The Marsh Madness

“Let’s position ourselves so she doesn’t get past us,” I whispered to Lance.

“I’ll get over to the front door, in case,” he said, sidling smoothly toward the main entrance. “I guess she came alone.”

I wiggled my way through the crowd, teetering on my five-inch heels. Now that my days and nights were spent in a small upstate New York town chasing first editions online, I’d gotten out of training in the art of wearing stilettos.

“Excuse me. Excuse me.” I kept repeating it as I found myself blocked by men and women who were too fascinated with each other to let another person pass. Finally, I stopped bothering and put my elbows out. In our family, we pride ourselves on our pointy elbows.

When I got close enough to speak, Poppy was holding Shelby by her arms. “What’s wrong with you?” she asked, for a moment forgetting that she was center of attention.

Shelby shook her head and said, “Nothing. Just a migraine. I’m fine. I couldn’t stand to miss tonight. I wanted to tell you how wonderful it all is . . .” She took her first look around at the artworks on the wall and turned with a weak smile to Poppy. “Then I’ll head home to bed.”

No way you will, I said to myself. Not before I get my hooks into you. The group between Poppy and Shelby and me simply ignored my elbows and my “excuse mes.” Shelby gave Poppy a peck on each cheek and a hug. I could hear their conversation, but I needed to get close enough to speak to Shelby myself.

“I hope you’re not driving with that migraine. You look awful.”

“Thanks,” Shelby said with a crooked grin. “My friend is waiting for me in the car.”

“Oh, come, Shelby. Don’t tell me you’re still involved with that—”

Damn. Why hadn’t we asked Poppy about the man in Shelby’s life? We’d asked other people.

I pushed my way through two of the chatty types who seemed determined to block anyone from getting past them. As I did, I turned and caught Lance’s eye. I made a ridiculously complicated gesture, pointing to Shelby, pointing outside and turning an imaginary steering wheel. I hoped he would understand what I meant.

“Shelby!” I called. She whirled.

Poppy recoiled. “Sorry, um,” she said, meaning she was not sorry at all, “but Shelby and I are having a private chat. Do you mind waiting?”

Meaning she couldn’t have cared less if I minded or not. Face it, this was her party and her friend, and I was nobody and nothing.

But not to Shelby. She whirled and stared at me. She shook her head, frowned, trying to figure where she’d seen me.

“It’s Jordan, Shelby,” I said.

“Leave us alone,” Poppy said.

“I have to go,” Shelby said shakily.

“It is a matter of life and death,” I interjected loudly.

Shelby flinched. Poppy stared at her and at me. “We have security here,” she said, jabbing me with her long red nail. “I said this is a private conversation. Spare me the life-and-death crap.”

I’d already elbowed so many people out of the way, I felt sure if Poppy raised the alarm, I’d be tackled if not actually lynched.

“When I say life and death, Shelby, or should I call you ‘Lisa,’ I think you know what I mean.”

Shelby swayed.

“Murder is a bad thing to be involved in, Shelby. You’d better come clean, because the longer you don’t, the worse it’s going to be when the police catch up with you.”

Poppy’s jawed dropped. “Get out of here! Shelby, what’s going on?”

“I’m going to be sick,” Shelby bleated. She pushed forward and ran across the gallery, hands over her mouth. People who didn’t move in time found their martini glasses flying. Shrieks were added to the din of conversation.

Shelby stumbled but kept going. I was right after her, pushing my way through people and hearing glass crunch under my feet. Shelby hit the emergency exit, pushed it open and vanished.





CHAPTER FIFTEEN