Authors: Cindy Sample
Dying for a Dance (21 page)
“I don't know.” My mother picked up the tiny doll and rolled it around in her hand. “I think Robert and I should spend the night here. What do you think?”
I'm a tough woman, I didn't need anyone to play bodyguard, did I?
My voice quivered as I bravely responded, “Sure, I'd love that.”
THIRTY-SIX
* * * *
After weeks of holiday shopping, baking and wrapping presents, I never cease to be amazed that Christmas itself feels as if it lasts all of ten seconds. It was kind of weird having my mother and Bradford staying at the house for the three-day weekend, but the kids enjoyed all of the attention and presents. And I liked having extra elves to help with kitchen duty.
Since I had no clue what to get Bradford for Christmas, Mother had mentioned he enjoyed reading historical novels. Books n’ Bears recommended local author Naida West, and Bradford was thrilled with my gift of her Gold Country trilogy. I was thrilled no more unidentified packages arrived on my doorstep.
Before I knew it, the day after Christmas arrived. Based on the stacks of multicolored ads falling out of my daily newspaper, this day was being marketed with more fervor than the main event, the birth of Jesus.
But who was I to complain? I'd leafed through the glossy ads in the morning paper even before my first cup of coffee. With Christmas falling on a Sunday, the bank was closed on the twenty-sixth. I piled the kids in the car and spent the day dragging them from one post-Christmas sale to another.
My first bargain coup was a pair of fluffy emerald green Grinch slippers marked down to $3.99. How could I possibly pass them up? Jenna decided she could live without a matching pair of Grinch slippers. She chose a tunic top in a shade of rust that matched her hair. Ben was willing to settle for Spiderman pajamas and a chunk of discounted peppermint bark to munch on while we finished our shopping.
The three of us entered Folsom Fabulous Footwear to check out their two-for-one shoe sale. Several feet of new snow had fallen in Tahoe and I needed a new pair of boots before we drove up to the mountains for the wedding. As I rounded the corner of one of the aisles in the boot section, I ran into a dance student from the Golden Hills Studio.
“Hi, Laurel,” Paula said as she zipped up a tall black stiletto-heeled boot. “Did you have a nice Christmas?”
“It was great. Say, those are attractive,” I remarked, admiring the etched design at the top of the boot. She stood and paced up and down the aisle, her smile reversing into a frown by the time she returned to her chair.
“They look great but they don't feel great.” She slid the leather boot off and flexed her left foot in my direction. “It's difficult finding anything wide enough for my bunions. One of the hazards of ballroom dancing. They keep growing larger.”
So now I had that to look forward to. Bigger bunions. It was a good thing my career in ballroom dancing would be over in less than five days.
“Are you still performing in the Holiday Ball?” I asked.
She nodded. “Boris and I are dancing together but as soon as this competition is over, I'm switching to another studio. I don't feel safe there.”
“I saw Boris in Placerville the other day, shopping for camping gear. He said he was spending a few days at his cabin in Tahoe. He even invited me to go skiing with him.”
Paula burst out laughing at my expression, which must have reflected how thrilled I was with the studio owner's invitation.
“Boris is quite an accomplished skier. Did you know that years ago he won an Olympic medal for the winter biathlon?”
“What on earth is that? Dancing while skiing?”
She chuckled. “Now that would be some event. No, the biathlon incorporates downhill skiing with rifle shooting.”
I shuddered. Had the studio owner invited me for a little night skiing in order to get rid of me? Permanently? Or was my imagination careening out of control?
Paula opened the lid of another box and lifted a suede boot out of the tissue. “How's the wedding dance coming? Do you need to find a place to rehearse?”
“Once Liz found out Yuri was poisoned, she decided it wasn't safe for us at the studio. Her exact words were,” I made two air quotes above my head, “'What if someone in the bridal party is poisoned? It would bloody well screw up my wedding.'”
Paula chuckled. “Sounds like the bride is focused on one thing only.”
“You've got that right. I can't wait for Brian to slide that gold band around her ring finger so they can sail off into the sunset.”
Paula lifted an inquiring brow. “Sail? This time of year?”
“Their honeymoon is a Hawaiian cruise.”
