Unbreakable - Chapter One
Title: Unbreakable
Authors: bsg_aussiegirl and bugs
Summary: While out on the town, murder finds the Adamses!
Rating: T
Genre: AU, Adventure, Romance
A/N: For sln1, on the occasion of her birthday.
Chapter One:
Laura tried wedging her chunky bracelet into her adorable little clutch one more time. It wasn’t going to fit, not with her compact, comb, purse, and evening gloves.
“Bill, darling, could you keep this in your pocket for me?” She held out the piece of jewelry as she peered around the flower arrangement on the foyer’s table. Where were her driving gloves?
“Of course, Mrs Adams,” rumbled a deep voice at her shoulder.
Glancing up to the large mirror hanging over the table, she grinned at the man standing beside her. “Aren’t you handsome,” she said approvingly, turning to get the full view.
He glanced down at his evening wear. “In this monkey suit?” he said uncertainly.
She smoothed the tailored ivory dinner jacket over his wide shoulders. Just the right shade to complement his sun-burnt complexion, dark hair and vivid blue eyes. His hair was parted neatly down the middle and he’d obviously used a dab of Brylcreem to tame the waves. His face was smoothly shaven, with no sign of the mustache he had sported a few weeks ago.
With a bit of polish, Bill Adams was a handsome specimen, she admitted. However, without it, she found him to be even more attractive. It was his rustic appeal that had first caught her eye.
“Yes, this fits you perfectly,” she murmured, straightening his black bow tie.
He was still unsure. “Never had more than two suits in my whole life,” he muttered. “Brown and blue one.”
She dropped a peck on his cheek. “Thank you for humoring your bride.”
“Gotta dress right to go to these swell places, I guess,” he mused, but he was onto a new subject. He carefully examined her bracelet. “Not what I’d expect you to wear out on the town. Not one of your sparkles?”
The bracelet was a set of large linked silver squares, each covered with intricate designs and odd characters.
Adjusting the lush fox collar of her evening coat in the mirror, she raised her eyebrows at him. “Sparkles? Have you been hanging out with gangsters?”
He only grinned back. “You’ll never know.”
She looked at the bracelet too. “I was in Chinatown to pick up Elosha this tonic she takes. From one of those dark little shops with the bearded Oriental man behind the counter. You know the sort.”
She blinked at the memory. Had it just been three weeks ago? So much had happened in those three weeks. A few days after acquiring the bracelet, she was rescued by a rugged sailor on the docks, and a week later, she’d married him after an impulsive drive up to Reno.
Bill raised one of his thick dark brows in reply. “Elosha, the voodoo priestess, needs Chinese medicine?”
Laura glanced quickly to the high plastered ceiling, in the direction of the sewing room where her old nanny, now lady’s maid, was repairing a torn skirt hem. “Hush, Bill! Don’t call her that!”
“She’s from New Orleans, she wears that turban...I’ve docked in that city more than once. I know that type of woman when I see her.”
“Has a priestess put a spell on you?” Laura asked playfully as she finally found her gloves in the table’s drawer and pulled them on.
He gathered her close, pushed his nose through the thick fur to nuzzle her neck. “Most definitely,” he rasped.
Breathless, she stepped toward the door to the garage. “It’s such a pleasant evening,” she said. “I thought we might put the top down.”
Bill slipped into his overcoat, snapped his fedora to a sharp angle, and followed her. “We’re taking one of the motorcars?”
“The Rolls town car; it has room for all of us. It seems that Ellen Tigh might appreciate it. I doubt anything could be too ostentatious for her.”
Laura had met Ellen Tigh only that morning, in the tea room at the Tigh’s hotel, the Mark Hopkins. The woman had just arrived from a mysterious sojourn to the Orient, finally joining her husband. Laura still hadn’t ascertained why Bill’s best friend’s wife had been abroad rather than settled in a home, waiting for her husband to return from sea.
But within a few minutes of meeting her, Laura secretly, or not so secretly perhaps, wished she would sail off again, sensing life would much more pleasant without the blonde woman’s presence it. And how could a merchant marine afford to live at such an opulent hotel?
