âFinally, his career was the one put on ice.â
Ice? I straightened up with a jerk. Could he be talking about Henri? Who else?
âI only wish I could have seen the look on his face,â Marcello added.
I pressed against the door to see more clearly, and the hinge creaked.
Marcello froze. âHold on a second. I think I heard something.â
With my heart pounding, I let the door go and spun around. I ran back to the front of the house, passing Kate and Richard in the sitting room. I kept running to the foyer, motioning them to follow me.
âWait for us,â Kate cried, grabbing both of our purses.
Richard stood holding an empty glass of champagneas Kate hurried away. âWhatâs the rush? Theyâre holding the table for us.â
âCome on.â I gave a nervous glance toward the kitchen door. âIâll tell you once weâre out of here. Itâs about Henriâs murder.â
Richardâs shoulders sagged. âAgain?â
I nodded. âA suspect just moved to the front of the line.â
Chapter 14
âCoy does not become you, Annabelle.â Richard stepped out of his convertible after parking next to us in the Georgetown lot. Weâd taken separate cars to the restaurant so we wouldnât have to drive Richard back to Capitol Hill after dinner. It was early enough that weâd found space in the tiny public lot next to Mie N Yu.
âIâm not being coy. I just want to wait until weâre sitting in the restaurant to tell you. Someone could overhear us on the street.â
âWho?â Richard looked around us. âA homeless person or a Hari Krishna?â
âLess talking, more walking.â Kate passed us and strode down the sidewalk toward the brick red and gold facade of the restaurant with sheer yellow curtains fluttering in the doorway. âIâm dying for a martini.â
âYou shameless hussy.â
I recognized Fernâs voice immediately. Or maybe it was his vocabulary I recognized. Who else called people hussies to their face? I turned to find him standing behind us wearing a long black Nehru jacket with an ornate silver cross hanging down the front. If I didnât know better, Iâd have pegged him for a priest. Although the slicked back ponytail and giant rings on his fingers were a bit of a giveaway.
Kate spun around with a smirk on her face. âLook whoâs talking.â
âI am a man of the cloth.â He looked wounded, then grinned at us. âYou wouldnât believe how nice people are to you when youâre a priest.â
Richard shook his head. âYou do know youâre not really a priest, right?â
âIâm a hairdresser. Itâs close enough,â Fern explained. âI take confessions exactly like they do.â
Richard frowned. âBut priests donât spread the stories they hear all over town.â
âA technicality, Iâm sure.â Fern dismissed Richard with a wave of his hands. âWhat I want to know is why youâre tying one on at five-thirty? Isnât it a little early?â
âNot after the meeting we just had.â Kate sighed. âA nightmare bride.â
Fernâs face lit up. âWorse than the one who had me put three tiaras in her weave? Do tell.â
I looked at Richard, who shrugged his shoulders, and then I turned to Fern. âWould you like to join us for dinner?â
âOnly if I wouldnât be imposing,â Fern said as he linked arms with Kate and led the way into Mie N Yu without a backward glance.
As I followed them through the opening in the restaurant doorwayâs sheer curtains, my eyes took a few seconds to adjust to the low lighting inside. Mie NYu had been designed around the travels of Marco Polo, so there were tons of low tables surrounded by luxurious cushions, tables perched high in cages, and red fabric cascading from the ceiling. Kind of an East meets West meets
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