13
Brasserie Ruhlmann was as quiet as Laurie had ever seen it when she arrived promptly at five-thirty that evening. Named for the French Art Deco designer Émile-Jacques Ruhlmann, the restaurant evoked a high-end Parisian brasserie, complete with soaring ceilings, red velvet chairs, and crisp white tablecloths. It was also directly downstairs from Fisher Blake Studios, making it one of Laurie’s favorite spots.
As she shook off her coat and handed it to the hostess, she spotted Charlotte throwing her a small wave from a corner table next to the back bar. They exchanged quick kisses on both cheeks before Laurie took a seat across from her.
Charlotte already had a martini on the table.
“You got here early,” Laurie noted.
“Practically a snow day at Ladyform. I sent out an email last night telling the entire staff to use their discretion about whether to come in. Of course, we got three inches instead of nine, and half the office stayed home anyway.” Laurie’s friend Charlotte ran the New York City operations of her family’s business. Under Charlotte’s watch, Ladyform had grown from a manufacturer of “lady’s foundational garments” to a brand renowned for its high-end athletic clothes.
Laurie had met Charlotte after featuring the disappearance of Charlotte’s younger sister on an episode of Under Suspicion. After production ended, Charlotte invited Laurie to lunch, and the two had become fast friends.
Laurie ordered a white wine instead of joining Charlotte in a martini and then listened as her friend vented about a fabric supplier who decided to add another 5 percent of Lycra to a product without notifying her. “I’ve got ten thousand bolts of the stuff. I made up one sample garment to see how it worked. The pants looked like Olivia Newton-John’s in the final scene of Grease.”
Laurie pictured the iconic, skintight, shiny black leggings. “Maybe you’ll start a new trend?”
“Sure, if disco makes a sudden comeback.” She waved a hand, whisking the stress away. “I’ll get them to replace it. Just a headache, that’s all. Oh, hey, don’t let me forget this.”
She reached into her bag, pulled out a heavy book, and handed it to Laurie. First Ladies of Fashion was emblazoned in glossy letters on the front jacket.
“I forgot I had it until I got off the phone with you.”
When Charlotte had called Laurie to suggest an impromptu drinks date, Laurie had been leaving the museum and mentioned that she was looking into the Virginia Wakeling case. She was surprised when Charlotte told her that she had been at the gala that night. Apparently, Ladyform purchased a table each year to support the museum’s Costume Institute and to help equate the Ladyform brand with fashion as well as function.
Laurie flipped through the pages of the coffee table book published to commemorate the exhibit being celebrated the night Virginia Wakeling died. “It was printed before that night,” Charlotte explained, “so it won’t have any mention of the death. But I thought you might be able to use it somehow.”
Sean Duncan had said it would be possible for Laurie to film at the Met, but of course they wouldn’t be able to replicate the actual fashion exhibit. Jerry could work wonders, however, with still photographs. She assumed they could request high-resolution versions of any images she wanted to use. The book had hundreds to choose from. “This is great, Charlotte. Thanks.”
“I wish I knew more about the actual case.” Charlotte had already explained that she had been in the ladies’ room when she heard murmurs from other partygoers about a woman who had fallen. Her table was nowhere near the prestigious seating enjoyed by Virginia Wakeling. In short, she had no firsthand knowledge related to the investigation. “Otherwise, I could have been the first person in history to appear on your show more than once, other than Alex of course. Speaking of Alex, I saw him two nights ago at the Bronx Academy of Letters benefit.”
Charlotte had invited Laurie to take one of the seats at Ladyform’s table for the event, a fundraiser for a public school in the poorest congressional district in the country. Unfortunately, the event had conflicted with taking Timmy to Jazz at Lincoln Center. Once again, Laurie needed a clone.
“How did he seem?” Laurie asked, trying not to sound overly curious.
“He seemed fine.” Laurie could tell that Charlotte was holding something back.
“Did he say something about me? Oh, strike that from the record. I sound like a twelve-year-old.”
“It didn’t really come up. We just said hello, and he introduced me as having met him through Under Suspicion.” She wrinkled her nose, as if she realized she had let something slip.
“He introduced you . . . to whom?”
“Kerry Lyndon.”
Laurie recognized the name. She was a news anchor for the local CBS affiliate. Long blonde hair, big blue eyes, impeccably dressed in front of the camera at all times. Laurie had a sudden image of Kerry Lyndon standing next to Alex, the two of them looking perfect together.
“They weren’t together-together, though. I noticed in the program that they were both listed on the auction committee. I think they were just greeting guests.”
Or, alternatively, Kerry had been Alex’s plus-one for the evening. Until he had started dating Laurie, Alex had been a staple on the social pages of the newspapers, always accompanied by an accomplished woman known in her own right.
“Did you hear the news?” Laurie asked, not wanting to speak any longer about Alex’s date for the benefit. “He’s being named to the federal bench.”
“Wow. The Honorable Judge Alex Buckley. It’s got a nice ring to it. Is he totally psyched?”
Laurie shook her head. “I have no idea. I read it in a New York Times alert this morning.”
Charlotte reached across the table and placed a hand on Laurie’s. “Sweetie, I’m so sorry. I just assumed you’d hear about the appointment from him. I know you two are on a break, but I figured something as big as that . . .” Her voice trailed off. Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year’s had passed without a word between them other than an exchange of mailed holiday cards and the delivery of a new video game as a Christmas gift for Timmy. Why would he have reached out to tell her that he was finally getting his dream job?
Charlotte was looking at her with an expression that approached pity. “I never should have mentioned seeing him at the benefit.”
Laurie feigned a smile. “I promise, Charlotte, you have nothing to apologize for. Alex is free to share his company with other women. We’re not together.”
Charlotte paused, sensing that Laurie was putting on a brave face, but then changed the subject to an upcoming fashion segment she had planned for the Today show the following week.
The moment had passed without further emotion, but, inside, Laurie’s heart was sinking.