Waiting for Armando (Kate Lawrence Mysteries) by Judith K. Ivie Page B

just outside the taped-off door to Girouard’s office didn’t hear us coming. As we got closer I saw that it was Vera, locked in a close embrace with her friend Grace, whose back was to us. Instinctively, I put out a hand to halt Ingrid behind me, and we both stopped and stared, unable to believe what we were seeing. This was no hug between friends. This was the full-bodied, hair-stroking intimacy of an established love.
    Ingrid and I froze, trapped between our unwillingness to witness such a private moment and our inability to withdraw without making ourselves known. With Grace still murmuring in her ear, Vera opened her eyes and saw us. Before any of us could say anything, we heard Karp’s voice as he came down the aisle from the men’s room with Girouard’s father. Vera and Grace stepped away from each other, and Vera smoothed her hair before greeting her father-in-law serenely.
    “All set, gentlemen?” she inquired. “I was just about to check on Martha.” She gestured in our direction. “Hello, Ingrid. I’d like you to meet my longtime friend, Grace Eckersley. Grace, this is Alain’s assistant, Ingrid Torvaldson . I’m afraid I don’t know your companion.”
    With a visible effort, Ingrid pulled herself together. “Kate. Kate Lawrence, Donatello Bellanfonte’s assistant. Kate, this is Vera Girouard .”
    I met Vera’s extended hand with my own. Her fingers were as cool as her demeanor.
    “I’m so very sorry for your loss, Mrs. Girouard ,”
I said. “I didn’t know your husband well, but I know he will be missed.” I noticed that her lipstick was smeared slightly and wondered if I should point it out. Probably not.
    “Thank you, Ms. Lawrence. Harold, I wonder if you would finish the introductions while Grace and I find the women’s room. I’m getting a little concerned about Martha finding her way back.”
    Vera led the way down the aisle, and Karp introduced Ingrid and me to Girouard’s father, who was understandably bemused and distracted. Karp seemed a little perplexed about our presence at BGB until we explained about the long lines and Ingrid’s wish to check on her telephone messages, since we had left the office early on Friday.
    “I appreciate your conscientiousness, Ms. Torvaldson ,” he oozed insincerely, “but I’m sure that under the circumstances, any callers will understand a delayed response. I suggest that you let it go until Monday. We should all be getting back across the street now.” As he spoke, he relocated himself between Ingrid and her desk and discreetly but firmly ushered our little flock back toward the elevators.
    Margo and Strutter were standing outside the women’s room door, making awkward conversation with Vera, Grace and Alain’s mother. They were clearly relieved to see us, but Karp looked just as annoyed to see them as he had been to see Ingrid and me.
    Karp used his personal passkey to allow us to enter the elevator lobby on thirty-seven, instead of trooping back up the stairs to exit through reception, and in moments, we were back on the first floor. He held the door open for the Girouard party, nodded curtly to us, and set a brisk pace back to the Hilton. He was probably worried that the crowd would eat up the firm’s profits for the month while waiting for the receiving line to form.
    We hung back a little, then walked slowly down Church Street as Ingrid and I filled in the other two on what we had witnessed between Vera and Grace. It wasn’t easy to do, since Strutter kept clapping her hands to her head and saying things like, “No way!” and “Get out!”
    Margo remained uncharacteristically silent until we reached Trumbull Street, and then she got a fit of the giggles, drawing censorious stares from the nicotine addicts among the mourners, who stood outside the Hilton’s main entrance, sucking furiously on their cigarettes.
    “Do you mean to tell me that all this time the great lover’s wife was cheatin ’ on him with a woman ? Whooeee ,