Alex Ames - Calendar Moonstone 02 - Brilliant Actors Read Free

rows and rows of round dinner tables and backless benches, now filling up again. The catering staff had removed the decorations and dining utensils, so the space had the feel of a monastery. A group of uniformed police officers pointed us toward the middle of the tent space. A steady, low noise level of murmuring reminded me of a beehive. I saw Nicole sitting together with the Newmarks, laughing at the situation, and I walked over
    “Isn’t that something, a drug raid?” Nicole said after quick introductions with handshakes and mutual admirations. She was clearly enjoying the commotion.  
    “This feels like a class trip,” I replied.  
    “As long as I will be invited to the ten-year reunion,” she replied, gave Rip a quick sexual look-over.  
    An officer came along and shooed us toward an empty table. “No groups, please. Please be seated. “
    At the far end of the tent, the police had canvassed off an area for processing. The stations were hidden behind makeshift curtains, formerly used to conceal the food preparations. DEA agents with their letters in bright yellow on the back of their black windbreakers handled lab equipment while other police personnel picked up guests and led them to the different compartments. Whatever was going down here, it was not a spontaneous thing but well-prepared.
    Our host Swan Collins made the rounds among her guests, explaining the situation and apologizing for the inconvenience. She stepped up to our table and gave us all a collective nod before confirming some of the rumors. “Yes, they have found some drugs in the bathrooms—coke, weed, and ecstasy pills, I heard. My house, the pharmacy! A terrible thing, but I beg you to support the officers.” We all were sympathetic to her and nodded dutifully. Swan thanked us all and walked over to the next table, where she repeated her spiel.
    I was just starting to comment on her poise and strength in this harrowing situation when we heard an ear-splitting scream some table rows to the left. “My jewels, my jewels, oh, my jewels!” A small commotion broke out, and some officers hurried over to clear up the matter. We craned our necks again.
    “It’s Pretty McAllister,” Rip said excitedly. “She looks devastated … and naked around her neck.”
    “Jesus, she had a Van Winkel necklace on her,” I said, putting my hands over my mouth. “I noticed it when she was presenting the ‘original script’ Oscar tonight. A stunning piece, must be worth a heck of a lot of money.”
    “First drugs, now a necklace, what’s next? A stabbed actor in the library? This is beginning to feel like a scene from an Agatha Christie movie,” Rip complained.
    When the commotion cleared, Pretty McAllister, the famous TV-star-turned-movie-actress, twenty-five years, blonde and blue-eyed was crying at her seat with her hands over her face. Her current boyfriend, John Berg, ex-hubby of Nicole Berg, was holding her. The life of the rich and famous was a soap opera itself.
    Minutes later, the loudspeaker voice rose again. “Hem. This is Officer Graver again. It seems that a guest has been robbed of her diamond necklace. The value is over one million dollars, so we consider this a very serious issue.” A mix of low murmurs, loud laughs, and some shrieks of jewelry-minded ladies erupted. “We will search each one of you anyway, so the necklace should turn up if one of you is actually the thief. Mrs. McAllister is here to identify the piece on the spot.” Officer Graves was standing at the narrow end of the tent on the small stage that had held the dinner jazz band earlier on. “Anyone willing to surrender the necklace immediately? It is too big to swallow!” he asked in another bombed attempt at humor. No volunteers.
      “This could be a long night,” Rip said, turning around on our bench and leaning against the table. “I wonder if they will reopen the bar.” The proceedings went steady but slowly—table by table, person by person, officers