“Enough of that. I don’t know about y’all,” Helen Louise said, “but I’m ready to sample the food. I’m curious to find out who did the catering.”
“I’m ready, too,” I said. “Excuse us, guys, unless you want to join us.”
Stewart shook his head, his gaze intent on the front door as new guests continued to arrive. Haskell sighed. “I’m coming with you. I’ve had enough red carpet for one night.”
The three of us stepped around Stewart and into the living room. As I gazed around the space, I noted that some pieces had been shifted to accommodate two tables full of food. The holiday decorations were on the minimalist side, as they had been in the hall, I now realized. I wondered why Gerry hadn’t attempted to make the rooms more festive when she had gone overboard in decorating the exterior of the house. Anything in the holiday mode that might jibe with the industrial feel of the room, however, was hard to imagine.
I followed Helen Louise and Haskell to the end of one of the tables. They picked up plates, napkins, and forks and began to move down either side. I could tell from my partner’s expression that what she saw laid out did not impress her. I had to agree. Given the money Gerry had spent on the champagne, I somehow thought the food would be more than what one could get at the local discount warehouse. Mini-quiches, a variety of cheeses and crackers, sliced apples and grapes, and sliced ham and turkey—all no doubt tasty enough, but nothing out of the ordinary. We loaded our plates and moved on.
The second table replicated the first, we discovered. “Perhaps the dessert-type items are in the dining room,” I said.
Helen Louise shrugged and cut a mini-quiche in half. “Probably those little cheesecake squares and chocolate-covered cherries.” She chewed the piece of quiche. “Not bad,” she said when she finished it. “Not great, but not bad.” She ate the other half.
“Not near as good as your food,” Haskell said. “But I’m not going to turn it down.”
I finished a cracker with mozzarella and a couple of red grapes. I loved cheese, and the mozzarella tasted fine. I might have to go back for more of it, I decided.
We moved out of the way of other guests who had drifted toward the tables, and found a corner across the room from the one currently occupied by Milton and the still-haranguing Tammy. While we ate, I couldn’t stop watching the unhappy couple. Milton looked like he wished the floor would swallow him, but other than simply walking out on his wife, I doubted there was any way he could cut off the flood of vituperation. I couldn’t hear the words, but the tone was obvious, even fifteen or more feet away.
Haskell spotted a man he wanted to talk to, excused himself, and left us.
I recognized most of the people in the room now, four couples and three singles. The guests started to mingle, once they had loaded their plates. We began to circulate to chat with them. Most of them knew Helen Louise because of the bistro. I glanced toward the door to see Stewart still avidly watching the arrivals. A couple paused to talk to him, and a few more guests wandered into the room, evidently in search of food. They headed straight for the tables.
“Quite a good turnout,” said Betty Camden, a retired schoolteacher who lived at the end of the block on my side. “I know I, for one, have been dying to see the inside of this house.” She laughed. “Particularly after seeing the outside. Talk about over-the-top.”
“Yes, it’s pretty extravagant,” Helen Louise said. “And so is the champagne.”
“Can’t say the same for the food.” Betty cast a critical eye over the contents of her plate, then glanced around the room. “Her decorating style is not my taste at all, I must say. Way too modern.”
Chip, Betty’s husband, said, “Looks like the inside of a factory to me.” I didn’t know him or his wife well, only saying hello if I encountered them somewhere. “I’m dying to meet our hostess,” Betty said. “I’ve seen her two or three times out and about in town, and once when I drove by here, but that’s it. Have you gotten to know her any, Charlie?”
“I hear she’s attractive,” said Chip, and Betty flashed him a look of irritation.
“Nobody asked you.” Betty turned back to me.
“I’ve chatted with her a few times,” I said. “Briefly. She did tell me she grew up here, but I’d never met her before, and she seems to be about my age. If we’d gone to school together, I think I would remember her.”
Betty nearly spit out a mouthful of champagne. “Don’t let her fool you, at least about her age. I got a good look once at her face and her neck. She’s closer to my age, I’d swear to it. I grew up in Athena, too, and I don’t recall her, either. Definitely some kind of mystery there.”
“You ought to be able to figure it out.” Chip, a lawyer often rumored to have political ambitions, nodded at me. “You like solving mysteries, right?”
I laughed. “I do, but I’m not sure this is one I want to solve.”
“Don’t encourage him,” Helen Louise said.
A sudden commotion in the hall interrupted us. Nearly as one, the guests in the living room surged toward the door. Helen Louise and I set down our plates on a small table against the wall before we followed. We ended up next to Stewart. He grinned at us and said, “Fasten your seat belts. It’s going to be a bumpy night.”
I almost didn’t hear him because of the screeching going on right in front of us. Tammy Harville and Gerry Albritton faced each other at the bottom of the stairs. Gerry stood silent, her expression one of bored contempt as she listened to Tammy.
All conversation had ceased by then, and everyone had no trouble hearing Tammy’s next words.
“I’m telling you for the last time, you whore. Stay away from my husband, or you won’t live to regret it.”
THIRTEEN
I watched, fascinated, as Gerry remained cool in the face of Tammy’s wild anger. Poor Milton suddenly stepped forward from wherever he had been lurking and grabbed Tammy’s arm. He jerked her around to face him. She stumbled and nearly fell, but Milton’s tight grip kept her upright.
“That’s enough, do you hear me?” Milton’s face evinced both his embarrassment and his rage. “You’re completely out of control. I swear if you don’t stop this, I’ll get you committed to Whitfield if it’s the last thing I do.”
Whitfield was the state mental health facility near Jackson. Tammy appeared so out of control that she probably needed the kind of help Whitfield provided. This was not normal behavior.
Tammy, now faced with a husband who had finally found his snapping point after the Lord only knew how much provocation, appeared stunned.
“Would you mind removing this lunatic from my house?” Gerry asked, her tone still calm. “I won’t tolerate this kind of behavior from anyone.”
“We’re going.” Milton tugged Tammy toward the door, and she provided no resistance. I thought even she had realized how far over the line she had stepped.
Jincy hurried to open the door for them, and Milton pushed his wife out of the house. I had never seen him angry, let alone in a rage like this. Jincy closed the door, and after a few beats of silence, conversation erupted. Gerry began to move among her guests, and from her manner, no one would ever imagine she had just endured a highly emotional confrontation.
“Poor Milton,” Helen Louise said. I hadn’t known she was behind me, and I turned and nodded.
“She needs help,” I said. “I wonder, do you think she has an addiction problem? Could drugs or alcohol be making her act this way?”
“Possibly,” Helen Louise said. “She’s been erratic as long as I’ve known her, though, so if she is an addict, it’s been going on for years.”
“Maybe now that Milton has had enough,” Stewart said, “Tammy will change her ways. If Milton doesn’t back down, that is.”