A Fine Line Read online

  Ben took a sip from a glass of water at the podium, then looked around and shook his head. “When it’s over, Luke is a broken man until another door opens into his life. I am hoping you’ll be uplifted by the ending because I’m sorry to say that this is the end of the road for the Luke Hammer series.”

  Cries and shouts of dissent emerged from the audience.

  No, I thought. This can’t be the last book. Luke Hammer had been part of my life for so many years, I couldn’t imagine his absence.

  “Yes,” Ben said, as if he’d heard my thoughts. “This is it—for Luke Hammer.” He paused and then smiled. “But it’s just the beginning of my new series and a new hero, Oliver Gum.”

  Oliver Gum? I thought. What kind of name was that for Ben’s new protagonist?

  “Oliver is everything that Luke is not. He’s an unassuming, unexpected hero. He’s a natural bungler, but in his heart, he knows the right thing to do, and somehow, he figures it out. I think you’re going to love him.”

  Silence blanketed the audience as we considered Ben’s words.

  I thought I might like this new character, someone like me who wasn’t perfect, made mistakes, but had a good heart. Well, I was willing to try to like him. Ben was getting older and so was Luke, both a little worn around the edges and ready for something different, something less strenuous. A character less physical and more cerebral in solving crimes. I was sorry to say goodbye to Luke, but hey, Ben was a good writer. Bring on this new series.

  “I’m now going to read an excerpt from Hammer’s End. Don’t worry. I won’t give away any spoilers.”

  Ben put a copy of his book on the podium and opened it. From the breast pocket of his jacket, he extracted a pair of reading glasses and perched them on his nose. Then he began to read.

  The room was so quiet you could hear an egg boiling as Ben poured out Luke’s despair and unspeakable loss.

  Luke slumped into the sagging recliner and sat immobile. When had he become old and ineffectual? For the first time in his life, as if weighted down by an anvil, Luke felt powerless. In fact, he was powerless. A complete failure to save the one person in his life who meant the most to him. He bent his head to his knees, covered his face with his hands, and let the tears fall….

  Ben continued to read for the next ten minutes, and even without knowing the details of who Luke had lost, or how, I felt his pain pierce my heart.

  Ben closed the book and looked up, removed his glasses and replaced them in his pocket.

  I realized my mouth was open and my cheeks wet. In fact, there wasn’t a dry eye in the room. I glanced at Ally, who was also crying even though she didn’t know anything about Luke Hammer.

  Ben was good.

  Someone stood and began to clap. Others followed suit until the applause, shouts and whistles reached a crescendo.

  Ben gave a polite bow to the audience and said, “Thank you,” then stepped back as Gwendolyn joined him at the podium.

  She ran the back of her hand over her forehead. “Whew. After hearing that excerpt from the book, I feel like I’ve just run a marathon. Now Ben will take questions from the audience.”

  As hands shot up, I felt a tap on my shoulder and jumped.

  “Trudie, it’s time to serve the desserts,” Gordon whispered.

  “Oh, you’re right.” I spun around, but I needn’t have worried. In the kitchen, the wait staff were already loading their trays with plum tarts and heading out the door to serve the dinner guests. I wanted to listen to the Q&A part of the program, but I had a job to do. Anyway, I had heard Ben speak, and he didn’t disappoint.

  “Looks like you and Gordon have everything under control,” I said to Zach when I re-entered the kitchen.

  “He’s a keeper,” Zach said. “Maybe in about six months or so we’ll be able to hire him on. Speaking of extra hands, where’s Ally?”

  “She’s still out there listening to Ben Knight. It’s okay. We’ve got this.” It was true. Under Zach’s watchful eyes and Gordon’s direction, our staff was pretty efficient.

  As I pitched in with the cleanup, I kept looking around to see if Ally had returned to the kitchen. I opened the door to the dining room, but she was nowhere in sight. Ben had finished speaking and guests were lining up for their books. So, where was she? I had a bad feeling about her absence. I knew Ally was waiting for the opportunity to speak to Ben and worried where that would lead. I untied my apron and pulled it over my head. “Heading to the restroom,” I told Zach. “Back in a few.”

