teased.
“Two does not make a collection,” he corrected, with a twinkle in his dark eyes. “Will you pay a call? Come for lunch?”
“Perfect. I’m starving all the time. In fact—”
Herman caught my longing glance and his southern manners kicked in instantly. “Sit down, and I’ll go get you some canapés. Another drink? What are you having? Tonic and lime?”
“Thank you, Herman.”
To Nico, Herman said sternly, “Don’t ask her any uncomfortable questions. She’s a lady.”
As the former wide receiver eased off to find me food and drink, catty Nico wasted no time asking me a very uncomfortable question. “So, Nora, what do you know about Lexie Paine? Did she survive prison? And what’s she up to now? Has she moved to Borneo to bilk unsuspecting natives for another fortune?”
I bit back a snappy retort and said, “As far as I know, she isn’t allowed to leave the country.”
Nico gave me a sideways frown. “You’re disappointingly discreet.”
“Yep.”
“Well then, how are things going between the beauty and the beast?”
I sat down in the nearest chair. “I don’t know who you’re talking about.”
“You and your Mafia Prince, of course.” Nico remained standing and pulled out his slender cigarette case. “I suppose you have nothing to say about him, either. Never mind. I approve, you know. My father used to say the Blackbird girls always chose the wrong men, but a woman as otherwise polite as you needs forbidden love in her life. If you didn’t have a scoundrel in your bed, you’d have to do something else extraordinary. It gives you a necessary dash of piquancy.” He squeezed my arm, probably intending to take the sting from his words.
For someone who made his living in the cutthroat business of running posh nightclubs in New York and London as well as Philadelphia, he only occasionally let his softer side show, and I should be thankful for the squeeze. But I never really liked hearing editorial comments about my private life.
I said, “Nico, I need some gossip.”
He laughed, chose a cigarette and closed the case. “Not so discreet after all, are you? Well, you’ve come to the right man. But only if it’s off the record.”
I could use his information as deep background and not mention his name in print. “It is. I must ask you to keep it to yourself, too. It’s about Jenny Tuttle. I think your parents knew her father.”
Nico’s powerful father had owned a big theater in the city, and Nico had loved the stage since he was a small boy—which was why he donated to theatrical causes now that he could afford to be philanthropic. I was betting he might have some info about the Tuttle family.
Nico sat down with me on the bench. “They did know Toodles. So did I. In fact, he helped me get started in the club world. Heeven played in my first establishment. If not for him, I might be running a string of seedy strip clubs instead of attracting celebrities with live music and thousand-dollar bottles of vodka.”
“I doubt it would be strip clubs.”
He allowed a small smile as he put the cigarette between his lips. He didn’t light it. “As for Jenny—I met her a few times. We weren’t exactly close, but I knew her.”
“You heard she died today?”
Nico removed the cigarette and held it in his fingers, his usual dispassionate demeanor fading. “It was on the five o’clock news before we came here. I heard the word
homicide
. What happened?”
I told Nico what I knew about Jenny’s death, and he shook his head.
“What a shame. It’s hard to imagine anyone would want to kill her. Jenny was remarkably unremarkable, don’t you think?”
“That’s unkind.”
“But honest. If you met her at a party, you’d send her to the piano as soon as possible, right? She was comfortable playing background music. It was the metaphor of her life, wasn’t it? She had some talent, but not like her father. Toodles was the life of every party he ever
“Two does not make a collection,” he corrected, with a twinkle in his dark eyes. “Will you pay a call? Come for lunch?”
“Perfect. I’m starving all the time. In fact—”
Herman caught my longing glance and his southern manners kicked in instantly. “Sit down, and I’ll go get you some canapés. Another drink? What are you having? Tonic and lime?”
“Thank you, Herman.”
To Nico, Herman said sternly, “Don’t ask her any uncomfortable questions. She’s a lady.”
As the former wide receiver eased off to find me food and drink, catty Nico wasted no time asking me a very uncomfortable question. “So, Nora, what do you know about Lexie Paine? Did she survive prison? And what’s she up to now? Has she moved to Borneo to bilk unsuspecting natives for another fortune?”
I bit back a snappy retort and said, “As far as I know, she isn’t allowed to leave the country.”
Nico gave me a sideways frown. “You’re disappointingly discreet.”
“Yep.”
“Well then, how are things going between the beauty and the beast?”
I sat down in the nearest chair. “I don’t know who you’re talking about.”
“You and your Mafia Prince, of course.” Nico remained standing and pulled out his slender cigarette case. “I suppose you have nothing to say about him, either. Never mind. I approve, you know. My father used to say the Blackbird girls always chose the wrong men, but a woman as otherwise polite as you needs forbidden love in her life. If you didn’t have a scoundrel in your bed, you’d have to do something else extraordinary. It gives you a necessary dash of piquancy.” He squeezed my arm, probably intending to take the sting from his words.
For someone who made his living in the cutthroat business of running posh nightclubs in New York and London as well as Philadelphia, he only occasionally let his softer side show, and I should be thankful for the squeeze. But I never really liked hearing editorial comments about my private life.
I said, “Nico, I need some gossip.”
He laughed, chose a cigarette and closed the case. “Not so discreet after all, are you? Well, you’ve come to the right man. But only if it’s off the record.”
I could use his information as deep background and not mention his name in print. “It is. I must ask you to keep it to yourself, too. It’s about Jenny Tuttle. I think your parents knew her father.”
Nico’s powerful father had owned a big theater in the city, and Nico had loved the stage since he was a small boy—which was why he donated to theatrical causes now that he could afford to be philanthropic. I was betting he might have some info about the Tuttle family.
Nico sat down with me on the bench. “They did know Toodles. So did I. In fact, he helped me get started in the club world. Heeven played in my first establishment. If not for him, I might be running a string of seedy strip clubs instead of attracting celebrities with live music and thousand-dollar bottles of vodka.”
“I doubt it would be strip clubs.”
He allowed a small smile as he put the cigarette between his lips. He didn’t light it. “As for Jenny—I met her a few times. We weren’t exactly close, but I knew her.”
“You heard she died today?”
Nico removed the cigarette and held it in his fingers, his usual dispassionate demeanor fading. “It was on the five o’clock news before we came here. I heard the word
homicide
. What happened?”
I told Nico what I knew about Jenny’s death, and he shook his head.
“What a shame. It’s hard to imagine anyone would want to kill her. Jenny was remarkably unremarkable, don’t you think?”
“That’s unkind.”
“But honest. If you met her at a party, you’d send her to the piano as soon as possible, right? She was comfortable playing background music. It was the metaphor of her life, wasn’t it? She had some talent, but not like her father. Toodles was the life of every party he ever
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