“Maybe you and Ellen will get along better tonight. I know she can be a bit much, but she’s probably intimidated by your wealth.”
“Which you are not, right?” said Laura, looping her arm through his.
He changed the subject. “It is a nice night; no fog. Why don’t we stroll down to Van Ness and grab the cable car?”
She smiled. Bill was so obvious. “William Adams, it’s 1939. I think it’s time you stopped being scared of driving; automobiles are not a fad.”
“Ever thought I might just be scared of your driving?” he mumbled, but nevertheless conceded defeat by clambering into one of the vehicles.
Instead of taking the driver’s seat, she tapped on his window. After about another minute of struggling, he eventually wound the window down, and gave her an enquiring look.
“Darling, the Rolls, remember? This is the Hudson.”
He pushed open the door and stood beside her. She grinned as he hovered. “The black one,” she said, putting him out of his misery.
He chuckled as they got into the Rolls. “At least you know I didn’t marry you for your collection of automobiles.”
She hummed and laughed again to herself when she saw him immediately grip onto the door handle with one hand and brace the other against the polished walnut dashboard as she pressed the automatic starter.
As she lowered the top and pulled out of the garage, she decided to give it a bit too much gas when rounding the corners on the way to the Tighs’ hotel.
*
Ellen Tigh had insisted the Number One Lychee Club was the place to be seen this season; the crush of patrons waiting to enter would suggest she was right. A looming greeter in a shiny silver dinner jacket parted the crowd for a society page regular like Laura Roslin.
As the coat check girl waited, Bill politely removed Laura’s coat and she heard him hiss in her ear as he appreciated her choice. She smiled smugly at his reaction, having deliberately avoided showing Bill her gown until this moment.
It was a sheath of red satin, flowing closely over her body to the toes of her silver sandals. Even though the neckline was modest, the back was bare to the dip of her back, making it obvious she wore no undergarments. Silver threads woven in the fabric caught the club’s muted lights, making her shimmer with her every breath.
“You’re showing a lot of skin, Mrs Adams.”
“I didn’t know you were adverse to such a thing, Mr Adams,” she retorted as she pulled on her long white gloves, covering her bare arms to her elbow. “Better?” she asked with an arch of her eyebrow.
Bill just gave her his usual enigmatic smile, nestled a hand possessively on her back and followed their escort down the stairs toward a prominent table beside the dance floor.
Behind them, Laura heard Ellen quarreling with Saul about removing her coat for her. “That’s what the girl’s for!” Saul grumbled.
She smiled up at Bill as she sank into the chair he held out for her.
The other couple finally made their way to the table. Saul flopped into a chair, ignoring his wife pointedly standing by hers. A waiter rushed forward to hold it out for Ellen Tigh. The blonde barked at him: “We need a bottle of champagne!” She smirked across the table at Laura. “The most expensive. Money is no objective, is it, sweetie?”
“No,” Laura replied through gritted teeth. “Of course not. Could I start with a martini?” she told the waiter, a bit desperate feeling.
“I’ll have a Tom Collins, please,” Bill said.
“Oh, Laura and Bill, you’re so boring. The rich only drink champagne,” Ellen informed them.
“We certainly have a lot to celebrate and toasts will be in order!” Saul Tigh said.
Both the Tighs looked like they had been celebrating from about lunch time to Laura. Every small comment made by Ellen made Saul cackle with laughter. His eyes rested on his wife every few minutes with a look that told all and sundry he thought Ellen Tigh was the wittiest woman in the world.
Ellen, in turn, continued with her hilarious anecdotes at a pace that had become ad nauseam to Laura within the first ten minutes of their drive.
The waiter and waitress arrived with the champagne in a silver ice-filled bucket and a tray of glasses. “I’ll have a martini as well,” Ellen told the waitress after she’d finished filling the glasses. “I’m sure more than one drink at a time is allowed.”
Saul squeezed his wife’s thigh under the table. “Excellent idea!”