  I exited the side door of the kitchen and, as I headed down the hallway, I heard voices. Loud voices. I peeked around the corner to see who it was.

  Ally and Ben stood face to face. She had her hands on her hips. “You don’t remember my name?” she hissed. “After all the nights we spent together?”

  I took a step back. All the nights? I thought it had only been a one-night stand. Ally had never mentioned seeing him after that.

  “Look, doll. You’re definitely a stunner, and I’m sure those nights were incredible.” He picked a piece of lint from the sleeve of his jacket. “But it’s been, what did you say, ten years? Do you know how many bookstore appearances I’ve done since then? How many women who’ve had their own private book signings?” He turned toward the restroom.

  Ally grabbed his elbow. “Don’t call me ‘doll.’ You know, Ben, you think you’re a gift to women. Some kind of god.” She jabbed a manicured finger into his chest. “Well, I can totally understand why your ex-wife dumped you like the can of garbage that you are.”

  Feeling the presence of someone beside me, I turned to find Myra Keating, the writers’ association president, also peering around the corner to watch the heated exchange. I flushed at the thought of Myra observing my eavesdropping.

  She returned my glance, then we both turned back to the drama unfolding in the hallway.

  Ben’s voice quieted. “Listen. Ellen, did you say your name was?”

  “Ally,” she said through gritted teeth. “It’s Ally.”

  “Ally. I’m sorry I disappointed you then--and now. I spend most of my time alone in a room writing books on my computer. The rest of the time I’m traveling on book tours or teaching at writers’ workshops or speaking at conferences like this. So, if I meet an attractive woman like you on the road, I’m going to take advantage of it. Everyone needs human contact, and that’s what it is for me.” He held out his hands, palms upward. “That’s the reality.”

  “Reality?” Ally’s voice hovered on the edge of a scream. “You know what your reality is? It’s the collateral damage you’ve left behind with every woman you screwed. Multiply what you did to me by—how many women? Over the years, it must have been hundreds. You’ve probably slept with half the women at this dinner, including that giggling Gwendolyn woman. Right?” Ally crossed her arms, waiting for his answer.

  Ben stood silent, not answering. His Adam’s apple moved up, then down as he swallowed hard.

  “You did sleep with her. I can see it in your face. She risked her marriage for a womanizer like you? Someone needs to hammer some sense into that woman. She obviously still has a thing for you.”

  “Listen, Ellen. I’m not going to defend myself or Gwen. That’s my life; take it or leave it. Now I need to take a leak so I can get back to signing books for my fans. Is that okay with you?” He shook his head and headed for the men’s room.

  Ally, her hands curled into tight fists, whirled away from him and stormed off down the hall to the dining room.

  Myra and I backed up into a recessed classroom entrance to conceal ourselves from view.

  “Well,” Myra said with raised eyebrows. “A little behind-the-scenes entertainment, I suppose.”

  I didn’t think I would describe this angry display as entertainment and certainly wasn’t happy that Myra was viewing it along with me. I almost apologized for Ally’s outburst toward the guest speaker but then realized that Myra didn’t know she was part of my kitchen staff. She could easily have b
een a guest at this function.

  Much more disturbing was Ally’s comment about “all the nights we spent together.” Something she had neglected to tell me then and now. Obviously, her desire to see Ben tonight was a lot more significant than she’d led me to believe. Talk about stinking fish.

  “By the way,” Myra said, interrupting my thoughts. “The dinner was superb. I heard wonderful remarks about the food.”

  “Thank you. I think the whole evening went well.”

  Myra pursed her lips as if she’d just sucked on a lemon. “Humph. Not the way Gwen steamrolled the evening. I’m the president of the Mystery Writers’ Association. I should have been the one at the podium introducing the speaker. But no. She even opened up the event to her fan club first, preventing so many others from attending this dinner because of space limitations. Then that kewpie doll stuffed herself into that outrageous red dress and took over the entire program. And all that talk about running off with Ben Knight. Disgraceful.”

