Vengeance is Mine - A Benjamin Tucker Mystery (22 page)

“I want to take the Bentley tonight,” she said.

“Of course,” I replied. “We wouldn’t want to be seen in my cheap car.”

I pulled my tuxedo out of the closet and laid it across the bed. Maggie came out of her closet holding a full-length, white silk crepe strapless gown.

“Do you remember this?” she asked.

“Absolutely,” I said. “Eight hundred and seventy-five dollars in the eveningwear section at Marshak’s.”

She narrowed her eyes.

“Sorry, just joking. Of course I remember it. It’s the dress you were wearing the night we met. I could never forget it.” I walked over, put my arms around her, and kissed her.

“Good save, Ben. But you’re wrong. It cost nineteen hundred dollars.”

I shivered.

“I’m glad you’re wearing it again tonight,” I said.

“Oh, I’m not wearing this. You can’t wear the same dress to the same event more than once.”

“Silly me,” I said. “I should have bought a new tux … one that was a different shade of black.”

“It’s not the same for men,” she replied.

She held the dress up in front of her as she looked at herself in the full-length mirror. She looked at me from the mirror. “You don’t want to know what mother paid for hers.”

“Gads,” I said. “Speaking of Nora, she’s been playing the ponies again.” I went to my closet and got the brown paper sack and handed it to Maggie. She opened it, looked inside, and turned to me astonished.

“Eighty-seven thousand dollars,” I said. “Henry’s Lady paid eight-to-one.”

She just stood there looking at me. Finally, she laughed and shook her head. “What am I going to do with her?” she asked.

I put my arms around Maggie. “Love her,” I said. “For as long as you still have her.”

“My sweet Ben. I’m afraid you’ve married into a family of kooks.”

I watched as she returned the white gown to her closet.

Maggie and I met at last year’s fundraiser. She had organized and hosted the event, just as she had the four years before that. It was a year after my divorce, and I was completing the final editing of my manuscript for
Deception
. I had no full-time job, so I worked odd jobs to pay the bills. I had taken a part-time job with Carletti Event Services in Raleigh, and we were contracted to cater the museum fundraiser event.

The entire catering staff wore tuxedos, even the women. The men wore blue bow ties and the women wore red ones. My job was to pour wine and arrange the filled glasses on silver trays. The trays would be carried among the guests and served by one of the red ties.

When Maggie walked into the room, the Earth stood still. She was stunning—breathtaking. Her fitted white gown had a twist at the sweetheart neckline and draped elegantly to the floor. Her short black hair and beautiful olive-toned skin were accentuated by the color of the gown. I had no idea who she was, why she was there, or if she was married. I didn’t care.

I grabbed one of the silver trays, wiped it off, and placed one glass of champagne on it. I then walked toward her, carrying the tray.

My partner Leonard shouted, “Tucker! Where the hell are you going? You pour. You don’t serve!” I ignored him.

I slowly worked my way through the crowd, never taking my eyes off Maggie. A man tried to take the glass, but I moved the tray so he couldn’t get it. When I reached her, I lowered the tray in front of her. She took the glass but didn’t look at me.

“I’ve had some complaints about you,” I said to her.

She slowly turned and looked at me, astonished at my brazenness. “Oh, really?” she said with chilled amusement. “How so?”

I slowly swept my finger in front of me. “All of these people have paid good money to be here tonight and look at the amazing artwork. And every time you smile, I have to dim the lights to maintain the ambience.”

“Really?” she said, annoyed.

“It’s a fact,” I replied.

“So tell me, Mr—”

“Tucker, Benjamin Tucker. My friends call me Ben.” I extended my hand, and she shook it, hesitantly. “And you are?”

“Margaret Marshak,” She said. “My friends call me Maggie. You may call me Ms. Marshak.”

“Oooo.” I shivered and ran my index finger around my collar. “It suddenly got a little frosty in here.”

Maggie raised her eyebrows. “So tell me … Ben. Does that line of yours ever get you any results?”

I smiled. “It’s never failed me,” I said.

“Well, Ben. I happen to know that the woman that organized this event really frowns on the help fraternizing with the guests.”

I looked around. “Well, let her frown. She’d probably crack her face if she smiled.”

Maggie tilted her head. “Oh, do you know her?” she asked.