“Don’t you just love the atmosphere of this club?” Ellen added.
“The music’s good,” Bill said diplomatically, glancing over at the bandstand where the shiny instruments glinted in the glowing lights, bright as the loud jazz beat.
Despite there others’ lack of interest, Ellen kept talking. “All the small touches.”
“Small touches?” said Laura.
“The wait staff for a start,” Ellen replied enthusiastically. “The owner had them all imported from the East so they’re authentic.”
“Imported?” Laura asked, her top lip twitching.
“Yes. I’m sure they must be so grateful. Makes them work hard, not like locals.”
“Yes. I’m sure.” Laura was also sure that her sarcastic tone went straight over Ellen’s head.
“Oh! There’s the owner. Hello!” Ellen called out loudly and waved her arm around in the air. “Jonathan!”
She hoarsely whispered to her party, “He’s a friend.”
A short man speaking to the party at another table raised his head and nodded at Ellen. He excused himself and made his way through the tables. His appearance was overly flamboyant for an Occidental. He wore a black silk tunic that hung to his knees over black silk pants. He displayed excessive jewelry: a chunky gold watch, several dark onyx rings, gold chains around his neck and wrists.
When he reached the table, Laura saw that he was at least seventy years old, his short-cropped hair obviously dyed black, but his face was deeply lined.
Seeing his jewelry reminded her to ask Bill for her bracelet. He pulled it from his pocket. Thanking him, she fiddled awkwardly with one hand to secure the clasp.
“Here, allow me,” Bill said, leaning over to help her.
Jonathan had been exchanging low pleasantries with Ellen Tigh while Saul watched, looking put upon. The dapper man’s gaze fell on Laura’s bracelet. “That’s a beautiful piece of jewelry,” he said, his voice oozing like an oil leak on her favorite car.
“It is,” Ellen agreed. “Here, Bill, let me. You men are completely clueless when it comes to feminine accessories.” She wiggled closer to Laura on her chair.
Ellen must have been drunker than Laura thought. Instead of doing up the bracelet, she yanked it off, making Laura wince with pain. She held it up on the end of her finger.
“It matches the atmosphere here, Laura darling,” Ellen said as she studied the markings on the silver links.
“Yes,” Jonathan agreed. “Very Oriental.”
“True,” Laura conceded. “I come by it in an Eastern tea shop.”
Ellen continued to study the bracelet. “A smoky little store in a back alley with a tiny Chinaman trading his wares?” She and Jonathan exchanged looks.
“Something like that. May I put it back on?” Laura asked pointedly.
“Oh. Oh, yes, darling.” Ellen clipped up the bracelet onto Laura’s right wrist with much flourish. “And here’s our cocktails!” she said brightly.
A new waitress, a young woman in a red silk high-collared dress with a black dragon embroidered across her chest, her black hair in a bun with chopsticks poking out, carefully placed the two wide-mouthed glasses before the ladies.
“This is Sharon,” Jonathan said. “My most trusted hostess. Don’t hesitate to let her or myself know if there’s anything else you need tonight. It’s a great honor to have you here, Miss Roslin.”
Laura didn’t bother correcting the owner regarding her surname. She would prefer if he, and his intense gaze that settled upon her every few moments, didn’t loiter any more than was absolutely necessary. She glanced over at her husband and they shared a look of understanding before the moment was shattered with Saul’s enthusiastic voice.
“A toast! To the two most beautiful broads in the universe!”
Even as Laura winced, she felt Bill’s chuckle rumble beside her. “Well that I can almost agree on,” he murmured.
*
The jazz band beat out music in two-part rhythm, the tabletop candles wiggled in time, lighting the smoky nightclub. Still, Bill was dissatisfied. “Baby, there’s a juke joint down Highway One, near Pacifica.”
His redhead, his damn lovely redhead, turned her gaze upon him. “We’re here because your best friend’s wife wanted to go somewhere...what did she say?” When Laura tipped her head, that russet mane slid off one shoulder, baring the ivory skin and Bill had to remind himself he’d only been married for a week, so staring at her like a starving lion in a roadside attraction was allowed.
