Okay! For all of you who were wondering where the case part of this went, it's back!
"As I was saying, the craftsmanship on the china is stunning, Anne, I can't believe that they were made back in the 1700s!"
How do these people do it?
Alex was sitting in the middle of a gaggle of women discussing their host's inherited family china as if it was a miracle baby. The nature of the cooking party made the girls only atmosphere feel semi-normal, excepting that many of these women otherwise probably cooked about twice a year. Looking to her left at the women she was sure would be expecting an answer out of her soon, she straightened and did her best to hide her disinterest. Sure enough, immediately after she shifted positions the matriarch of the day's events turned her head the detective's way.
"So, Alex, I know you've only been in New York a few weeks, but have you found yourself comfortable here? I know the city is, well, different from Michigan."
She had prepared herself for those types of questions. The upper crust hardly ever let anyone into their circle easily, otherwise everything would get too "common"; screening for imposters was part of their life. Alex told herself to remember to kick Bobby for picking Michigan as their home state while saying, "It's all relative, I guess. I used to live here for a time as a young adult, working as a model…"
Model, she thought as she continued on with the story while the women hung on her every word for more information on the mysterious Alex Duvall, I'm about 5'3"…they can't be buying this.
"...but after traveling the world doing print in catalogs, I met Bobby…he was at one of the galas I attended. We had a whirlwind courtship which ended up with me married and in Michigan."
And the peanut gallery responded on cue.
"Oh, poor dear!"
"After all that life, stuck in Michigan!"
"At least he's a looker…"
"Was it worth it?"
"I think so," she said, trying to respond to everything at once. "Michigan after modeling was a bit stifling, so I decided to start my own agency…just to give me something to do until children or marriage caught me up again, but it really took off…I began to travel between the city and home more and more until Bobby said he couldn't deal with missing me anymore and told me we were moving to New York."
"He actually said that? That he really missed you enough to move away from his business?"
"Well, he just switched the operating hub to the city, but yes, he did leave the actual steel plants back in Michigan."
"Wow," the majority chorused in unison.
"He just left? Frank would never do that for me."
"I am so jealous!"
"Can you believe it, he missed her?"
"Is that even in a man's vocabulary?"
"She was a model?"
"With her height?"
Alex checked to see where the last comments came from, but among the large group of women clucking into conversation amongst themselves she only saw one or two sour faces, and none promising enough to dig into.
The moment was lost anyway when a man came into the room with a chef's hat. "Ladies," he said in an extremely fake French accent, "I realize that this is your cooking party, and I apologize for the wait, but we wanted to get the freshest ingredients possible for your experience. Please, accompany me into the kitchen."
He looks familiar, Eames thought while following the heard before tripping and catching herself before falling on the hallway's Persian rug. She looked ahead to make sure no one saw her slip up, not realizing that a hand was already steadied on her shoulder.
"You okay?" Someone behind her asked. Eames turned to see a tall auburn haired woman retract her arm and smile politely.
"Yes, just a klutzy moment on my part." Alex smiled back, slightly embarrassed and mentally berating herself for messing with the fragile image of herself as a successful model. "There was a reason I didn't opt for runway in the industry."
"Trust me Alex, we all have those…with or without a modeling career." She extended her hand again. "I'm Megan Basset."
"Ah, yes, I remember you from the dinner party."
"I remember you too, one of the handful of other women who actually worked for a living without digging into their husbands pocketbooks every five seconds." She looked at Alex's confused face for a second before adding, "I was the newbie a year ago, too. I run House of Basset…the horse and hound breeding on my ranch somehow brought me from upstate New York to the city."
Alex's smile involuntarily grew wider; she knew it wasn't real, but it was good to find someone who allowed her to drop part of the façade. "And why are you telling me this?"
"Let's just say, I can tell by the expression on your face that they're starting to drain you."
The detective let out a chuckle. "Very true. I have to admit, I kind of liked Detroit."
Megan responded with a light-hearted laugh of her own. "Enlighten me while we 'cook'."
The cooking project began innocently enough, but as Megan suggested, interest began to wain and after thirty minutes all of them were sitting in the dinning room while the cooks that were left on hand managed the operation. During their wait, when the ladies broke up into groups of chitchat and seemingly senseless drabble into the affairs of those not in attendance, she and her new companion moved to the couch so Megan could fill her in on the lives of the other women in the kitchen.
"Mary just found out that her husband was cheating on her with a 26 year old male prostitute," Megan continued 45 minutes later, "so she had their butler serve him with divorce papers during breakfast."
"Wow," said Eames, truly surprised. "Creative, but…how will she get by?"
"Well, for one, she's the one who inherited the Gibson hotel chain, so it's more of a question of him getting by…guess they're not all as lucky as you," she said with a gentle elbow jab that let Alex know she was just playing.
"Any of the others not as lucky as me?"
"Talk about everyone!" Megan exclaimed. "It's either divorce, cheating, unhappy marriages…"
"How bout people around the luck level of say…Emma Peterson?" Alex started, recognizing her in and taking it.
"Oh, the James situation; honestly, that man has made her sour as a Now and Later…without the later."
"I'll bet." Alex looked from side to side, checking to see that the other women were preoccupied before speaking. "Did you see how he was flirting with me the other night?"
"I'll be surprised if the entire squadron of angels in heaven and God didn't see it," Megan laughed. "That man is cursed. Your lucky your husband isn't the jealous type."
"I think it was more that he knew I wasn't looking to go home with someone else, no matter how much we tease each other."
"A very secure relationship…"
"Unlike the Petersons?" asked Alex, trying to set it back on topic.
"Why are you so interested in those two?" asked Megan.
Uh oh, thought Alex, fearing her bluff had been called.
"Well, it's just that she doesn't work, she let's her husband walk all over her, and most importantly, she was gossiping about me in the living room."
"Payback?" asked Megan.
"Precisely," said Eames, grateful that she could talk her way out of that one.
"Well then," Megan began, "I'm sure you've heard about Paige Garner in the newspapers?"
"Of course? Her story's been all over the news."
"Did they add 'homewrecker' in there?"
"No, why?"
"Paige was never good at anything much…but she came from one of the oldest and wealthiest families in Manhattan, and that automatically gave her appeal. Add being gorgeous and a sense for danger, most men would be intrigued…she was the ultimate bad girl in New York high society."
"Really?"
"Honest to God," she said, "this girl had slept with probably one fourth of these women's husbands and let to at least a few of the divorces I was mentioning earlier, none as messy as Kate and Edwards…but I'll get to that later.
"James Peterson had a habit of being flirtatious, but as soon as he met Paige their tirade became front page worthy. He barely made an effort to cover it up, and with all the money in the relationship belonging to her husband, Emma-darling was left with nothing to do but watch her marriage slip away from her.
"So when Paige ended up dead?"
"Well, none actually think she killed her, but no one, and I mean no one, was crying at the girl's funeral…I don't think in this world they cared enough about Paige to risk the reputation of it all."
From they entryway they heard a "Dinner is served!"
As the women rose to head to the dining room, Alex looked back at Megan and said, "This keeping up with the Jones' business can get dangerous."
Megan only laughed and walked ahead, saying, "Alex, we are the Jones. It doesn't get more dangerous than that."