Love in the Morning (24 page)

Dick gave her a sly smile. “Even if you can't tell who it is, you can tell who it isn't. That ain't you, toots. Which means somebody else screwed around with your food. Which gets you off the hook, seems to me.”

“It does and it doesn't. It shows somebody else could have poisoned the food, but it doesn't prove it.” Lizzy grimaced in frustration.

Nona put her hand on her arm. “It's okay, honey. It's just a fallback. In case somebody tries to cause trouble.” She glanced over her shoulder at the most probable source of that trouble as the bank of television lights moved closer.

Lizzy gritted her teeth. “Right. Can I keep this?”

Dick shrugged. “Sure, for what it's worth. A picture might be enough to head her off.”

Nona frowned. “Don't wave it around too much, though. She doesn't necessarily need to see it. Just tell her you've got proof somebody other than you put something in the food. That might be enough to shut her up.”

Lizzy tucked the file into her own tote bag as Nona and Dick strolled on to Ted's margarita stand. They might be right—the threat might be enough to keep Teresa at bay. But knowing her cousin, Lizzy really doubted it.

Beside her, Clark grabbed an empty platter to fill with tarts. “What's up?”

“Nona and Dick think they've found something that will help with the Teresa situation.” She started filling another platter with muffins.

He frowned. “But you don't?”

“I'm not sure.”

“Worth a try, though?”

“Sure—if we have any problems.” She was still hoping they wouldn't. Given her choice, she'd prefer getting no attention at all to getting into a shouting match with Teresa.

Someone was certainly getting into a shouting match a couple of aisles over. Lizzy could hear female voices, but not what they were saying. It sounded like the
Lovely Ladies
were on the move.

“Crap,” Clark muttered. “Why don't you go over to Ted's and have a margarita or something. I can do this.”

For a moment she considered following his suggestion. Then she shook her head. “Nope. My kitchen, my tarts. Besides, I'm not exactly obvious back here.”

He studied her for a long moment. “You're sure.”

She nodded. Even if she wasn't sure, she'd give a good imitation of somebody who was. “No problem.”

He pulled the apron off, folding it as he moved back toward the side. “I'll be right here. If you need anything, yell.”

“Right.” She lifted more tarts out of the cooler, arranging them on the warming tray as Desi picked up another plate of muffins.

The television lights illuminated the end of their aisle as the group rounded the corner.

Lizzy took a deep breath. “I'm going to stay back here,” she said. “You can handle the front.”

“Okay.” Desi looked a little confused, but not particularly concerned. He'd been handling the front mostly by himself for a couple of hours by then. “Everything all right?”

“It's fine.” She forced her hands to unfist, flexing her fingers. No point in getting herself into a state if she didn't need to.

People were moving away from the booths toward the television lights now. Lizzy put together one more plate of muffins, then stepped closer to the back of the booth. With any luck she could blend into the shadows. Of course, the fact that she was wearing a white coat against the navy blue curtains wasn't going to make disappearing any easier.

The women's voices grew louder now. Lizzy almost thought she could pick out Teresa's high-pitched snarl, but that was probably just nerves. She busied herself with the tarts. They were almost gone—maybe twenty-five or so left.

“Hey, the cameras are coming our way,” Desi called. He sounded excited.

Lizzy took another deep breath.
It's okay. It's all going to be okay.
She kept her head down, arranging the last tarts on the warming tray and spreading muffins on a serving platter.

“You ought to see this,” Desi said. “It's really cool.”

“I've seen it before,” she said curtly. Maybe she could take some of the empty cartons out to the van. They didn't have that much food left anyway.

The noise and lights had reached Ted's margarita booth. She could hear what the women were saying now. Some of them didn't like margaritas. Some of them liked margaritas but didn't like Ted's margaritas. At least one of them wanted hers frozen. Lizzy couldn't hear what Ted was saying, but she guessed he was doing some advanced teeth gritting.

A few moments later, the women were pulling back, grumbling. The word
rude
was repeated a couple of times, so was the word
bitch.
Apparently, Ronnie hadn't been quite as diplomatic as Ted.

Lizzy stepped closer to the back, keeping her head resolutely down. If she couldn't see them, they couldn't see her.
That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

“What is this?” One woman's voice cut through the crowd noise.

“These are pumpkin muffins. And these are bacon and egg cheddar tarts.” Desi sounded proud. He had a right to be, of course.

