“Your grandmother.”
“She’s addicted to the Crime Channel. She’s going to go crazy when I tell her I had coffee with you. She’s a big fan. And that’s my way of postponing talking about this. I’m not as fond of crime talk as my grandmother, and what happened to Lori and Ira, it’s still … It’s hard. How can I help you?”
“Do you know Rosa and Neville Patrick?”
“I’ve met her several times—before all this. I organize and coordinate for a few people. I don’t work for her, but I’ve worked for or done specific events and tasks for people she knows, and for groups she’s involved with.”
“I imagine you’ve done business with Jacko’s Catering and Loan Star Rentals.”
“I have. They both have excellent and well-earned reputations. They’re on my preferred vendors list. Lori uses First Class, and that’s also on my list.”
“What about Loan Star? Neither of the Brinkmans could be absolutely sure if they’ve used the company or not.”
“They haven’t. I can double-check my files, but I remember details. It’s possible Ira’s company has, dealing with them through his admin, though I can’t think of any specific event where they’d have needed rentals.”
“Okay. How about the Strazzas?”
“I was at her wedding.” Lilia lifted the dessert plate. “Come on, try one. You won’t regret it.”
“You’re friends with the Strazzas?”
“No, not at all. They hired a friend and associate of mine, Darcy Valentine—real name—of Valentine Event Coordinators to do their wedding. Darcy pulled me in to help. Huge, splashy deal at the Roarke Palace.”
“Really?” Intrigued, Eve bit into the cookie, decided she had no regrets.
“It is the place for huge, splashy society weddings in the city. So I worked with Daphne for a few weeks, though Dr. Strazza ran the show.”
She shrugged slightly, crossing her strong, athletic legs. “I didn’t work much with him—he met primarily with Darcy. Daphne was a spectacular bride, absolutely fairy-tale time, and the wedding was perfect. Believe me, Darcy and I weren’t working with Bridezilla on this one. Darcy had Groomzilla to deal with, and I had Dream Bride.”
“So you worked more directly with Daphne.”
“As it turned out, yeah. Darcy had her hands full with the groom. Dr. Strazza was very clear about what he expected, and while there’s nothing wrong with that, he was, well, let’s just term it unpleasant. Darcy—and I know this is talking trash about the dead—nicknamed him Dr. Dictator, and actually gave her entire staff a combat bonus after the wedding.
“On the other hand, Daphne wrote Darcy and me each a personal thank-you when they got back from the honeymoon. She had a quiet class, the sort my cookie-baking grandmother would say comes from a good upbringing.”
With a fresh smile, Lilia polished off her cookie. “I liked working with her—and she had good ideas. She had event-planning experience and it showed, but he most often either vetoed her ideas, or turned them into his ideas. Made it seem like he’d thought of it. I hate that. Don’t you hate that?”
“As a matter of fact.”
“Yeah. Frankly, I didn’t like him. Sorry he’s dead and all that, but I’m glad she’s not.”
She blew out a breath. “So three women I know and like have gone through something horrific. I’m not my grandmother, but I can figure out there’s a connection somewhere. You asked about those vendors. I’m pretty well acquainted with the people who work at both companies, even tight with a few of them. I would swear, without hesitation, none of them could do what was done.”
“You probably shoptalk with the people at both companies, what jobs you’ve done, what you’ve got coming up, what the clients are like, and so on.”
“Sure. You can spend considerable time together, going over menus, decor choices, stemware, linens, coordinating schedules, itineraries, agendas. What worked for Client A, didn’t work as well for Client B. And war stories. Oh.” Lilia flopped back. “Oh, I get it. We talk. I just told a yoga friend about this new client who tagged me yesterday because she’d decided she wanted to go to Borneo, to this specific resort, and book this specific suite. And she wanted to leave today. That’s one day to arrange travel, bookings—and the spa treatments she reeled off. Plus, it’s a popular resort, especially this time of year, and the suite’s booked, and—never mind.”
Lilia batted it away with both hands. “But if it’s not confidential, you talk. Now, I’m not going to tell somebody in the local market that Clients Smith and Jones on Second Avenue are leaving for Europe tomorrow and will be gone for two weeks. That’s just careless and asking to have the clients’ house broken into. But I may tell Darcy just that if we were talking and there was something interesting about it, or if we both knew the clients.”