“Classy,” she said triumphantly.
They watched Saul and Ellen, plastered together and plastered, wander around the dance floor to their own particular tune.
Laura leaned close, her scent and hair twining in his nostrils. “Baby? I told you not to call me that on date number two.”
He grinned, eyes downcast. “Sorry, still learning. Considering we got married on date number three.”
“You’re a fast learner.” Her delicate fingers appeared to straighten his tie, but she was actually pulling the ends slightly, unknotting it. In a flash of his mind’s eye, he was in their bedroom, sliding the zipper down on the silken confection she called a gown --
“Did we get lucky or what!?” Saul was at his other shoulder, bellowing over the music.
“Yeah.” Bill kept his eyes on his wife. He had to get his hands on her now. “Dance with me?”
They found a shadow to nestle in, moving in their own rhythm too.
“Maybe we should call it a night?” Bill said when she pivoted so her hip pressed into his groin.
The band’s tune wound down, until the saxophone was the last note standing, long and mournful.
Suddenly, a scream matched that note.
Bill pulled Laura closer into his protective embrace. “What the hell?”
Saul hunched over a long-limbed body draped across their table, their glasses overturned. “Ellen, Ellen!” he cried out.
A burly man pushed his way through the crowd. He checked Ellen’s pulse and pulled back her eyelids. He looked up at Saul. “I’m sorry son, she’s gone.”
“Gone!?” Saul’s strangled voice rattled the glasses on the table.
Bill automatically moved to comfort his friend and Laura sank into one of the chairs at their table, her eyes round with shock. She fumbled for her drink, needing something to settle her nerves.
The stranger studied Ellen’s body again, and then sniffed at her agape mouth.
“Bitter almonds,” the man said to no one in particular.
He rose to his feet and, for a man of his obvious age, reached across the table with lightning speed. He knocked the glass from Laura’s lips. “Don’t drink that, young lady!” he ordered sharply. “She’s been poisoned.”
End, Chapter One
Authors: bsg_aussiegirl and bugs
Summary: While out on the town, murder finds the Adamses!
Rating: T
Genre: AU, Adventure, Romance
A/N: For sln1, on the occasion of her birthday.
Chapter One:
Laura tried wedging her chunky bracelet into her adorable little clutch one more time. It wasn’t going to fit, not with her compact, comb, purse, and evening gloves.
“Bill, darling, could you keep this in your pocket for me?” She held out the piece of jewelry as she peered around the flower arrangement on the foyer’s table. Where were her driving gloves?
“Of course, Mrs Adams,” rumbled a deep voice at her shoulder.
Glancing up to the large mirror hanging over the table, she grinned at the man standing beside her. “Aren’t you handsome,” she said approvingly, turning to get the full view.
He glanced down at his evening wear. “In this monkey suit?” he said uncertainly.
She smoothed the tailored ivory dinner jacket over his wide shoulders. Just the right shade to complement his sun-burnt complexion, dark hair and vivid blue eyes. His hair was parted neatly down the middle and he’d obviously used a dab of Brylcreem to tame the waves. His face was smoothly shaven, with no sign of the mustache he had sported a few weeks ago.
With a bit of polish, Bill Adams was a handsome specimen, she admitted. However, without it, she found him to be even more attractive. It was his rustic appeal that had first caught her eye.
“Yes, this fits you perfectly,” she murmured, straightening his black bow tie.
He was still unsure. “Never had more than two suits in my whole life,” he muttered. “Brown and blue one.”
She dropped a peck on his cheek. “Thank you for humoring your bride.”
“Gotta dress right to go to these swell places, I guess,” he mused, but he was onto a new subject. He carefully examined her bracelet. “Not what I’d expect you to wear out on the town. Not one of your sparkles?”
The bracelet was a set of large linked silver squares, each covered with intricate designs and odd characters.
Adjusting the lush fox collar of her evening coat in the mirror, she raised her eyebrows at him. “Sparkles? Have you been hanging out with gangsters?”