“No. But I know the type—old, fat, and ugly. And she’s one rich bitch. You’d have to be to host this shindig. She probably inherited a boatload of money … never worked a day in her life … eats bonbons all day long until cocktail hour at four. I’ll bet she doesn’t even care anything about the art. She only holds this fundraiser to give meaning to her useless, pathetic existence.”

“I’m impressed,” she said. “Are you sure you don’t know her?”

“No, but I can read people pretty well. For example, I can tell you’re different from most of these people. You’re wealthy, but you work for a living. And you’re good at what you do. You’ve got pride, class, and elegance.” I pointed with my chin. “Most of them are just … fluff. And I can tell you’re not married,” I added.

“And you can tell that … how?”

“You’re not wearing a ring. At an event like this, you’d be flashing a large rock. But mostly I know because if I were your husband, I’d be fending off the wolves, and you wouldn’t be here talking to me right now.”

“So is it just me, or can you read anybody?” Maggie asked.

“Pretty much anybody,” I said. “I have a gift.”

I pointed to a lady to Maggie’s right. “You see that old bird with the animal around her neck?”

Maggie looked at her and then back to me.

“She’s obviously very wealthy,” I said. “You can tell that by the diamonds and the fur. But she hasn’t always been that way. She looks like she feels awkward here … like she’s still trying to fit with high society. The forced smile on her face tells me she’s unhappy. She doesn’t want to be here, but came for someone else, who she cares about deeply. She keeps turning her wedding ring, but there’s no man around.” I turned and looked Maggie in the eyes. “She’s a widow. She’s lost the man she loves, and now her life has very little meaning. It’s a shame because she looks like a kind, sweet woman and—”

I stopped in mid sentence when I realized Maggie’s eyes had filled with tears.

“That’s my mother,” she said gently.

“Oh, god. I’m so sorry,” I said. “I’m just running off at the mouth. I don’t know what I’m talking about, just trying to impress you. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“No, I’m not offended. You described her perfectly. In fact, I found it … touching.” She wiped her eyes and regained her composure. “Well, Ben, I’d like to hear more, but I have some responsibilities here that I need to attend to.”

“How about if we meet later for coffee?” I asked. I couldn’t let her get away.

She feigned astonishment. “You’re trying to tempt me with coffee?” She gestured toward the buffet. “Right here we have wine, seafood, beef tenderloin, imported cheeses, gourmet desserts … and a team of professional baristas serving Peet’s coffee.”

“Yeah,” I grinned, “but that’s not real coffee. I know this all-night diner, Eddie’s, downtown Raleigh on McDowell and Hargett. Their coffee’s unforgettable. Say eleven o’clock?”

Maggie glanced at her mother. “Well, after this is over, I have to tend to some final details, and then I have to take the old bird with the animal around her neck home. Let’s make it eleven thirty.”

I beamed and gave her a small bow. “Thank you, Ms. Marshak.”

She smiled back. “Call me Maggie,” she said. She turned and joined the other guests.

When I returned to the bar area, I relived the encounter and realized just how big of an ass I had made of myself to the woman who had organized and hosted the fundraiser.

After the event ended, I returned to my apartment, changed into a blue chambray shirt and jeans, and left. I arrived at Eddie’s at fifteen minutes past eleven o’clock and waited in my car. No one was more surprised than me when Maggie’s white Bentley pulled up and parked behind my Corolla.

She had also changed. When I opened her door, she was wearing blue jeans and a pink sweater with bright white sneakers. She gave me a once-over.

“Where did you get your clothes?” she asked.

I looked down. “Why? Is there something wrong with them?”

“No, not at all. Sorry. I’m in the clothing business, and it’s just a thing with me.”

It suddenly hit me. “Are you one of
the
Marshaks?”

“Actually, I am
the
Marshak,” she replied.

“Well,” I said, “then this is going to be a real treat for you. You’re probably used to people here in Raleigh kissin’ your … I mean … trying hard to please you, and now you’re going to get a taste of good old-fashioned restaurant service—New York style.”

I opened the restaurant door for her, and we entered. Eddie, who was working the kitchen, peered over the counter.

“Hey, Tucker! Long time no see!”

“Hey, Eddie. I’ve got a real classy lady here, so what do ya say ya whip up something special for us?”

