Page 26 of Seven Reasons to Murder Your Dinner Guests
As they make their way back toward the bar area, they pass Janet sitting in the back row. Her elbows are propped on her knees, her head bent forward. Tristan glances at Vivienne; should they speak to her?
“Erm…Janet, are you all right?” Vivienne asks, hovering next to her seat while a tutting Gordon marches past.
“I just need a moment,” says the voice from under the veil.
“We’ll wait for you in the bar,” Melvin says, touching her shoulder and then gesturing for the others to follow him out.
Melvin leaves through the doors and heads to the high-top table near the bar, where Gordon has sat down.
As Melvin balances his large frame on one of the tall barstools, Tristan notices he looks different—slimmer, definitely; younger somehow; and wearing a three-piece tweed suit. Tristan is certainly no style expert, but he feels that the bow tie might be a step too far.
“I must say, you’re looking rather dapper,” Vivienne notes once she’s balanced her smaller frame on a stool.
“Is it OK?” Melvin asks, a hand on his trimmed-down middle.
“Very smart,” Gordon nods, sounding bored.
“Thank you. My colleague Christian has given me a bit of a makeover.” At the mention of the nameChristian, Melvin’s mannerchanges slightly. His chest pushes forward, his face brightens as if a light has switched on inside him.
“And how’s Mary?” Vivienne asks.
“Oh, actually she’s been unwell, had to have another round of chemo, unfortunately, but doing better now,” Melvin mumbles before excusing himself to go to the mens’ room.
“Any sign of those canapés?” Vivienne asks.
Tristan watches her search the room. It’s midday now, and he knows she has her breakfast at 6:30 a.m.—a bowl of granola with a handful of berries on top—so she’ll be peckish (her word) by now. She looks up and gives him a proud smile; she’s thinking about how smart he looks in his shirt and trousers, he can tell. Honestly, it’s like he’s picked up a second mother in these last few months. When Vivienne asked him about blogs following Stella’s funeral, he was sure she was only looking for a freebie IT lesson. He opened his mouth to tell her he was too busy, but then she said something that stopped him:I fear the modern world is leaving me behind. She’d been so cold when they first met in the street, all edges and ice, but she thawed a little before his eyes, and he glimpsed a side of her that he suspected she usually kept hidden. He’d handed over his card and, before he knew it, he was sitting opposite Vivienne in a stuffy little café in Waterloo. He’d dreaded it and yet, once they got going, something unexpected happened—he started to enjoy himself. Vivienne was an eager and conscientious student; she asked insightful questions and picked up new ideas easily. And when he talked, she really listened, her pale-blue eyes wide, absorbing each word. They’d met up everySunday since, and now Tristan found he looked forward to his afternoons with Vivienne.
“A little help, if you don’t mind?” Janet snaps, holding a silk-gloved hand out to Tristan, who steps off his own seat. She hooks her heel over the bar at the bottom of the stool next to him and then attempts to pull herself up.
“Come on now, put your back into it,” she says, gripping his hand tightly as he bears the brunt of her weight. At this close proximity, Tristan can’t help but notice that the woman is considerably larger than three months ago. He hears a grunt from Gordon’s direction as Janet’s hand starts to slip out of the glove that Tristan is clutching. He looks up to meet Vivienne’s eyes, which are wide with mischief.
Then, slowly, Janet starts to keel sideways. Her hat flops to the floor, the veil flailing in its wake.
“I’ve got you,” Melvin says, suddenly appearing on Janet’s other side and easily lifting her onto the stool and retrieving her ludicrous hat.
“Thank you, Melvin,” Janet says. “These damn slippery gloves! I wanted to wear my leather pair, but I could only find one.” She pushes the offending gloves into her bag and pulls out a small mirror in which she checks her hair.
At Janet’s words, Vivienne’s head snaps up. She looks shocked as she stares at Tristan.What?he mouths in response.
But then a waiter appears, holding a tray of smoked salmon blini, followed by another bearing a tray of tall champagne glasses.
“Don’t mind if I do,” Janet says, helping herself to threeblini and two glasses. “Be a darling and fetch some lunch menus too?”
Gordon clears his throat.
“So now we have more evidence,” he begins, shaking his head at the waiters, who turn away from them and head over to the next table, where the “weeping widows” are sitting.
“Evidence? Are you referring to Matthew’s tragic suicide?” Melvin booms.
“I am. Stella’s number was correct, and you have confirmed that Matthew’s number was indeed twenty-nine…” Gordon says.
“I thought Matthew didn’t open his envelope,” Vivienne cuts in.
“That’s what he told us at the wine bar, but after you all left, he admitted to me that he’d seen his number—and it was twenty-nine,” Melvin says gravely.
“I knew it!” Janet screeches, wobbling on her stool, not unlike a giant Weeble.
“What else did he say?” Vivienne asks.
