Romano and Albright 01 - Catch Me If You Can (MM) Read Free Page A

are some interested people on the second floor. You need to send Jean Luc upstairs.”
    “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
    Peter came in close, and I forced myself not to rear back. Had he reapplied his cologne with a goddamn ladle? My sinuses clogged with sandalwood and…my nose tingled. Was that Noxzema?
    Peter went on. “What a crowd. We’ll be in the art section on Sunday, I’m sure. Peter Stuhlmann Gallery art show a bust.”
    “I don’t think that’s actually the headline we want.”
    He clapped me on the shoulder, and I took a breath through my mouth. I let him continue congratulating himself—pretty much an established pattern of his. “We’ve done it. I’d give myself a raise, but that’s not necessary.”
    “You could always give me one.”
    “What’s wrong with your voice? You sound like Colleen Dewhurst.” The entourage tittered.
    “I had an incident.” I swallowed more gin. I needed to find a Perrier before I fell down. A waiter came by with a tray of chicken satay, which I declined. Peter took two. Armed with skewered poultry, he entered the North Salon brandishing his treats. He gave a hearty, “Ah-ha! There’s the man of the hour.”
    I really needed to keep those two from making a scene. From the corner of my eye I noticed Detective Dan swiping a crab-stuffed mushroom cap from a silver tray. Then the kitchen door swung and I caught a glimpse of silver-blonde hair. Poppy . She was in the kitchen, where she damn well belonged. I spun and banged through the door.
    Inside, the kitchen was a hive of activity. Waiters dumped glasses into the dishwasher and flew out of the swinging door brandishing refilled platters. Poppy frantically assembled hors d’oeuvres in decorative fantails on silver trays. Her platinum hair was neatly held in place by her customary headband—this one a soft periwinkle blue that matched both her dress and her eyes. In a white apron she looked deceptively innocent, like Alice in Wonderland.
    Brandon stood with the fridge door open rifling for something. He dug out a Diet Coke. Poppy’s assistant Rachel—I had no idea what she was doing, but it appeared she was hitting the warming oven with a wrench. She squawked. “Why won’t this goddamn thing work?”
    Poppy handed a tray off as another waiter came in and deposited an empty in the lineup. “I don’t know, but you’ve got to figure it out.”
    Rachel blew out a breath and opened the oven door. “I told you we needed a new one. Did you listen? No.” She turned the entire appliance around on its casters and contemplated the back thoughtfully. “Let’s just serve all the hot stuff at once and then finish with dessert.”
    “Then get your ass over here and start loading trays. You may have to serve too.”
    “Well, I’ll need to find some other shoes.” We all stared at her stacked four-inch Mary Janes. “These are a bit tall.”
    I elbowed Brandon aside and grabbed a Perrier. “Poppy.”
    She didn’t even pause. “Not fucking now, Ce, I’m busy. You’re so lucky I love you, because this is insane. No more freebies. Unless you’re stripping down to serve?” She stopped cold and shot me a cunning smile. “You know, you could. You’re tight. Who doesn’t like a good-looking paesan with a little chest hair? And that would be a huge help. The warmer is done for and all this food will be cold before we can feed the masses. You didn’t tell me it was going to be a fucking crush.”
    The waiters were giving me a skeptical once-over. Rachel did as well. She eyed me cutely. Chesty and sweet, she reminded me of Betty Boop, more so when she opened her mouth. “Really? He seems scrawny. Take your shirt off, Ce. I wanna see your abs. We’re having a crisis and this could lighten the mood.”
    “No. What the hell is going on, Poppy? Shep’s here.”
    “You need to put the liquor down because he’s not here. He’s out celebrating. That pilot got picked up last week. Some…kid’s show or some