Read Online Murder Makes a Pilgrimage by Carol Anne O'Marie - Free Book Online
Authors: Carol Anne O'Marie
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undoubtedly the understatement of the trip.
“Did you get a chance to see it yet, Doc?”
Neil Fong blinked as if he were trying to remember, then flashed a look toward his wife, who was totally ignoring him.
You either saw it or you didn’t, Mary Helen thought impatiently. So what is all that blinking about? She adjusted her glasses and focused on Dr. Fong’s face, which to her surprise had drained of color. Neil was spared by Bud Bowman’s low whistle.
“Speaking of ganders, get a gander at what’s coming,” he said.
Mary Helen turned to watch Pepe glide into the
salón
. Lisa Springer clung to his right arm. She was ablaze in a raspberry lamé chemise which did outstanding things to her flaming hair. On his left arm was Heidi, again looking, Mary Helen thought sadly, very much like a butterscotch drop.
Smoothly detaching himself from both women, Pepe moved about the room, slapping backs and kissing hands. Mary Helen was thankful that she held her wine in one hand and her pocketbook in the other. Furthermore, she had no intention of doing any juggling.
Pepe took in the room. “Aha! I see we are all here.
Bueno! Bueno
!”
All but María José. Mary Helen wondered where she was. Before she could ask, the tiny woman, strikingly glamorous in a strapless gown of black velvet and silver lace, slid in through a side door. Her dark hair was pulled back from her face and held in place by an ornate comb. Even from across the room, Mary Helen saw that her eyes were blazing. She could almost feel the heat emanating from the small, angry body.
Like a polished host, Pepe ushered each guest to a seat at the round banquet table. Cleverly he placed himself between Lisa and Heidi with María José directly across from him, as far away as one could get at a round table.
Tapping a crystal goblet, he called upon Sister Eileen to pronounce a blessing. Mary Helen held her breath. She need not have worried. Eileen’s prayer was short, sweet, and, much to Mary Helen’s relief, considerably duller than the one that she had threatened.
Once they were seated, the waiters immediately began to serve oysters on large half shells. Conversation bubbled like the white wine that the steward poured into the glasses.
Pepe, avoiding María José’s eyes, raised his glass and toasted the health of the group. Not to be outdone, Bud Bowman toasted Pepe. Cora looked so pleased that her husband toasted María José as well.
Directly across the table from Mary Helen the De-Angelos sat tight-lipped, the way people do when they’ve hadwords. Creases like small spokes formed around Bootsie’s set mouth.
Perhaps they’re tired. Mary Helen gave them the benefit of the doubt and speared an oyster. She might have believed it, too, if Bootsie, with a swish of her long dark hair, hadn’t deliberately turned her back on her husband and focused her frosty blue eyes on Cora, who sat to her left. “You look lovely in green,” Bootsie said loudly.
Startled by the unexpected attention, Cora sputtered but not for long. Within seconds the two women had lowered their voices and were carrying on an animated conversation. They were so absorbed, in fact, that they hardly seemed to notice that the waiter served a delicious plate of what looked to Mary Helen like potatoes and peppers mixed with giant sardines. Nor did they pay much attention to the wine steward refilling their glasses.
Sister Mary Helen wished that she could hear what they were saying. To be honest, she wished that she could hear what anyone was saying. As is sometimes the way with round tables, everyone was talking to someone, but no one was talking to her.
To her right, Sister Eileen and Dr. Fong were engrossed. Whatever the topic, Eileen carried most of the conversation. To the right of her husband, Rita Fong was giving María José and Bud Bowman a lesson in reducing muscle stress. Or at least it appeared that way from the places she was pointing out on her neck and shoulders. From the
“Did you get a chance to see it yet, Doc?”
Neil Fong blinked as if he were trying to remember, then flashed a look toward his wife, who was totally ignoring him.
You either saw it or you didn’t, Mary Helen thought impatiently. So what is all that blinking about? She adjusted her glasses and focused on Dr. Fong’s face, which to her surprise had drained of color. Neil was spared by Bud Bowman’s low whistle.
“Speaking of ganders, get a gander at what’s coming,” he said.
Mary Helen turned to watch Pepe glide into the
salón
. Lisa Springer clung to his right arm. She was ablaze in a raspberry lamé chemise which did outstanding things to her flaming hair. On his left arm was Heidi, again looking, Mary Helen thought sadly, very much like a butterscotch drop.
Smoothly detaching himself from both women, Pepe moved about the room, slapping backs and kissing hands. Mary Helen was thankful that she held her wine in one hand and her pocketbook in the other. Furthermore, she had no intention of doing any juggling.
Pepe took in the room. “Aha! I see we are all here.
Bueno! Bueno
!”
All but María José. Mary Helen wondered where she was. Before she could ask, the tiny woman, strikingly glamorous in a strapless gown of black velvet and silver lace, slid in through a side door. Her dark hair was pulled back from her face and held in place by an ornate comb. Even from across the room, Mary Helen saw that her eyes were blazing. She could almost feel the heat emanating from the small, angry body.
Like a polished host, Pepe ushered each guest to a seat at the round banquet table. Cleverly he placed himself between Lisa and Heidi with María José directly across from him, as far away as one could get at a round table.
Tapping a crystal goblet, he called upon Sister Eileen to pronounce a blessing. Mary Helen held her breath. She need not have worried. Eileen’s prayer was short, sweet, and, much to Mary Helen’s relief, considerably duller than the one that she had threatened.
Once they were seated, the waiters immediately began to serve oysters on large half shells. Conversation bubbled like the white wine that the steward poured into the glasses.
Pepe, avoiding María José’s eyes, raised his glass and toasted the health of the group. Not to be outdone, Bud Bowman toasted Pepe. Cora looked so pleased that her husband toasted María José as well.
Directly across the table from Mary Helen the De-Angelos sat tight-lipped, the way people do when they’ve hadwords. Creases like small spokes formed around Bootsie’s set mouth.
Perhaps they’re tired. Mary Helen gave them the benefit of the doubt and speared an oyster. She might have believed it, too, if Bootsie, with a swish of her long dark hair, hadn’t deliberately turned her back on her husband and focused her frosty blue eyes on Cora, who sat to her left. “You look lovely in green,” Bootsie said loudly.
Startled by the unexpected attention, Cora sputtered but not for long. Within seconds the two women had lowered their voices and were carrying on an animated conversation. They were so absorbed, in fact, that they hardly seemed to notice that the waiter served a delicious plate of what looked to Mary Helen like potatoes and peppers mixed with giant sardines. Nor did they pay much attention to the wine steward refilling their glasses.
Sister Mary Helen wished that she could hear what they were saying. To be honest, she wished that she could hear what anyone was saying. As is sometimes the way with round tables, everyone was talking to someone, but no one was talking to her.
To her right, Sister Eileen and Dr. Fong were engrossed. Whatever the topic, Eileen carried most of the conversation. To the right of her husband, Rita Fong was giving María José and Bud Bowman a lesson in reducing muscle stress. Or at least it appeared that way from the places she was pointing out on her neck and shoulders. From the
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