  “I-I’m sorry,” I said, not exactly sure what the right thing was to say.

  “Well I’m sorry, too.”

  The first time I’d met Myra Keating at my office, with her mousey-brown hair and understated makeup, she’d been overshadowed by the dynamic Miss Peacock, Belinda Scott. Tonight, seeing her up close again, I could detect an attractive woman who for some reason chose not to accentuate those features.

  Myra glanced in both directions down the hallway. “Guess I made the wrong turn. I’ve got to get back to the dinner. It’s that way, I think.” She headed in the same direction that Ally had taken.

  I rounded the corner to the ladies’ room. Inside, washing her hands, was the girl who’d caught Gordon’s attention. Her face lit up when she saw me.

  “Hi, Ms. Fine. I’m Samantha. Actually, everyone calls me Sam. Remember me?”

  “Yes, I recognize you. Please, call me Trudie.”

  “Let me say that I’ve been working with the staffing agency for a few months, and your food style and plating are the best I’ve seen. Really tasty, too. Gordon let us sample the food so we could describe it if any of the guests asked questions.”

  “Well, thank you, Sam. That was a good move on Gordon’s part. He’s impressed me with his talents. What do you think of his supervising abilities?”

  “Gordon? He’s great. Not bossy like some can be. He makes you feel like you’re working on a team.”

  “That’s good to hear.” Maybe Gordon had a chance with her after all, I thought.

  Sam rummaged through her purse and pulled out her lip gloss as I entered a stall. When I came out, she had removed the band from her ponytail, revealing a halo of ringlets that framed her face.

  Several loud thudding noises emerged from the hall and we both turned toward the sound, then looked at each other. “What was that?” Sam asked.

  I shrugged and turned on the water in the sink. “Maybe they’re doing some repair work in the building.”

  “Maybe. Well, hope to see you again, Trudie. I’d love to work another of your events.”

  “Great. I’ll remember to ask for you.” I thought Gordon would like to see her again, too.

  Sam hunted through her bag again and pulled out a pen and a small spiral notebook. “Here’s my name, number and email address. I’m only with the agency for another couple months. Then I’m starting a job as an au pair for the summer. But if I’m available, I’d really like to work with you again.” She tore out the page and handed it to me.

  “That’s great to know,” I said, slipping it into my apron pocket. “Nice to meet you, Sam.”

  “You too, Trudie.” She grabbed her purse and headed out the door.

  I was drying my hands when I heard the ear-piercing scream.

  I flung the bathroom door open.

  Sam’s hands covered her face. Somebody lay on the floor in front of her. A bright red stream of blood slithered toward her.

  I eased closer to Sam and peered down at the lump on the floor.

  The woman’s face was unrecognizable, bashed in by the bloody hammer lying nearby. I gasped and turned away from the gruesome sight. Every nerve on my skin prickled as if standing on edge, and I swallowed back the bile that rose to my throat.

  Sam was whimpering, her shoulders heaving, and she stood frozen in her spot. I put my arm around her and turned her toward me, peering over her shoulder for another glimpse at the horror before us. I forced myself to look away from the woman’s battered face, ran my eyes along the rest of her body and inhaled sharply.

  I knew who she was.

  Long dark tresses wound around her body like serpents, partially concealing the tight red dress. Others spread out, pointing accusingly in several directions. Gwendolyn Chong.

  A commotion of thundering footsteps grabbed my attention as a group of people headed our way. Shrieks and shouts echoed in the corridor as they realized what they were seeing.

  I looked up into the faces of the crowd.

  Who could have committed such a brutal murder?

  And why?

  Chapter Two

  The rest of the evening could only be described as controlled chaos. Police streamed into the building, blocked off all the exits, and herded everyone into the ballroom. Most attendees returned to their original seats at the tables, but some, like my staff, found corners where they could congregate or extra chairs on which to perch.

  Gordon had stepped up to his supervisory position, calmed the staff, and now stood in a nook with a protective arm around Sam’s shoulder. She leaned against him, crying softly, her arms around his waist. Gordon had been through this before. After the art gallery event last November, where he’d been the one to discover the body, he knew exactly how Sam was feeling.

