“I always have a point,” Kate said. “That’s why you keep me around, despite my devastatingly distracting beauty. So what do we do now, Miss Marple?”
“Miss Marple didn’t trail people, Kate, she just sat still and gossiped and knit and listened to what people said and drew conclusions from her rich knowledge of the human psyche,” I said, unable to let this pass from a proclaimed expert on fictional detectives, despite the current high stakes in our real life detecting. “God, it’s like we never had seventeen sleepovers where I introduced you to the staples of classic British television.”
“Don’t remind me; I talked in a British accent for six weeks. My parents were thinking about having me committed. So, Insert-Lady-Detective-And-Or-Spy-Name-of-Choice here—”
“Peggy Carter.”
“So, Peggy Carter, what’s our next step?”
I thought for a second, and then I felt a wicked grin bloom on my face as I came across the perfect idea.
“We get sneaky.”
I fished my cell phone out of my purse and searched for the restaurant number. Grant had gone ahead and put it in after a few days into us living together, “so you aren’t perpetually asking me what it is when you get your inevitable cravings for mango sorbet.” I stifled the bittersweet pang that rose in my heart when I remembered that moment, remembered the softness in his eyes undercutting the dryness of his words.
“Rama front desk, how may I help you?” The brisk business-like voice of the receptionist called me back to reality.
I shot a grin at Kate and, twirling a lock of hair around my finger, put on my very best Valley Girl voice. “Um, hi, this is Kimberly? I’m the assistant to, like, Portia Smith? And oh my God this is totally random but she really really wanted to know when her South African diamond shipment came in here at the office? And I’m totally supposed to deliver the shipping manifest to your restaurant and she’ll totally kill me if I don’t get it there on time?”
Kate was holding her stomach trying to keep in the laughter. I shot her a warning look; background giggles would definitely give us away.
“I see,” the receptionist said slowly. “Well, we can certainly accommodate a delivery, if you would care to stop by—”
“Well, gosh, sure, thanks!” I bubbled like an out-of-control water cooler. “But it’s like, for her eyes only? And, like, the delivery boy has to know the name the reservation is under? And I can’t remember if it’s Smith or one of her business partners and OMG this is so embarrassing but I totally forgot their names? Like, one of them—” I cast my memory back to the sight of Portia entering Rama—“he’s like, older, bald, blue suit, kind of a hatchet chin? And another one, he’s younger, slicked back blonde hair, black suit, sort of, like, a button nose? And there’s about three other guys with them, basically dressed the same, like totally a clone army, you know?”
“Er…” I could hear the uncertainty in the receptionist’s voice. “We’re really not supposed to give out that kind of information, I’m sure you understand—”
“Oh my gosh, please, I’ll be like, totally indebted to you!” I pleaded, trying not to look at Kate, who was steadily losing it, hand clapped over her mouth as she writhed in laughter. “She’ll totally murder me with a slide rule or something if I don’t get this to her, and I really need this job!”
“I’m sorry, and I’d really love to help, but—” the receptionist began.
I had one card left, and no more options. “Please! It’s minimum wage, and my rent’s already late this month, and if I get fired I’ll have to bring my cat back to the animal shelter and move back in with my parents!”
I waited, mentally willing the receptionist to soften, while Kate shook with thankfully silent giggles.
“Oh, very well, as long as you check in with the maitre d’,” the receptionist caved. I heard the sound of flipping pages as she searched through the reservation book. “Ah, here it is. Party of five, under the name…James C. Brandt.”
“Oh, like, thanks so much! You’re a literal lifesaver.” I hung up and turned to Kate. “I need to borrow your phone.” I reached into her purse and took it.
Kate managed to stop laughing long enough to look confused. “What? Why? There’s a phone in your other hand, Lacey, you just used it!”
“I need to borrow your phone because you have a smart phone, and my phone still remembers the good old days where this entire valley was mastodon as far as the eye could see.” I typed ‘James C. Brandt’ into Google, and then swore at the bad news.
“That quick?” Kate asked. “Damn, your Google-fu is strong. So what now? Are these guys her coven or something? Do they drink the blood of the innocent? Are they planning to sacrifice babies at the full moon?”
“Worse,” I said grimly, and turned the phone around so that Kate could see. “These guys run a hedge fund, and they’ve tried to buy out the company before.” I swallowed, hard. “Portia is plotting a hostile takeover.”