Social Death: A Clyde Shaw Mystery by Tatiana Boncompagni Page A

to call him on his cell when I spotted him in the kitchenette, chatting up Sabine. She was leaning into him, her pretty face lit up like Fifth Avenue on Christmas. I knew that if I didn’t break them up then and there, he’d have her legs in the air by the end of the week—maybe sooner.
    “Hey Alex.” I stepped between them. “Any more scoops from Pump-me-Hard ?”
    He laughed it off, but his cheeks had turned beet red. “Penny Harlich’s covering the Kravis story for GSBC. Clyde thinks because I talk to the competition, I must be sleeping with it,” he told Sabine.
    I planted my hands on my hips. “All the more reason for you to stay as far away from her as possible. I don’t like the idea of you swapping tips with her. Saliva, that’s your business. But that’s where the reciprocity should end until this story is over. Capiche ?” I turned back to Sabine and left her with one parting comment. “You’d better watch it, dear. This one has an appetite for fresh meat.”
    “You know, Clyde, I wouldn’t have pegged you for a rumormonger,” Alex called from behind me.
    “You know you love me,” I yelled back, circling my way back to the green room.
    Delphine was still in makeup so I went back to my desk and dialed Panda. This time he picked up. “How’d you like Ehlers?” he asked.
    “I would have liked him better if he gave me time of death.”
    Panda chuckled. “I bet you would have.”
    “Please, Neal. I need to know it.”
    He sighed. “ME says 10:25, but you didn’t hear it from me.”
    That was a little more than four hours after she sent my text, and about twenty-five minutes after Olivia arrived back at the Haverford with Rachel. It was also an hour before that lady said she spotted Rachel on the street arguing with a man. “Pastrami’s on me next time,” I said before hanging up.
    Delphine sat on a lumpy love seat in Topical Tonight ’s so-called green room. No green here, just beige wall coverings, some worse-for-wear seating options, a coffee table covered with ancient issues of New York and Time and three near-empty candy bowls, plus a machine that spat out coffee, hot chocolate, and hot and cold water. Would you like anything?” I asked, gesturing toward the machine. “Water, tea?”
    She’d removed her jacket and her sleeveless navy blouse exposed a pair of muscular arms. “Nothing, thanks.”
    Delphine looked away, her hands balled up in her lap. I could tell she didn’t feel like talking, but I had questions I couldn’t ask her while anyone else was present and certainly not while we were being taped.
    I sat on the cushion next to hers. “What do you think happened?”
    She angled her body back toward mine. “Clyde, don’t make me do this with you. I’m here because someone has to be. Please don’t make this any harder for me.”
    “You know you’re the only one I can talk to,” I said, lowering my voice to a whisper.
    “Please, Clyde,” she repeated, her nostrils flaring as she grabbed both of my hands in hers. “I can’t.”
    I set my jaw, soldiering on. “Have you told the police?”
    “Why would I?” she asked.
    “Because of Rachel. Someone’s going to figure it out if they haven’t already.”
    She released my hands, looking away again. “I doubt that.”
    “What about when the police find Rachel? You don’t think she’s going to talk?”
    She pressed her lips together. “There’s nothing I can do about that.”
    “Delphine, I was visited by one of the detectives. He asked me if Olivia was in a relationship. I was thinking that now might be the perfect opportunity to get it out there.” I paused to give her a chance to respond, but none came. After a long silence, I ventured, “Isn’t it better coming from you, a family member, than someone else? And on our network?”
    She jerked her head toward me, her body language freshly combative. “How? No one knew.”
    “Plenty of people knew. Olivia respected your family’s wishes, given their