He only grinned back. “You’ll never know.”
She looked at the bracelet too. “I was in Chinatown to pick up Elosha this tonic she takes. From one of those dark little shops with the bearded Oriental man behind the counter. You know the sort.”
She blinked at the memory. Had it just been three weeks ago? So much had happened in those three weeks. A few days after acquiring the bracelet, she was rescued by a rugged sailor on the docks, and a week later, she’d married him after an impulsive drive up to Reno.
Bill raised one of his thick dark brows in reply. “Elosha, the voodoo priestess, needs Chinese medicine?”
Laura glanced quickly to the high plastered ceiling, in the direction of the sewing room where her old nanny, now lady’s maid, was repairing a torn skirt hem. “Hush, Bill! Don’t call her that!”
“She’s from New Orleans, she wears that turban...I’ve docked in that city more than once. I know that type of woman when I see her.”
“Has a priestess put a spell on you?” Laura asked playfully as she finally found her gloves in the table’s drawer and pulled them on.
He gathered her close, pushed his nose through the thick fur to nuzzle her neck. “Most definitely,” he rasped.
Breathless, she stepped toward the door to the garage. “It’s such a pleasant evening,” she said. “I thought we might put the top down.”
Bill slipped into his overcoat, snapped his fedora to a sharp angle, and followed her. “We’re taking one of the motorcars?”
“The Rolls town car; it has room for all of us. It seems that Ellen Tigh might appreciate it. I doubt anything could be too ostentatious for her.”
Laura had met Ellen Tigh only that morning, in the tea room at the Tigh’s hotel, the Mark Hopkins. The woman had just arrived from a mysterious sojourn to the Orient, finally joining her husband. Laura still hadn’t ascertained why Bill’s best friend’s wife had been abroad rather than settled in a home, waiting for her husband to return from sea.
But within a few minutes of meeting her, Laura secretly, or not so secretly perhaps, wished she would sail off again, sensing life would much more pleasant without the blonde woman’s presence it. And how could a merchant marine afford to live at such an opulent hotel?
“Maybe you and Ellen will get along better tonight. I know she can be a bit much, but she’s probably intimidated by your wealth.”
“Which you are not, right?” said Laura, looping her arm through his.
He changed the subject. “It is a nice night; no fog. Why don’t we stroll down to Van Ness and grab the cable car?”
She smiled. Bill was so obvious. “William Adams, it’s 1939. I think it’s time you stopped being scared of driving; automobiles are not a fad.”
“Ever thought I might just be scared of your driving?” he mumbled, but nevertheless conceded defeat by clambering into one of the vehicles.
Instead of taking the driver’s seat, she tapped on his window. After about another minute of struggling, he eventually wound the window down, and gave her an enquiring look.
“Darling, the Rolls, remember? This is the Hudson.”
He pushed open the door and stood beside her. She grinned as he hovered. “The black one,” she said, putting him out of his misery.
He chuckled as they got into the Rolls. “At least you know I didn’t marry you for your collection of automobiles.”
She hummed and laughed again to herself when she saw him immediately grip onto the door handle with one hand and brace the other against the polished walnut dashboard as she pressed the automatic starter.
As she lowered the top and pulled out of the garage, she decided to give it a bit too much gas when rounding the corners on the way to the Tighs’ hotel.
*
Ellen Tigh had insisted the Number One Lychee Club was the place to be seen this season; the crush of patrons waiting to enter would suggest she was right. A looming greeter in a shiny silver dinner jacket parted the crowd for a society page regular like Laura Roslin.
As the coat check girl waited, Bill politely removed Laura’s coat and she heard him hiss in her ear as he appreciated her choice. She smiled smugly at his reaction, having deliberately avoided showing Bill her gown until this moment.
It was a sheath of red satin, flowing closely over her body to the toes of her silver sandals. Even though the neckline was modest, the back was bare to the dip of her back, making it obvious she wore no undergarments. Silver threads woven in the fabric caught the club’s muted lights, making her shimmer with her every breath.