“That sounds lovely. Richard and I spent our honeymoon on a Mediterranean cruise. In fact, our anniversary is coming up next month. Five blissful years. Speaking of my husband...”
A tall, handsome silver-haired man approached. His blue eyes twinkled as he gave me a hearty handshake.
“Nice to meet you, Laurel. Will you be performing at the Holiday Ball as well?” When I shook my head, he inquired whether I was going to watch any of the events.
“Anyone can watch the competition,” Paula explained when I looked confused. “You can buy tickets to view different events. The evening performances are kind of pricey, but that's because the pros are performing. On New Year's Eve, Bobby and Tatania are dancing in the Rising Star event and Anya and Marcus will be competing against some world famous professional couples.” Paula reached into her oversized designer purse, pulled out a bright pink flyer and handed it to me.
“I much prefer watching ballroom to dancing it myself but the wedding is that evening.” I glanced at the flyer. “Hey, the competition is at the Royal Tahoe Resort. That's where Liz is getting married. In fact, I'll be driving up on the thirtieth for the rehearsal.”
“How perfect. My scholarship event is that afternoon,” she said. “Maybe you can stop by for a few minutes. I guess I'm the only amateur from Golden Hills competing this time. Dana was supposed to dance with Yuri, but...” Her voice trailed off.
I sighed. “It's horrible, isn't it? Dana must be beside herself with grief. I still can't imagine our bank president killing anyone, no matter how jealous he was.”
“It sounds to me like they've arrested the right person,” Richard said. “I was concerned about Paula being at the studio but with that Chandler fellow in jail, I can relax. My wife is too passionate about her dance to worry about her own safety.”
Paula smiled fondly at her husband. “Richard has all of these important clients to deal with and how does he spend his time? Worrying about me.”
“Are you an attorney?”
Richard made a face at the mention of the legal profession. “No, I own Mason Wealth Management. We're an investment banking firm.”
He reached into his pocket and handed me his business card. “You never know when you might need a good financial manager to help you with your portfolio.”
“My portfolio is barely large enough to keep my kitty supplied with cat food, but if Hangtown Bank needs to cut back on staff, I may be looking for a job. I'm a mortgage underwriter.”
“With your experience analyzing financial statements, you could easily transition into this end of the financial sector. We offer a full range of services to our clients, from stocks and bonds to commodities.”
Paula smiled at her husband. “Richard is the consummate salesman.”
“The financial markets can be difficult to gauge but we invested wisely in the commodities market and our clients are thrilled with their returns.” He put an arm around Paula. “My wife is a huge asset in the business.”
He turned to me. “And we're always looking for new talent.”
I smiled at Paula. “You'll be happy to hear that my underwriting skills are far superior to my ballroom dancing skills.”
She laughed. “Just keep practicing. By this time next year, you could be competing, too.”
Richard's gaze was proud as he looked down at Paula. “My wife is totally dedicated to her dance.”
She smiled affectionately at him. “And fortunately, Richard is totally dedicated to me.”
We said our good-byes as they headed for the register and I went in search of my kids. It was nice to see a couple who cared so much for each other. Someday, I too hoped to gaze fondly at my spouse, assuming a new spouse was in the picture for me. For right now, I would concentrate on gazing fondly at a new pair of boots, a far easier task.
A half hour later I was not only the owner of a pair of black mid-calf boots, but I had also found silver shoes to replace the broken pair still sitting in an evidence locker. They weren't as well crafted and lacked the suede soles of my old dance shoes, but they were considerably cheaper. Since I would be wearing them for less than eight hours during the wedding and reception, the cost was manageable. At least I only had one dance routine to worry about. I couldn't imagine worrying about multiple dance performances through several days of a ballroom competition.
I now knew that ballroom dancing was a stressful, competitive and potentially dangerous sport, particularly at the professional level. Female dancers often risked life and limb during complicated aerial lifts with their partners. Lack of sleep or concentration could result in a critical injury. Stress levels among the studio's professional dancers would be extraordinarily high during this competition.
It could be the perfect opportunity to find out more about the killer, although I had to be ultra careful.
