long shirt and leggings. I hurried back to the kitchen to get out mugs for the coffee that Mike had already scooped into the coffeemaker, then we both went into the living room to look at the blowups he had picked up from the lab when he came on duty half an hour earlier.
“Who took the photos?” I asked as Mike untied the brown Homicide folder in which he carried his case file.
“Wally says tourists are calling in from all over. But most of these first shots are from islanders. You’ll see in a minute when you start to look at them almost all of the ones I have with me tonight were taken on the ferry on different trips throughout the week. The story and appeal for the film was on the radio as well as in Friday’s Vineyard Gazette, and locals started showing up at Wally’s office on Saturday morning with rolls of film, claiming they thought they saw Isabella on the boat ride.
He thinks some high school kid with a serious case of acne and a hard-on for Isabella actually made her on the ferry and was trying to get pictures of her along the way. Wally figures that’s why most of the time she’s got her back to the camera and she’s looking out at the water.“
Mike stacked the pile of photographs on the table, and I sat next to him on the sofa as we scrutinized them one by one.
There were a few false starts – photos of the vista with a blonde on the edge of the pack, but if you looked closely at the eleven-by-fourteen enlargements, you could tell that the bad legs or the wide beams were not those of Isabella Lascar.
When we got to the fifth picture, Mike looked down to remind himself, “I think this starts the roll taken by the high school kid. Doesn’t that look like Isabella in the corner?”
No doubt about it. It was like looking at a roundup of hundreds of horses going to the glue factory and spotting a thoroughbred in the mix. Her long lines and elegant bearing made her a standout in the crowd, even though the camera range was too distant to catch the distinctive features that took your breath away when she was illuminated on a giant movie screen.
“That’s Iz in the far left corner. Makes you guess that the photographer hadn’t spotted her yet she’s just part of the background at the moment.”
The next three photos were also panoramic views of the sail back to the island, like the kid’s soccer coach had told the whole team on their way home from the game in Hyannis that they each had to shoot a roll of film before the boat docked. Mike walked to the kitchen to bring us both a cup of hot coffee.
“Should be coming up on some one-on-ones.”
Sure enough, the next few photos looked like the high school inquiring photographer had figured out who the great-looking woman was, and perhaps had even approached her with the camera. Isabella seemed to be turning away from his lens, shielding her face already half-hidden behind oversized tortoise-shell sunglasses with one raised arm and grabbing the railing to her far on side with the other. The cameraman kept a respectable distance, but the as next frames were all focused on Isabella, even though she had turned her back to her earnest admirer. I could recognize the outfit she was wearing a turquoise-and white-striped Escada sweater with white walking shorts, and those unmistakable racehorse legs extending forever above platform espadrilles that tied at the ankles. ‘ “You get to the guy yet?” Mike stood across from me, sipping his brew while I let mine cool to a drinkable temperature.
“I figure I can do an APB‘ all-points bulletin – ’for a reward and information leading to the identification of the man attached to the five fingers you can see in the photo. Right?”