He laughed and barked, “The menu’s the fuckin’ menu!” He pointed to the door. “If ya want somethin’ special, go to McDonalds and get your Big Mac with no onions!”

I looked at Maggie. “See? There’s no pretense here.” We grabbed a booth in the back where we could talk.

A pretty black waitress named Veronica came over to take our order. Maggie let me drive.

“We’ll start with two cups of coffee, and follow it up with two chili dogs each with fries.” Veronica took the order, smiled and left.

She returned shortly with our coffee. Maggie took a sip and made a face. “Good god, what is this? It tastes like coal tar! I thought you said the coffee here was good.”

“No, I said it was unforgettable. This is
real
coffee. It’s probably been brewing for days.”

Maggie pushed her cup away. “I believe you. If you don’t mind, I think I’ll have a Coke.”

Eddie had ventured outside to take out some trash and came back in excited. “Hey you guys! You should check out the car that’s out there!”

I gave him a half-hearted wave. “It’s just my Corolla,” I said.

“Bullshit! There’s a Bentley out here!” Maggie laughed as everyone in the diner went outside to take a look.

We finished our chili dogs, and sat and talked until almost three o’clock in the morning—mostly about our daughters. I also finished off three cups of coffee. It was absolutely horrid.

CHAPTER 31

Maggie and I were now dressed and waiting in the great room, having a starter glass of champagne while we waited for Nora.

Maggie was a sight to behold in a stunning navy blue sequined, one-shoulder gown. It was ruched through the waist, flattering her drop-dead figure and had a fishtail hemline leading into a short train. A matching jacket was draped across the back of a chair. She wore silver, high-heeled open-toe sandals, and she’d iced the cake with a diamond necklace and a matching wrist cuff and teardrop earrings.

I’m sure I was dapper in a classic black tux, but no one would be looking at me. And that would be fine because I wanted to spend the evening watching my beautiful wife without being accused of stalking her. If I had to go to this thing, I would at least be able to admire the most exquisite piece of art there.

Maggie looked at me and smiled. “Stop staring, Ben,” she said. I said nothing and winked at her.

Nora walked into the great room, all decked out and carrying her mink stole. Her slate colored silk dress had a chiffon overlay that was embroidered with an intricate floral pattern of beads and sequins on the bodice. It had three-quarter length sleeves and was fitted on the top before releasing to a softly swirling skirt. The V-neck accentuated the spectacular diamond necklace draped around her neck. Matching slate-colored shoes and gloves completed the ensemble. She looked like royalty.

I smiled and whistled. “”Wow! Don’t you look fantastic. Spin around.”

She beamed as she whirled around and posed like a runway model. I laughed.

I looked at the stole and said, “Um … you know, Nora, there are a lot of animal activists these days who really frown on the animal furs.”

“I know, Benji, but this fur was one of the first things Henry gave me when our first store turned profitable. When he gave it to me, it was one of the happiest days of my life.” She hesitated and added with a hint of regret, “I would never buy another one, though, and if I knew then what I know now, I would have asked him if he would mind if I exchanged it. I wasn’t very worldly back then. I’m still not.” She looked at me uneasily. “Do you think I should leave Bart here?”

“Excuse me?”

“Henry’s middle name is Bartholomew.” Nora’s eyes filled. “I named my animal Bart in memory of my Henry, and when I wear it, I feel like he’s with me.”

I could see that the fur had an emotional value for her far beyond its monetary value. “No way.” I said. “Here, let me help wrap it around you.” I kissed her on the cheek as I did, and she looked up and smiled sweetly at me.

 “Oh,” she said, “I forgot my bracelet,” and quickly went to her room.

I looked at Maggie and raised my eyebrows. “So what’s that little getup worth?”

“Including the jewels, she’s wearing a hundred grand,” Maggie said casually.

“Yowza!”

The clock chimed six o’clock. Maggie finished her glass of champagne and said, “Okay, people, let’s roll!”

As we walked through the kitchen, Julie looked up and watched us from the breakfast table where she was working on her homework. She told us we looked like movie stars on the way to receive our Oscars. The real Oscar was sitting at Roberta’s feet as she prepared chicken and dumplings. He ignored the three of us, riveted on Roberta in case anything should accidentally drop to the floor. Now and then something did, but it wasn’t accidental. That dog had Roberta wrapped around his little finger—as they say.