The last thing I wanted was for my new shoes to also end up in an evidence locker.
THIRTY-SEVEN
* * * *
The next two days were a blur of activity. Even though Liz still had an occasional Bridezilla meltdown, she was realistic enough to realize that holding a shower, bachelorette party and a wedding during the holidays might be one too many festive events.
On Wednesday night, the two bridesmaids, my mother and I threw Liz a combined shower/bachelorette party at the Snooty Frog, just down the street from Mother's office. Michelle, the owner, whipped up an enormous batch of her smoked salmon tortellini alfredo. Between the to-die-for pasta, gallons of wine and a karaoke machine one of the bridesmaids thought would be a good idea, we had wonderful memories of Liz enjoying her last moments as a single gal.
Despite my protests, someone shoved the mike in my hands and I eked out a rendition of “I Will Survive” that hopefully would
not
survive nor go viral on You Tube. My mother and I stayed behind to clean up after the happy guests and bride-to-be departed.
“I didn't have a chance to tell you the latest news about Dana,” she said.
“Oh, no, what happened now?”
“The Board of the Hangtown Women's Guild asked her to step down from her position as president. It's a shame because she's done so much good for our community.”
I shoved the paper plates in the garbage bag. “I know life isn't fair, but that totally sucks.”
“I agree but there's nothing you can do about it. Just concentrate on enjoying the wedding weekend.”
I was planning on enjoying the wedding weekend. Especially once the wedding was over. But in the meantime, I was still concerned about Dana and Mr. Chandler, the bank, and well...me.
* * * *
Since my Prius was not equipped to haul three people, luggage, skis, and snowboards, Bradford and my mother decided to leave a day early and take the kids up to Tahoe on Thursday. The senior citizens agreed they would not cohabit in front of my kids so Mother would spend the night with Jenna, and Ben could hang out with his oversized pal.
With our fearless leader locked up, our mortgage division was overwhelmed with borrowers wanting to close by year end. Or maybe they wanted to ensure the bank still had the money to fund their loans.
Although the loan department was busy, the tellers spent far more time filing their nails than filing any paperwork. The gossip around the office was that significantly more money was flowing out of the bank than coming in. Numerous local merchants had either withdrawn substantial amounts of money or completely closed out their accounts.
Not only were new deposits absent, but so were our end of the year bonuses. Several employees grumbled, but considering the impact Mr. Chandler's arrest had on the future of the bank, we were lucky we were still employed.
I'd counted on receiving my own bonus by the thirtieth to offset the expenses of Christmas, the wedding, and our stay at the beautiful but not inexpensive Royal Tahoe resort. Liz had offered to pick up the tab for our hotel room but I refused. The hotel expense was the price one paid for friendship. I would do anything for my best friend, as evidenced by my tortuous dance lessons.
My phone rang in the middle of checking off underwriter conditions. “Laurel speaking,” I said, concentrating on getting the current loan file I was working on off my desk and over to the funding department.
“It's Dana.” Her voice caught as if she might break into sobs at any moment.
“How are you holding up?”
“Okay, I guess. Poor Gordon is still in jail. They haven't set bail yet. The boys are furious with me...” At the mention of her sons, a torrent of tears flooded the phone line.
Eventually she calmed a bit and got down to the reason for the call. “Tomas Novi said the bank is losing a ton of clients. I can't believe I created such a mess. Is there any chance we could meet?”
Since I still believed in Mr. Chandler's innocence I was more than happy to get together with Dana. With the kids at Tahoe my only task this evening was to pack. We agreed to meet at The Pantry as soon as I got off work. With reporters from local newspapers and national gossip magazines camped at her Victorian mansion in the hopes of snaring a story, it seemed safer to meet elsewhere. One rag had published an issue featuring a photo of Mr. Chandler being led into the courthouse for his arraignment. The title still burned my eyeballs:
Banker Bludgeons Bimbo's Boyfriend.
Dana might be many things, but she definitely wasn't a bimbo.
A little after five, I entered the coffee shop looking for the pretty, short-haired brunette. A platinum blonde with Gwen Stefani curls waved at me from one of the maroon leather-backed booths. Being the astute detective that I am, I headed in her direction.