“Ugh, gluten,” the woman's voice dripped with contempt. “Right?”

“Well…” Desi sounded a little less confident.

“And carbs,” another voice added. “Lots and lots of carbs. Christ, doesn't anybody in this town eat healthy food?”

Don't look up, don't look up, don't look up.
Lizzy could sense Desi glancing her way. She kept her concentration on the warming tray.

“They taste good.” Now Desi sounded annoyed.

Good for you. Don't let them rattle you.

“Oh, I'm sure they're just great,” the carbs woman sneered. “Hell, you might as well eat Big Macs or something.”

The other voices were moving away. Lizzy willed Desi to keep quiet.

“But…” he started and then stopped.

Let it go, let it go, let it go.

The lights were moving away now. And the cameras. It looked like they were going to luck out after all.
Move, move, move, move…

She was almost ready to peek at the retreating crowd when a familiar voice cut through the background noise.

“What the hell are
you
doing here?”

Chapter Twenty-Four

Lizzy took a deep breath, then straightened her spine. She might as well keep her dignity, even if everything else was going to be stripped away.

“I'm doing my job,” she said flatly. “I'm a chef.”

Teresa stood at the side of the booth. She wore another pair of stiletto-heeled boots with jeans that were so tight Lizzy wondered how she could breathe. Her lips were drawn into a sneer.

“You? You're cooking?”

Lizzy glanced away from Teresa's furious dark gaze for a moment. Teresa's friend Amber stood next to her, her artificially red-gold hair twisted up in an elaborately messy topknot. She looked more confused than furious.

“Yes, I'm cooking. It's what I do.” She drew her gaze back to Teresa. Her cousin's glower had moved from consternation to outrage.

There was movement on the other side of the booth. She was faintly aware of people drawing nearer. She only hoped it was Clark and not the camera crew.

“I told you what would happen if I saw you,” Teresa said, her voice rising. “I told you to stay away.” She looked dangerously close to one of her famous meltdowns.

Lizzy took a deep breath, forcing her hands to unclench. “I have proof that you poisoned my food that night. If you start yelling, I'll show it to everybody who comes over to see what you're yelling about.” She managed to keep her voice level, although she could feel her fingers trembling.

Teresa paused, eyes narrowing. “What?”

“They were filming in the kitchen that night,” Lizzy said quickly. “I've got the video.”
If I'm going to lie, might as well go big.
Besides, Dick might be able to get the actual video along with the stills.

Teresa was back to consternation again. “What are you talking about? That night? You mean at my party? Of course, they were filming. That was the whole point.”

“They were filming everywhere in your house. Including the kitchen—while we were getting the food ready.”
Please God, let that be the truth.
All she had were a couple of fuzzy photos to show for it.

“Terry, we should go. They're already heading back to the door.” Amber gave Lizzy an annoyed look, tugging at Teresa's arm. “You can talk about this later.”

“No.” Teresa narrowed her eyes, her voice rising again, although not quite as loud as it had been before. “I want to talk about it now. You've got video? Go ahead, show me.”

Clark stepped beside her. “Not here. Let's keep this private. There's a room we can use at the back.”

Lizzy stared at him. He stared back at her. His face looked closed, as if he were keeping his thoughts very carefully cloaked. If she was looking for reassurance, she wasn't going to get it from him right now. On the other hand, getting Teresa out of the middle of the room had to be the top priority at the moment. For both of them.

She grabbed her tote bag, turning quickly to Desi. “Give out what's left of the food—there's not much. When it's gone, you can close down and start loading everything back in the van.” She handed him the keys.

Desi's eyes were the size of quarters. “Um…okay. Will you be back?”

She shrugged. “Hope so.”
Really, really hope so.

*****

It turned out they had an entourage as they worked their way across the ballroom toward the small meeting room on the far side. Clark had talked the hotel manager into reserving it by telling him they'd use it to keep any explosions strictly private. From the hotel's point of view, that would be a definite plus. They were a lot less eager for a televised screaming match than the production company was.

Several of the Salt Box locals seemed to be keeping an eye out, making sure they had a clear path to the room without drawing a lot of attention from the tourists. Clark glanced at Nona, who gave him a quick smile.
Good to have connections around here.

