Cat In A Sapphire Slipper

“Not . . . anything,” Ralph said, narrowing his eyes and fingering his discreet gold earring. “The guy was . . . blah. Bland. Not memorable. Every Mr. Smith you ever saw. Except his last name was Gherken. You talked to him, it sounded like you were asking for a pickle. On the other hand, our clients are always pretty jolly out on the town, and like a good laugh.”

“Funny,” Temple said. “You hear the name ‘Smith’ and get suspicious. You hear a ridiculous last name and you think it’s got to be genuine. Who’d make up a moniker like that?”

Ralph sat up, worried. “You think he was in on it! But it was just chance he got the Vanillamobile and our party.”

“Anybody talk personally to the ‘sick’ driver?”

“He was bribed?”

Temple said nothing.

“You mean he might have been mugged.”

“Or kidnapped himself.”

“Or killed. Jesu bambino! He could have been killed himself. And we shouldn’t call out of here to find out, unless we’re ready to call the cops too.” Ralph stood. “It would look suspicious if we want to use the excuse that none of our cell phones worked. Much as I hate to do it, I’ll talk to the guys about turning ourselves in.”

Temple had the satisfaction of astounding a Fontana brother. Usually it was the other way around.

Meanwhile, she was waiting for her next interviewee. This person was the bridge between the “before” and “after” of the kidnapping, least seen, least appraised.

Aldo led her in. The woman who had actually added some black palazzo pants to her butt-skimming uniform blazer.

As a showgirl, Asiah had the height and department-store-mannequin-broad shoulders to convincingly mimic a man in silhouette through a tinted glass darkly. With her platinum-blond hair under a cap and her hot-chocolate skin, she was the perfect substitute for a male driver, especially since the Fontana party owned the limo and the company.

They were likely to pile in on their own without an attentive chauffeur opening and closing each door behind them. They were on home ground; less wary. They were all men; the bachelor party crew didn’t need the niceties of a formal evening out to impress a woman. And that had been their blind spot, as their girlfriends had foreseen.

It was hard to imagine the spectacular Asiah squired by the most conservative Fontana brother, Ralph, but opposites do attract. And Temple had a hunch mild-mannered Ralph might go for a drop-dead, in-your-face gal like Asiah.

In fact, Temple felt a little nervous about interviewing her. All the Fontana girlfriends were taller than she, but that wasn’t hard to be.

“What sold you on this kidnap caper?” Temple asked.

Asiah’s wide smile showed shark-white teeth. “I figured my guy could use a walk on the wild side.”

“The wild evening out was the reason, not making them regret not proposing marriage?”

“Girlfriend, that was a fine reason for the others. Me, I just liked the rush. Driving those Fontana boys somewhere off the beaten track, fooling them, being in control of that huge limo and all those men. What a blast!”

“You French-kissed the driver to seal the deal?” Temple sounded squeamish even to herself.

“Soul-kissed, sweetie. I love turning the tables on everyone. Even my girlfriends, if that had come up. I crave adventure.”

“Did you have a room picked out for you and Ralph?” Okay, that was a totally salacious, irrelevant, and immaterial query.

“Um-hmm. But I don’t wanta embarrass a sweet little thing like you. You are so darling! And so is your man. If you ever take your fiancé here on a sentimental journey, ask for Room XXX.”

Wow. They did need to decide on a honeymoon destination. . . .

“Asiah, you obviously like living on the edge and are a sharp lady. Didn’t you have any suspicions that this scheme was working too smoothly? That someone could have been using this girls’ night out scenario for something sinister?”

“Is that what you think? The whole thing was a setup?” She crossed her long, long legs and sucked her shiny paprika red-glossed lips to consider it. Nothing shy about this woman. Ralph? “Now that the murder’s been done, sure. Then . . . we were pumped. We were into it. It seemed like harmless fun.”

“And the dead woman?”

Asiah’s expression sobered. “Not planned. Not anticipated. That is one ugly development, and it isn’t only the Fontana boys who will be in the hot seat when the law comes into it. It’ll be all us girls. We look stupid, if not like right-on-target suspects.”

“Is it possible some of you are?”

Asiah shook her platinum-blond hair, still serious. “Could be. I never thought of that, even after the body was found. Girls just want to have fun, you know.”

“Not always. These girlfriends were tired of just having fun.

That was the point. They wanted serious commitment.”

“Not me. I’ve got a great job, a great guy, a great life.”

“How did you all get together for this? Did you have occasional hen parties, or what?”