Murder of a Creped Suzette

“This is your opportunity to cash in on all the tourists I’ll be bringing into the area with my theater,” Rex continued. “I’ve already arranged for several country music stars to perform here, and for numerous travel companies to schedule their buses to stop here during the summer vacation season.”

Skye flinched. Oh, oh! Now even some of the frown-ers looked interested.

“I’ll be making appointments to talk to each and every one of you privately in order to advise you about the types of businesses you might want to open that would attract sightseers.” Rex made eye contact with everyone present before saying, “The first ones on the gravy train will make the most money. Make sure you’re not one of the people who only catches the caboose.”

All around the room, voices were raised and arguments erupted. Two men were already on their feet, fists clenched. Skye started to go into the office, but stopped in her tracks. There was nothing she could do or say to influence anyone’s opinion. Her uncle was obviously in full cahoots with Rex. The outcome of the music promoter’s plans was completely out of her hands. Skye’s only hope was that the people in the room who hadn’t drunk Rex’s Kool-Aid would continue to abstain.

Discouraged, she went to find Wally. The brunch he had in mind had better offer something stronger than champagne.

For once, I-55 wasn’t under construction, and it was a pleasant drive north to the restaurant Wally had chosen. He entertained Skye with stories about some of the funnier arrests from the previous night’s drunken revelries, and she, in turn, filled him in on the scenes she had witnessed on the way to the parking lot.

When they reached I-355 and the more intense traffic, Wally grew quiet, fully focused on the highway. He handled his car, a sky blue Thunderbird convertible that had been a fortieth-birthday gift from his wealthy father, with calm confidence.

Skye gazed at Wally’s handsome profile, lost in her own thoughts. She needed to talk to him about Suzette and the meeting she had witnessed in Dante’s office, but didn’t want to distract Wally from the road, so she remained quiet until they arrived at the restaurant.

The Clubhouse was located next to Oak Brook Mall, a fashionable shopping area on the outskirts of Chicago. The two-story redbrick building sported a bright green roof and black-and-beige-striped awnings.

As Wally pulled up to the valet stand and turned over his keys, he said to Skye, “I hope you’re hungry. I hear they have a spectacular brunch here.”

“Great. I’m starving.” Skye waited until he came around to open her door, then took his arm. “I slept in this morning, and didn’t have time to eat anything before church.”

“Did Bingo shut off the alarm again?” Wally asked as they strolled into the restaurant.

“No. I just got to bed so late last night that I couldn’t wake up.” Skye noticed the hostess waiting for Wally to claim their reservation. “Let’s get our table; then I’ll tell you all about it.”

The woman led them up a dramatic sweeping staircase, over a beautiful floor of dark and light wood in a checkerboard design, and to a half-moon area one step up from the rest of the room. On their way they passed several massive buffet tables loaded with everything from eggs Benedict to petits fours.

The hostess showed them to a secluded table covered in a pristine white tablecloth and laid with intricately folded napkins, gleaming silver, and sparkling crystal. She waited until they were seated side by side on the leather banquette, then handed Wally the wine list and gestured to their server, who was standing nearby.

Once their drink orders were taken, Wally turned to Skye. “What kept you up past your bedtime?”

“Not what, who. Suzette Neal.”

“The girl singer from the concert.” Wally wrinkled his forehead. “What did she want?”

“Me to solve a murder.”

“What?” Wally cocked a dark brow. “Someone was killed and no one told me?”

“Yeah, right.” Skye chuckled. “No, this happened before you joined the police force.”

“Well, that’s a load off my mind.” Wally pretended to slump in relief. “A cold case.”

They were silent as the server put their drinks in front of them and told them about the brunch.

After he left, Skye said, “Let’s get our first course; then I’ll tell you the rest.”

“Okay.” Wally grinned. “I know a hungry fiancée is a cranky fiancée.”

“You always say that, and it’s always not funny.” Skye slid from the booth and marched toward the seafood bar. Moments later they were back at the table with heaping plates full of spicy shrimp, boiled crab claws, and smoked salmon on toast points spread with cream cheese and topped with capers.

Before digging in, Wally asked, “Why did Suzette come to you?”

Between bites, Skye explained about the mysterious person who had told Suzette that Skye was the Scumble River Nancy Drew, ending with, “Of course, anyone who reads the paper could be the one who called me that.”

“Yep.” Wally licked a bit of cocktail sauce from his finger. “So tell me about the murder.”