Lizzy had a go-for-broke look that made his jaw ache. Clearly, she was ready to push her cousin over the edge if that's what it took to get free of her. But if she succeeded in goading Teresa into a hissy fit that became public, he knew Lizzy would make good on her promise to move on from Salt Box. She'd have some great, noble explanation for doing it, but she'd do it regardless.

He wasn't going to let that happen. Whatever else went on, he couldn't let her go.

He glanced back at the group of people at his heels—Lizzy, her cousin, her cousin's friend who looked like a high-end hooker or a high-end hooker's stylist, Dick, Nona, and Ronnie. He didn't see Ted or Desi, which meant somebody was staying back at the booths to run the damn Gala. He also didn't see any cameras, which he definitely considered a plus. Apparently, the other
Lovely Ladies
and their film crew were being decoyed off in another direction. More help from the citizens of Salt Box no doubt.

He pushed open the door of the room, flicking on the fluorescent lights above the somewhat Spartan conference table and chairs. If this meeting counted as a conference, the participants were definitely on the unconventional side.

Dick and Nona dropped into chairs, keeping a somewhat wary eye on Lizzy and her cousin. The cousin's friend seemed to be suddenly fascinated by the big-screen television at the side of the room.

“All right,” Teresa snarled, “what's all this crap about me poisoning your food? That's bullshit and you know it. It was my party that got ruined, goddamn it!”

Lizzy pulled a couple of printouts from her tote bag, dropping them on the conference table. “Take a look, Teresa. It's from the night of the party—before the party since the food's still in the kitchen. That's not me, and it's not anybody who was on my staff. This woman is clearly messing with my food.”

Teresa narrowed her eyes, staring at the pictures.

Clark stared too. Unfortunately, he couldn't see that much. The figure at the center was obviously a woman, and she was obviously leaning over some food on a kitchen counter, but beyond that it was difficult to say just what she was doing.

“You're crazy.” Teresa's jaw firmed. “You can't tell anything from this picture. She could be stealing an olive for all you know.”

“I didn't serve any olives,” Lizzy said grimly. “And nobody was supposed to be back in that kitchen except for you and me. Are you saying you grabbed a snack before the party started?”

“Here.” Dick reached into his pocket and pulled out a small stand magnifier. “I grabbed this from the car after I showed you the shots. Should make things more clear.”

Lizzy placed the lens over the photo, leaning forward to look more closely, her shoulders tensing. “She's got something in her hand.”

Her cousin pushed her aside, none too gently. “Let me look.” She stared down at the lens, eyes narrowing. “You can't tell what she has.”

“It's no olive.” Lizzy folded her arms across her chest.

Teresa stared through the lens again, longer this time. After a moment, she straightened. “Anyway, it's not me.”

Lizzy raised an eyebrow. “How do you know? She's dressed like you were.”

“She is not,” Teresa snarled. “I had on Dolce and Gabbana. I don't know what this bitch is wearing, but it's not Dolce and Gabbana.”

“Then who is this woman?”

Teresa shook her head. “I don't know. It's too fuzzy. Amber?”

She turned toward her friend, who had apparently just figured out how to work the remote. The television roared to life or something like it—a football game at top volume.

Everyone jumped. Ronnie clapped her hands over her ears. Clark grabbed the remote from the suddenly helpless Amber and turned down the volume.

“What's wrong with you?” Teresa yelled above the din. “This isn't the time to watch TV, for Christ's sake.”

Amber stuck out her overly plumped lower lip. “This doesn't have anything to do with me. I'm bored. I'm going back to the others. They're getting all the screen time while we're stuck in here.” She started toward the door.

“You can't do that,” Ronnie said flatly.

“Why not?” Amber looked genuinely perplexed. “I mean, you can't make me stay if I don't want to.”

“You haven't even looked at the picture. You were there that night too. Here.” Ronnie picked up one of the pictures from the table and handed it to the suddenly reluctant Amber. “Who is it? Do you recognize her?”

She glanced at the picture for a moment, then shrugged. “I don't know. I never saw her before. Now can I go?”

Ronnie shook her head, moving between Amber and the door. “You didn't look at it long enough. Try again.”

Amber's mouth narrowed to a thin line. “I looked long enough.”

Ronnie's forehead furrowed. She picked up the picture again, studying it. Then she put it back on the table. “She looks like you, you know.”

