Danny was a senior in high school. A running back on the football team. Popular. A girl magnet.”
“What happened?”
“Beats me.”
The ball guests, band members, catering workers, and event staff were gathered into a corner of the upper garden, where the police were interviewing them. Paige Tate, Evelyn Tate’s daughter-in-law, had picked up the hostess gauntlet and was extracting as much as she could of the prepaid goods and services.
The caterers had straightened toppled chairs and tables and put out the food that had been already prepared. The police objected to alcohol being served while they were conducting their investigation. Paige Tate had ceded that issue and served soft drinks.
“Sounds like Danny might have been high,” Rodriguez said. “Guests saw him acting weird, talking to himself, being confrontational.”
Auburn said, “People are also saying that Rory was acting strangely even before Danny got up on stage. Having trouble getting through her speech. Closing her eyes. Her fiancé said she was nervous and might have had a little too much champagne. Wonder if she had an encounter earlier with Danny that rattled her.”
The detectives watched as two EMTs pulled up the gurney, extending its accordion legs. They rolled Danny’s body across the lawn.
Auburn turned toward the villa’s western wing. Lights blazed through the French doors of a ground-floor corner room. “Time to talk to Ratsy and Richie.”
“Who?”
“You work in Pasadena and you don’t know Ratsy and Richie? That’s what people call the Richard Alvin Tates three and four. I hear there’s a five too.
“What was it some writer said? The rich are different from the rest of us.”
Auburn threw the toothpick into a flower bed. “Yeah. They have more money.”
16
“Tom. Thank God.” Evelyn saw him through the glass wall of the ICU room and went to hug him when he entered. He was still wearing his tuxedo.
“Got here as soon as I could.” He looked at the empty area surrounded by electronic devices where the bed would be rolled in. “Where is she?”
“They’re still running tests.”
“Have you heard anything?”
Her hands began trembling in Tom’s grasp. It reminded him of when he had found Rory in the library earlier that evening.
Something’s going to happen.
“Dr. Reece Gaspar, our family doctor and an old friend, examined Rory. He said that she bumped her head pretty badly and has a concussion. Fortunately she doesn’t have any other serious injuries. But he said…” Evelyn struggled to get out the words. “He said that Rory’s in a light coma.”
The words sent a chill down Tom’s spine.
“A neurologist will assess how badly her brain is injured.” Evelyn sobbed into her wad of tissues.
“Let’s stay calm. We don’t have all the facts yet.” He was giving the message to himself as much as to Evelyn.
“You’re right. Think positive. You’re my rock, Tom. I’m glad you’re here. Graehme went to make a statement.” She twisted the tissues. “This waiting is getting to me.”
Tom recalled Rory’s words. It’s the doves … They’re like a bad omen.
Evelyn dug inside her purse and took out a compact. “I must look a fright.” She scrutinized her image and snapped the compact closed with a groan without making any repairs.
“Evelyn, this evening did Rory seem…off to you?”
“She was tired and her color could have been better. She always pushes herself to the edge. I worry about her. What do you mean ‘off’?”
Tom recalled what Rory had said on stage: Danny. So, it’s you. It was as if the bad omen she’d sensed had been realized.
“Did she talk to you about seeing doves?”
“Doves? We’d talked about releasing a flock of doves at the end of the moment of silence.”
“It’s nothing. She was stressed, as you said.”
“She’s been under tremendous pressure, launching the Anya fragrance and the ad campaign. Then there’s Richie with his
“What happened?”
“Beats me.”
The ball guests, band members, catering workers, and event staff were gathered into a corner of the upper garden, where the police were interviewing them. Paige Tate, Evelyn Tate’s daughter-in-law, had picked up the hostess gauntlet and was extracting as much as she could of the prepaid goods and services.
The caterers had straightened toppled chairs and tables and put out the food that had been already prepared. The police objected to alcohol being served while they were conducting their investigation. Paige Tate had ceded that issue and served soft drinks.
“Sounds like Danny might have been high,” Rodriguez said. “Guests saw him acting weird, talking to himself, being confrontational.”
Auburn said, “People are also saying that Rory was acting strangely even before Danny got up on stage. Having trouble getting through her speech. Closing her eyes. Her fiancé said she was nervous and might have had a little too much champagne. Wonder if she had an encounter earlier with Danny that rattled her.”
The detectives watched as two EMTs pulled up the gurney, extending its accordion legs. They rolled Danny’s body across the lawn.
Auburn turned toward the villa’s western wing. Lights blazed through the French doors of a ground-floor corner room. “Time to talk to Ratsy and Richie.”
“Who?”
“You work in Pasadena and you don’t know Ratsy and Richie? That’s what people call the Richard Alvin Tates three and four. I hear there’s a five too.
“What was it some writer said? The rich are different from the rest of us.”
Auburn threw the toothpick into a flower bed. “Yeah. They have more money.”
16
“Tom. Thank God.” Evelyn saw him through the glass wall of the ICU room and went to hug him when he entered. He was still wearing his tuxedo.
“Got here as soon as I could.” He looked at the empty area surrounded by electronic devices where the bed would be rolled in. “Where is she?”
“They’re still running tests.”
“Have you heard anything?”
Her hands began trembling in Tom’s grasp. It reminded him of when he had found Rory in the library earlier that evening.
Something’s going to happen.
“Dr. Reece Gaspar, our family doctor and an old friend, examined Rory. He said that she bumped her head pretty badly and has a concussion. Fortunately she doesn’t have any other serious injuries. But he said…” Evelyn struggled to get out the words. “He said that Rory’s in a light coma.”
The words sent a chill down Tom’s spine.
“A neurologist will assess how badly her brain is injured.” Evelyn sobbed into her wad of tissues.
“Let’s stay calm. We don’t have all the facts yet.” He was giving the message to himself as much as to Evelyn.
“You’re right. Think positive. You’re my rock, Tom. I’m glad you’re here. Graehme went to make a statement.” She twisted the tissues. “This waiting is getting to me.”
Tom recalled Rory’s words. It’s the doves … They’re like a bad omen.
Evelyn dug inside her purse and took out a compact. “I must look a fright.” She scrutinized her image and snapped the compact closed with a groan without making any repairs.
“Evelyn, this evening did Rory seem…off to you?”
“She was tired and her color could have been better. She always pushes herself to the edge. I worry about her. What do you mean ‘off’?”
Tom recalled what Rory had said on stage: Danny. So, it’s you. It was as if the bad omen she’d sensed had been realized.
“Did she talk to you about seeing doves?”
“Doves? We’d talked about releasing a flock of doves at the end of the moment of silence.”
“It’s nothing. She was stressed, as you said.”
“She’s been under tremendous pressure, launching the Anya fragrance and the ad campaign. Then there’s Richie with his
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