Page 18 of Murder on Charity Lane

The guy opened a cabinet, synched his phone, then glanced at Nicholas. “What do you think for this crowd, Adele or Billie Eilish?”

“Uh,” Nicholas said.

“Oh, here we go!” the guy said, tapping at his phone. “Frank Sinatra.”

As the music started, Nicholas said, “Perfect. Fits the décor.”

“They like the oldies. Frank—I mean, our Frank—was a big-time music producer back in the day. Some of the stars jammed in his studio as recently as five, six years ago. Like Matty Almond, a few guys from True Blue.”

Nicholas didn’t know either of those names, but he said, “Neat.”

“His studio’s amazing. Serene. Great place to meditate.” The guy considered him. “Are you from World of Goods?”

“Just tagging along with my girlfriend. I’m Nicholas.”

“Pecs.”

That was a little too on the nose. “Pecs?”

“No, no. Pax.”

“Oh, Pax! Like peace.”

Pax flashed his perfect white teeth. “Exactly like peace.”

“So you’re a friend of, uh…” Nicholas gestured toward the woman who’d yelled for music. “Hers?”

“Jane? Not really. I’m closer to the DeYoungs. I’m their bodyworker, I see them four times a week. Karina asked me to come tonight. She said that way she’s not the youngest person here, but I think it’s really so if anyone falls over, I can pick them up.”

“A new spin on ‘pickup artist,’” Nicholas said, then cringed internally at the terrible joke. On the bright side, when he told Sophie later, she’d giggle.

Pax gave him a pity smile. “Yeah.”

The pause lasted a few seconds before Nicholas raised his empty wineglass in explanation, then headed for the bar.

10

CJ

CJ added another splash of Amaretto to Frank’s cocktail. No matter what Karina said, she wasn’t going to deny him one of his few daily pleasures. She occasionally joined him for a stiff nut when Karina spent the evening out. They were strong and sweet, just like Frank. And unique, too. She’d searched online but still didn’t know where he’d found the recipe. She got a little misty-eyed when she realized that she’d miss mixing him cocktails. She took pleasure in the ritual, like with his cappuccinos, getting everything just right so Frank relaxed when he took that first sip.

When the music started, she watched him rise unsteadily and head for the deck. He used to host raucous listening parties for his albums, but background music made him uncomfortable now, because he couldn’t concentrate on either the music or the conversation. She started to follow him, to keep him company, but that was so daughterly that it would make Karina sour for a week.

She scanned the crowd for Pax, to ask him to go, but she spotted Sophie instead, looking slightly overwhelmed, so she drifted over and said, “Any luck?”

“Not yet,” Sophie told her. “The truth is, I don’t even know how to start. Do you ever wonder if you’re not cut out for your job?”

“Well, I never saw myself as a personal assistant slash housekeeper slash wrinkle-wrangler, but here I am, almost fifteen years later.”

Sophie gave a charming snort. “Wrinkle-wrangler?”

“That’s what Frank called me once. How long have you been doing development?”

“A month and a half.”

CJ pretended shock. “And you’re not an expert yet? What is wrong with you?”

“I know, I know! I just can’t stand being useless.”