Fleeced: A Regan Reilly Mystery by Carol Higgins Clark Page B

wine nice and cold.”
    “Now, now,” Maldwin said. “We don’t ever want to insult anyone. That is not what a true gentleman or lady does. And many things are a matter of taste. But perhaps it was sangria that was your mother’s beverage? Sangria is best served chilled.”
    “All I know is there was fruit in the bowl.”
    Maldwin nodded. “Yes, Vinnie. That would have been sangria. When you are serving fine red wines, they are best served room temperature.”
    Vinnie waved his hand at him. “I’ve got a headache.”
    “Perhaps we could use some quiet time,” Maldwin agreed. And a Rolaid, he thought. “I’ll put in the etiquette tape. But first, does anyone have a helpful hint of the day?”
    “A true gentleman or lady never jangles the change in their pockets,” Harriet blurted.
    “Very good!” Maldwin cried. “Harriet, this all comes to you naturally.”
    She nodded enthusiastically. “It annoys the hell out of people.”
    Maldwin blinked, quickly shoved the cassette into the tape player, and tried to put out of his mind the sense that everything felt doomed.

15

    Regan took a look down the hallway before unlocking the door to Nat’s apartment. Opposite the elevator at the end of the hallway was a steel door. High time to check that out, she thought as she walked down and opened it.
    A small square area of gray metal and cement greeted her. A gray service elevator stood like a fortress a few feet in front of her. On the wall to her right was a metal door, on the wall to her left was a metal door, and just next to it was a staircase that went down. The air smelled dank. Two garbage cans for paper and plastic recyclables were positioned next to the elevator.
    It didn’t take long for Regan to realize that the two doors were the service entrances to Nat’s and Lydia ’s apartments. She had seen Nat’s from the inside when Clara gave her a quick tour of his apartment.
    So if anyone wanted to sneak into Nat’s apartment without being seen, this would be the better choice, Regan thought. Could someone have had a key?
    Regan inserted the key she was holding in Nat’s back door. To her astonishment, it worked. The same key for the front and back doors? she thought. That’s unusual. She pushed the door open, stepped inside, and found herself in the little hallway just off the back of the kitchen. She locked the door. The apartment was still, except for the humming of the refrigerator.
    Regan sighed. The kitchen was narrow and long, with cream-colored cabinets and appliances. Some of the cabinet doors were inlaid with glass, through which old-fashioned cups, saucers, and plates could be seen neatly stacked in rows. The room itself was old-fashioned and cozy, but seemed isolated from the rest of the apartment. It must hark back to the days when people who had these apartments didn’t spend much time in the kitchen. But their help did.
    There was no table in the room. The only concession to modern-day eat-in-the-kitchen living was two stools at the countertop opposite the sink. A swinging door opened onto another little foyer just off the dining room, and a swinging door at the other end led to the hallway down to the bedrooms and the living room.
    Did Nat spend much time in here? Regan wondered. Was he futzing around the kitchen yesterday at this time? It certainly looked neat and clean. Clara said she had cleaned the apartment on Tuesday. Today was Friday.
    What about Nat’s dinner last night? Regan wondered. She opened the cabinet under the sink and pulled out the lined plastic garbage can. Coffee grounds, orange peels, cookie wrappers, and a paper plate were right on top. Regan lifted the paper plate and underneath it were several pigs in blankets.
    Hors d’oeuvres.
    What you’d serve at a party.
    Not something you’d prepare for just yourself.
    Oh God, Regan thought. I must remember to check out the menu at Lydia ’s get-together this evening. She rifled through the rest of the garbage and found