Perfect Sax by Jerrilyn Farmer Read Free Book Online Page A

“I don’t see her yet. Her daughter plays violin. Actually, the girl is not bad, but the mother !” Just then, one of the departing guests caught Connie’s attention. “Good night, Mr. Braniff.”
    “Good night, Mrs. Hutson. Wonderful auction. And say hello to Ryan. Is he practicing?”
    “More or less,” the mother said, smiling, and then turned back to me. “Sebastian Braniff studied under Marcel Mule. He used to play with Skitch Henderson when he was only a kid in high school. He’s my son’s private lessons teacher. Wasn’t he incredible tonight?”
    “Listening to Mr. Braniff play the Selmer was the highlight of this evening.”
    “Anyway, Patsy,” Connie said, easily slipping back to a favorite rant. “Avoid her like the plague.”
    I count on such insider tips about the private lives of the rich and famous, since I prefer to avoid doing parties andworking for the truly beastly. “I’m trying to place her. What does Patsy look like?”
    “Let’s see. She’s blond.” Well, that could be almost every woman on the Woodburn Guild. “She’s attractive.” Ditto. “Her entire manner is off-putting, really. She never made it to even one of our meetings, so I doubt you have seen her. Oh, wait a sec.” Connie pulled out the program book for the evening and flipped to one of the opening pages. “How silly of me. Naturally, she did make it to the photo shoot of the committee. There.” She pointed to a thin woman in the program picture. “Wearing Gucci. She’s so predictable it’s galling.”
    “Oh, Connie. Speaking of off-putting, I had the strangest conversation with one of the Guild ladies. Is a woman named Caroline a good friend of yours? She dates Albert Grasso.”
    “Caroline Rochette with the terrible plastic surgeon?”
    “That could be her. What is she like?”
    “She’s ghastly, Madeline. Why, what did she do?” Connie Hutson liked to dish the dirt. She enjoyed spit-roasting her friends over the judgmental flames, but she was even more interested in lighting new fires.
    “Well, she’s threatening to sue me, actually. It’s a long story, but I found some papers that may have belonged to Mr. Grasso. He and Caroline went crazy when I told them I want to return the stuff. I can’t imagine why.”
    “Oh, Caroline doesn’t need a reason to go crazy, she’s already there, my pet.” Connie Hutson chuckled.
    “What’s that story?”
    “Albert’s not in a hurry to get married for a fourth time, I suspect. He has a wandering eye. Hell, he has even put moves on me, and my dear, I’m too busy raising Ryan and raising money for good causes to raise any hell.”
    Connie turned to see Dave tipping the valet and she ran down the last two wide-paved steps and slid into their silver Escalade.
    I took a minute to scan the incoming valets and the cars they were driving up to the loading zone, but there was no sign yet of my old black Wagoneer with the woody panels.
    “Hello,” I called to some new arrivals. Hilary and Mike Entemann were just coming down the wide steps. Mike moved on to take care of the valet while Hilary lingered with me.
    “Wasn’t the live auction spectacular?” Hilary asked. She was smiling. “Could you believe Brianna Welk yelling at everyone to shut up? We have certainly seen the real Brianna tonight, I’m afraid.”
    “Her judgment may have been…impaired,” I suggested, smiling back.
    “Exactly,” Hilary agreed. She was another exceedingly well-groomed woman in her early forties or so. Her pale hair was swept up and held with a diamond clip. Her black gown clung to her athletic body, showing off her muscle tone to the best advantage. “But she kept the bidding rising on your item. Twenty-six five. That must have felt good.”
    “It’s wild.” I liked Hilary. The Entemanns’ eleven-year-old twins were fine singers and members of the prestigious Woodburn Honor Chorus, a group that regularly won competitions in Europe and New York. “I’m so excited. Did