The silence in the room almost seemed to have weight. Teresa stood frozen for a long moment, then she picked up the picture again, staring at it closely. “It does look like you, Amber. What were you wearing at the party anyway?”

“Not whatever that woman's wearing in that picture.” Amber rested her hands on her hips, thinking. “My red Roberto Cavalli. With the black Louboutins.”

Teresa narrowed her eyes. One eyebrow went up. “I don't think so.”

Amber shook her head. “What do you mean, you don't think so? You said you don't remember.”

“I don't,” Teresa said. “Not exactly. Not what you wore. But I wore my red D and G. And if you'd worn your red Cavalli, I would have made you go home and change. And I didn't make you go home and change, so you didn't wear your red Cavalli.” She gave Amber a triumphant look, as if she'd just made a successful argument to the Supreme Court.

Amber waved an impatient hand. “All right, so it wasn't the red Cavalli. I don't remember what I wore. It was a long time ago.”

Teresa ran a finger over the picture. “That's the way you were wearing your hair last year, up on the side. And that looks like your Kendra Scott bracelet.”

Dick leaned forward, picking up one of the pictures, Nona stared over his shoulder, frowning. “I can see the resemblance,” she said. “It does look like you.”

Dick gave Lizzy one of his slow grins. “Yep.”

Amber stared back at him, her arms folded across her chest. “I'm telling you it's not me.”

“Yes it is.” Teresa dropped the picture back on the table, her hands gathering into fists. “It's you. You did this. What did you put in the food, goddamn it? What did you
do
?”

“I didn't…” Amber glanced at the faces around her, maybe looking for doubt somewhere. If so, she didn't find any. After a moment she shrugged, her lower lip trembling slightly. “Ipecac syrup. I got it from my mom's medicine cabinet.”

“Ipecac?” Lizzy's eyes widened in horror. “Ipecac is a poison. You could have killed somebody.”

Amber shook her head, grimacing. “Don't be dumb. It's what they give you when you're a kid to make you vomit. If you eat bleach or something. I mean, my mom had it in her medicine cabinet since we were little. I'm surprised it even worked.”

“It's not used for that any more. Nobody uses it any more, except people with eating disorders.” All of a sudden, Lizzy's jaw looked so tight it might be painful.

Amber blinked, her lips thinning again. “I wouldn't know anything about that.”

“That sort of misses the point, doesn't it?” Dick said mildly. “The real question isn't how you got it. The real question is why did you put ipecac in the food? That's something I'm sure we'd all be interested to hear.”

“Yes, goddamn it. Why did you ruin my party, you stupid twit?” Teresa took a couple of steps in Amber's direction, gathering her hands into fists at her sides.

Clark wondered if he should maybe step between the two women, then decided against it. Let Amber take care of her own problems.

Amber held her ground, her lips twisting. “Because Constance was right, you are fucking boring,” she yelled.

Teresa stared at her, openmouthed. Lizzy looked stunned. Even Dick seemed a little surprised, or as surprised as Dick ever seemed.

“You poisoned the guests because you thought it would be interesting?” Lizzy's voice shook slightly. Her face looked pale.

Clark stepped closer, reaching a hand to the small of her back.

Amber ignored her, her attention fastened on Teresa. “They were going to fire us. They were going to bring in new people. It wasn't just you—it was you and me and Donna because we all hung out together. We were your friends. And they were going to get rid of us all because you are so fucking boring.”

“That's a lie,” Teresa said, but her voice trembled slightly.

“It's the truth, and we all knew it. Except you.” Amber shook her head impatiently, her red hair flying. “You're such a stupid idiot, you didn't even pay any attention to what was going on around you. You didn't even ask. It never occurred to you they'd get rid of us.”

Clark slid his arm around Lizzy's waist and pulled her closer. Her cheek felt cool, almost cold.

Dick shook his head, frowning. “How exactly would putting ipecac in the hors d'oeuvres make her interesting?”

Amber scowled in his direction. “You don't know anything about TV shows, do you?”

Nona's eyes widened. “Why I'll have you know…”

Dick put his hand over hers, shaking his head slightly. “What do you mean?”

Amber took a deep breath. “After the party we were both at the center of everything for at least three episodes. Everybody was talking about it. They had scenes with Teresa and Arnie at their house where she was crying on his shoulder. They had scenes with the two of us where I was comforting her. Our Q Score went up three points. That's what they said on Reality News, anyway.”