  Zach sat in a chair with Ally on his lap, her head buried in his shoulder. He ran his hand up and down her back. The gesture made me yearn for Daniel and his calming touch.

  With that thought, my fiancé, Detective Daniel Goldman entered the room. He walked toward me with determined steps, followed by his partner, Detective Will Billings.

  “Trudie,” Daniel said, taking me into his arms. “Are you okay?”

  I peered up into his amber eyes. “I am now that you’re here.” I leaned into him, my cheek pressed against his navy blazer. I closed my eyes and inhaled his musky scent, providing me with a sense of calm. I’d been in situations like this before, but I was never going to get used to it.

  Daniel gently lifted my chin. From the intensity in his eyes, I knew he wanted to kiss me. Badly. But he was the lead detective here to investigate a brutal murder. No kissing allowed.

  “Hi, Trudie,” Will said. As always, his clothes were crisply pressed, the collar stiff, shoes gleaming.

  I smiled, appreciating his attention to detail. I knew he would treat the investigation tonight with unfailing professionalism.

  “Hi, Will.” Out of habit, I reached out for a quick hug, but he took an awkward step back and reddened, looking around to see if anyone was watching.

  Daniel shot us a faint grin then scanned the room full of people. “Be patient,” he said under his breath. “This is going to take quite some time.”

  I nodded and found an empty chair against the wall.

  “Okay, everyone,” he announced. “I’m Detective Goldman and this is Detective Billings. We’re going to distribute index cards to everyone. Please provide your name, address, phone number, and email address where you can be contacted. One of our officers will come around to collect them. When your name is called, you’ll be escorted to a classroom for questioning. We’ll try to be as expeditious as possible, but we need your help to solve this poor woman’s murder.”

  From the front of the room emerged a deep, guttural cry. As Gwendolyn’s husband emitted loud, wracking sobs, Ben Knight rose from his seat and knelt beside him. Murmuring softly, he put his hand on the man’s shoulder, a pitiful gesture that seemed too insignificant to provide any comfort to the grieving husband. Most likely, he had only met t
he man this evening for the first time. The man lifted his head and swatted Ben’s arm away. I supposed he didn’t want comfort or sympathy.

  Unless…I thought. The hair on my arms stood on end, and my scalp prickled. Unless her husband had discovered Gwendolyn’s affair with Ben and murdered his wife for her unfaithfulness.

  His sobs continued, even louder. Daniel signaled to an officer, who escorted the man out of the room, most likely to a place where he could have some privacy to grieve and be questioned while the crime was fresh. Of course, the husband was a suspect. The first person cops investigated after a murder. The person closest to the victim. Everyone knew that from crime shows on TV, but this was reality. I’d also lived with a detective long enough to understand their thinking.

  The cards were distributed, and I watched as heads bent in concentration to fill them out. A dull murmur pervaded the room, quiet conversations and muted outbursts of shock and sorrow.

  Besides Gwendolyn’s husband, I thought, who had a motive and opportunity to murder her? I scanned the front table. There was Ben, who certainly had the opportunity. He’d been in the men’s room and could have easily encountered her when he came out. But why would he murder her? He didn’t deny that he’d slept with her, but as Ally had mentioned, he’d probably slept with several women in the room. Was she trying to blackmail him? Not likely. Even if he was carrying on with her, he was divorced and didn’t have to worry about a wife finding out. He also had a loyal fan base that wouldn’t easily turn against him.

  Why was Gwendolyn Chong in the hallway anyway? Was she headed to the ladies’ room? A natural assumption. Or, like Ally, was she attempting to speak with Ben?

  Belinda Scott must have felt a responsibility as the conference chair to console attendees. After turning in her index card, she moved from table to table to engage the guests. With her large silver blonde coif, she was easy to spot. I noticed how, with each encounter, she had a habit of fingering her peacock brooch. Maybe an unconscious, or conscious way of bringing attention to her book series. But was she a murderer? I didn’t know her relationship with Gwendolyn, but I would think Belinda’s focus would be on chairing a successful conference.