“You’re showing a lot of skin, Mrs Adams.”
“I didn’t know you were adverse to such a thing, Mr Adams,” she retorted as she pulled on her long white gloves, covering her bare arms to her elbow. “Better?” she asked with an arch of her eyebrow.
Bill just gave her his usual enigmatic smile, nestled a hand possessively on her back and followed their escort down the stairs toward a prominent table beside the dance floor.
Behind them, Laura heard Ellen quarreling with Saul about removing her coat for her. “That’s what the girl’s for!” Saul grumbled.
She smiled up at Bill as she sank into the chair he held out for her.
The other couple finally made their way to the table. Saul flopped into a chair, ignoring his wife pointedly standing by hers. A waiter rushed forward to hold it out for Ellen Tigh. The blonde barked at him: “We need a bottle of champagne!” She smirked across the table at Laura. “The most expensive. Money is no objective, is it, sweetie?”
“No,” Laura replied through gritted teeth. “Of course not. Could I start with a martini?” she told the waiter, a bit desperate feeling.
“I’ll have a Tom Collins, please,” Bill said.
“Oh, Laura and Bill, you’re so boring. The rich only drink champagne,” Ellen informed them.
“We certainly have a lot to celebrate and toasts will be in order!” Saul Tigh said.
Both the Tighs looked like they had been celebrating from about lunch time to Laura. Every small comment made by Ellen made Saul cackle with laughter. His eyes rested on his wife every few minutes with a look that told all and sundry he thought Ellen Tigh was the wittiest woman in the world.
Ellen, in turn, continued with her hilarious anecdotes at a pace that had become ad nauseam to Laura within the first ten minutes of their drive.
The waiter and waitress arrived with the champagne in a silver ice-filled bucket and a tray of glasses. “I’ll have a martini as well,” Ellen told the waitress after she’d finished filling the glasses. “I’m sure more than one drink at a time is allowed.”
Saul squeezed his wife’s thigh under the table. “Excellent idea!”
“Don’t you just love the atmosphere of this club?” Ellen added.
“The music’s good,” Bill said diplomatically, glancing over at the bandstand where the shiny instruments glinted in the glowing lights, bright as the loud jazz beat.
Despite there others’ lack of interest, Ellen kept talking. “All the small touches.”
“Small touches?” said Laura.
“The wait staff for a start,” Ellen replied enthusiastically. “The owner had them all imported from the East so they’re authentic.”
“Imported?” Laura asked, her top lip twitching.
“Yes. I’m sure they must be so grateful. Makes them work hard, not like locals.”
“Yes. I’m sure.” Laura was also sure that her sarcastic tone went straight over Ellen’s head.
“Oh! There’s the owner. Hello!” Ellen called out loudly and waved her arm around in the air. “Jonathan!”
She hoarsely whispered to her party, “He’s a friend.”
A short man speaking to the party at another table raised his head and nodded at Ellen. He excused himself and made his way through the tables. His appearance was overly flamboyant for an Occidental. He wore a black silk tunic that hung to his knees over black silk pants. He displayed excessive jewelry: a chunky gold watch, several dark onyx rings, gold chains around his neck and wrists.
When he reached the table, Laura saw that he was at least seventy years old, his short-cropped hair obviously dyed black, but his face was deeply lined.
Seeing his jewelry reminded her to ask Bill for her bracelet. He pulled it from his pocket. Thanking him, she fiddled awkwardly with one hand to secure the clasp.
“Here, allow me,” Bill said, leaning over to help her.
Jonathan had been exchanging low pleasantries with Ellen Tigh while Saul watched, looking put upon. The dapper man’s gaze fell on Laura’s bracelet. “That’s a beautiful piece of jewelry,” he said, his voice oozing like an oil leak on her favorite car.
“It is,” Ellen agreed. “Here, Bill, let me. You men are completely clueless when it comes to feminine accessories.” She wiggled closer to Laura on her chair.
Ellen must have been drunker than Laura thought. Instead of doing up the bracelet, she yanked it off, making Laura wince with pain. She held it up on the end of her finger.
