Died To Match Part 29

I was innocently nestling them into Eddie's box when it occurred to me that maybe I had knocked them out of focus, or out of alignment, or whatever. And how else could I check except by aiming them at something? That brightly lit window, for example, would be a perfect way to test them out...

Whoa. Nothing wrong with the focus. With the lenses at my eyes, the Hot Spot's rear window leapt into brilliant clarity, as did the Saint Nick chick. She had shed the padded red trousers and the beard, and while I watched, fascinated, she strutted back and forth, moving to music I couldn't hear, in just her fur-trimmed jacket, ta.s.seled red hat, and high black boots.

If I were a young man-or an old one, or one in between-I would have said she had thighs to die for.

Santa's audience, mostly cut off from my downward view by the edge of the cafe's roof, seemed not to realize that they were sharing the show with any pa.s.sing sailboat-or hidden observer. But in fact, you'd have to be up in a crow's nest, or up where I was, to get just the right angle.

If the bachelors had thought of that, they sure didn't care. As I watched, Frank Sanjek sat heavily on the floor at his comrade's feet, and someone invisible to me poured a beer on his head. He didn't appear to notice.

I could see why. Dipping and swaying, always in motion, Santa dropped the jacket off one smooth bare shoulder, then the other, each time letting the white fur border of the garment slip lower and lower down the curves of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

Then, perhaps responding to some climax in the music, she suddenly turned her back to the boys and her front to me, bent forward, and flipped the jacket up behind. If she was wearing much of anything under the jacket, it was too small for the binoculars to pick up. Frank fell over sideways.

I was hastily putting the binoculars down-honest, I was- when my phone rang again. Something told me it wasn't Jason this time.

It was my erstwhile hostess, wondering when I'd be home for the night.

"Oh jeez, Lily, have you been waiting up for me?"

"No, but I'm going to bed now, and I wanted to be sure you have your key."

"Yep, I've got it. I'll probably be there soon."

"Did you find your photo?"

"No, I should have given up hours ago. Then I wouldn't have gotten dragged over to the Hot Spot." I told her about Jason's summons, and the arrival of Santa.

"So did you stay to watch?" she inquired archly.

"Of course not!" I glanced over at the binoculars. The back of my neck was damp. "Why would I do that?"

"Just kidding. Seriously, though, you didn't happen to see Darwin, did you? I shouldn't worry but I can't help it, I still feel like he's my baby brother. And he was so out of control before he got this job-"

"Actually, I talked to him," I told her. "He seemed OK. Come to think of it, he seemed sober. Doesn't he drink?"

"Not any more. He's been in A A for a year now."

Lily had never disclosed this about Darwin before, and I wasn't sure how to reply. "Oh...well, I wasn't at the party for long, but honestly, he was fine."

"Forget I asked, OK?" She hastened to change the subject. "Did you see Aaron?"

"Aaron Gold?" I almost dropped the phone.

"Are you in love with some other Aaron?" I could hear the wicked smile in her voice. "Dar said he was invited tonight."

"You know perfectly well I'm not in love with Aaron. I'm not sure I ever was."

Just to prove it, I should have changed the subject myself. But I couldn't. "I thought he was still in Boston, anyway. How does he know Frank?"

"I don't think he does, really," said Lily. "Darwin told me Aaron's working on some book about the CEO of Meet for Coffee. He's gotten friendly with the guys in Creative Services, so they asked him to the party. I guess he didn't go, though."

"I guess not." Unless he was in that side room shooting pool with Jason. I wonder...

"Um, Lily, I'd better get back to work here. I want to make one more pa.s.s through the files, and then get some paperwork done. This TV thing tomorrow has really thrown me off."

"Good luck. I've set the VCR for you."

"Thanks, Lily. Good night."

I did spend some time downstairs in my borrowed office- but not much. Aaron was on my mind, and so were those binoculars. Rolling my eyes at my own foolishness, I took the elevator back up and focused on the window again. Not that I cared whether Aaron was there. Not that I cared about Aaron.

Not that I could see him, either. Santa had left the area near the lighted window, and the revelers seemed to be milling aimlessly inside, as if the party was winding down. I spotted Mr. Garlic, but no one else familiar-until a sudden tangle of movement drew my attention to the gra.s.sy slope below the deck.

There in the frost and the shadows, two tall, lanky figures were struggling together, dodging and flailing in clumsy counterpoint. I had no trouble recognizing them: Jason Croy, and Lily's baby brother. The best man was obviously drunk; maybe Darwin was taking his car keys away?

It was hard to tell if this was a ritual male scuffle-elk clashing their antlers-or a serious fight. Either way, I can't say it bothered me to see the supercilious Jason getting knocked around a little.

The third figure was less ambiguous: Frank Sanjek, the bridegroom, was kneeling on the gra.s.s and being hideously sick. Another male ritual. I sighed and shook my head. Time for me to go.

But once I went downstairs and finished some genuine work, a nagging question kept me from actually walking out the door. I had a.s.sured Lily that her brother was fine, and now he was apparently in the middle of a fistfight. Shouldn't I check on the outcome?

For that matter, shouldn't I make sure that the amiable, sensible bridegroom wasn't unconscious and abandoned by his drunken friends, out in the freezing night? Eddie tells me I fuss too much about our clients, and maybe it's true, but I couldn't wait to see Sally Tyler walk down the aisle and out of my life. And to that end, I needed Frank Sanjek safe and sound.

So I rode the elevator up to the storeroom one last time, and pulled out my illicit spygla.s.ses. I had forgotten to turn the radio off, so as I scanned the scene across the ca.n.a.l the talk station provided an incongruous sound track: several snooty-sounding people debating the situation in Northern Ireland.

There was even less to see this time. The cafe's windows had gone dark, which made it hard to get a clear view into the shrubbery. But Frank was definitely gone. In fact, I couldn't see anyone at all except for Santa Claus. She was striding briskly down the street away from the cafe in her padded red suit, head up and shoulders back after a job well done.

All's well that ends well, I thought idly. I'm just glad we didn't have a damage deposit- "Bird watching?"

I gasped and whirled around. Eddie's binoculars slipped from my nerveless fingers and landed in the silver punch bowl with a enormous and resounding gonnng.

I was shocked, and not just because a man was now lounging in the storeroom doorway. I was shocked by who it was.

Aaron Gold. The man I'd been dating, the man I'd been falling for. The man who had a wife back in Boston.

I hadn't spoken to him since I found out.

The air in the storeroom was clean and neutral; now that I was paying attention, I could smell a blend of cigars and retsina from where I stood.

So he was shooting pool in the other room. And then watching Santa...

Unlike the younger party guys, Aaron wore a tie, but it hung loose from his collar, and his crow-black hair was mussed. The deep-set brown eyes gleamed even more than usual, and when he smiled, his swift white grin came out lopsided.

"S' Christmas," he said, nodding his head sagely. A lock of hair flopped down into his eyes. "You're gonna find out who's naughty or nice."

I stood with my back to the reverberating punch bowl, and took a deep breath. I didn't know how long he had watched me watching, or whether he could guess that I'd been spying on the striptease. I also didn't know how I felt about him, after the last few weeks of angry silence and unwilling tears.

And what neither of us knew, and wouldn't learn until the next day, was this: of the three young men I had observed on the gra.s.s behind the Hot Spot Cafe, only two were still alive.

Also by Deborah Donnelly

Veiled Threats