“It matches the atmosphere here, Laura darling,” Ellen said as she studied the markings on the silver links.
“Yes,” Jonathan agreed. “Very Oriental.”
“True,” Laura conceded. “I come by it in an Eastern tea shop.”
Ellen continued to study the bracelet. “A smoky little store in a back alley with a tiny Chinaman trading his wares?” She and Jonathan exchanged looks.
“Something like that. May I put it back on?” Laura asked pointedly.
“Oh. Oh, yes, darling.” Ellen clipped up the bracelet onto Laura’s right wrist with much flourish. “And here’s our cocktails!” she said brightly.
A new waitress, a young woman in a red silk high-collared dress with a black dragon embroidered across her chest, her black hair in a bun with chopsticks poking out, carefully placed the two wide-mouthed glasses before the ladies.
“This is Sharon,” Jonathan said. “My most trusted hostess. Don’t hesitate to let her or myself know if there’s anything else you need tonight. It’s a great honor to have you here, Miss Roslin.”
Laura didn’t bother correcting the owner regarding her surname. She would prefer if he, and his intense gaze that settled upon her every few moments, didn’t loiter any more than was absolutely necessary. She glanced over at her husband and they shared a look of understanding before the moment was shattered with Saul’s enthusiastic voice.
“A toast! To the two most beautiful broads in the universe!”
Even as Laura winced, she felt Bill’s chuckle rumble beside her. “Well that I can almost agree on,” he murmured.
*
The jazz band beat out music in two-part rhythm, the tabletop candles wiggled in time, lighting the smoky nightclub. Still, Bill was dissatisfied. “Baby, there’s a juke joint down Highway One, near Pacifica.”
His redhead, his damn lovely redhead, turned her gaze upon him. “We’re here because your best friend’s wife wanted to go somewhere...what did she say?” When Laura tipped her head, that russet mane slid off one shoulder, baring the ivory skin and Bill had to remind himself he’d only been married for a week, so staring at her like a starving lion in a roadside attraction was allowed.
“Classy,” she said triumphantly.
They watched Saul and Ellen, plastered together and plastered, wander around the dance floor to their own particular tune.
Laura leaned close, her scent and hair twining in his nostrils. “Baby? I told you not to call me that on date number two.”
He grinned, eyes downcast. “Sorry, still learning. Considering we got married on date number three.”
“You’re a fast learner.” Her delicate fingers appeared to straighten his tie, but she was actually pulling the ends slightly, unknotting it. In a flash of his mind’s eye, he was in their bedroom, sliding the zipper down on the silken confection she called a gown --
“Did we get lucky or what!?” Saul was at his other shoulder, bellowing over the music.
“Yeah.” Bill kept his eyes on his wife. He had to get his hands on her now. “Dance with me?”
They found a shadow to nestle in, moving in their own rhythm too.
“Maybe we should call it a night?” Bill said when she pivoted so her hip pressed into his groin.
The band’s tune wound down, until the saxophone was the last note standing, long and mournful.
Suddenly, a scream matched that note.
Bill pulled Laura closer into his protective embrace. “What the hell?”
Saul hunched over a long-limbed body draped across their table, their glasses overturned. “Ellen, Ellen!” he cried out.
A burly man pushed his way through the crowd. He checked Ellen’s pulse and pulled back her eyelids. He looked up at Saul. “I’m sorry son, she’s gone.”
“Gone!?” Saul’s strangled voice rattled the glasses on the table.
Bill automatically moved to comfort his friend and Laura sank into one of the chairs at their table, her eyes round with shock. She fumbled for her drink, needing something to settle her nerves.
The stranger studied Ellen’s body again, and then sniffed at her agape mouth.
“Bitter almonds,” the man said to no one in particular.
He rose to his feet and, for a man of his obvious age, reached across the table with lightning speed. He knocked the glass from Laura’s lips. “Don’t drink that, young lady!” he ordered sharply. “She’s been poisoned.”
End, Chapter One