the food. Maddie had brought her delicious and beautifully decorated cupcakes for dessert. Violet set up two French presses with decaffeinated coffee while Sarah poured cream into a small pitcher and Maddie found the raw sugar.
“I think we’re about ready. Liz, would you take the wine to the table?”
The timer dinged, and Violet took out the bread and placed it in a woven basket. She followed the group to the dining room. “I see you’re setting for yet another. If I’m taking Isabelle’s place, who’s missing?” Violet asked, sitting to Mrs. Beabots’s right.
“Katia,” Mrs. Beabots answered. “She had something come up. I’ll call her tomorrow with the details.”
Sarah acted as the server and ladled the pesto sauce over the pasta. “So, Violet. Can you tell us about the stakeout you were on or is that top secret?”
“Well, I can’t discuss all the details. But I was excited because, as Mrs. Beabots knows, I’ve been stuck either in a patrol car or behind a desk since I came to work for the ILPD. Handing out traffic tickets, which there aren’t that many of in Indian Lake, was a highlight of the week.”
“Sounds boring,” Liz said.
Maddie elbowed her. “Don’t mind her, Violet.”
“No, she’s right. It was beyond boring. What I really want to do with my career is work my way up to detective.”
“And you’d be really good at it.” Mrs. Beabots smiled. “I have a way of knowing these things.”
“Thanks for your confidence in me,” Violet said.
“So, did anything happen?” Sarah asked.
“Uh...” She searched for the right words. “Not with the perp we’re hoping to find.”
Maddie stared at Violet. “That was a hesitation. Something happened.”
As Violet looked around the table, she realized that all four women had moved to the edge of their seats.
“Are you after a murderer?” Sarah asked.
“Drug dealer?” Liz asked, holding a forkful of pasta.
“I’m not at liberty to say. At this juncture, we don’t know about murder, but it wouldn’t be outside the realm of possibility.”
“It is a drug dealer,” Liz said. “Listen, Violet. After what Cate and Trent went through, and poor Mrs. Beabots being the victim of a drive-by shooting in this very house, you can’t shock us.”
“That’s true,” Mrs. Beabots said. “You know all those security lights and cameras I have outside on the house?”
“Yes. It was the first thing I noticed when I came to inspect the apartment. I thought you were smart to protect yourself so well.”
Mrs. Beabots shook her head. “I didn’t do it. The cops did. Sorry. It was Trent’s idea when he was trapping that drug dealer, Le Grand. Now, I’ve inherited all this equipment.”
“That happens. And it’s good protection. Anyway, the perp didn’t show up.” Violet toyed with her pasta. “I did make an arrest, though.”
“Who?” they asked in unison.
“I can’t say. I wouldn’t be surprised if his publicity manager kills the story.”
“Publicity?” Mrs. Beabots stared at Violet. “This wouldn’t be about Josh Stevens, would it?”
Violet’s hand went numb and she dropped her fork. The silence at the table was deafening. “How. Did. You. Know?”
“Katia told me. Josh Stevens is the reason she couldn’t be here. Josh is staying with Austin and Katia tonight. She’s making crab.” Mrs. Beabots beamed.
Violet was glad she’d already dropped her fork. She had to close her mouth. Josh had said he knew Austin, but she hadn’t believed him. She simply assumed Josh was grasping for anything that would aid in his release. Lots of people knew Austin. Now that she had a chance to think about it, it made sense. Austin was a huge antique car collector. She’d heard stories that Austin’s grandfather had been a designer with the Duesenberg brothers at the turn of the last century. Austin’s father had collected cars all his life. Josh and Austin probably met at an auction or something.
She took a sip of wine.
Just my luck.
Bad luck at that. She’d arrested not only a celebrity, but one who was friends with her friends. Terrific.
Violet couldn’t have been more embarrassed. She’d only been doing her job. “He was speeding,” she said without a trace of emotion. “I ticketed him.”
“Speeding? Isn’t that what he does?” Maddie joked.
“Uh, not going down the county road in front of my mother’s house.”
“Oh, that’s not good,” Liz added.
“It’s not. I can’t tell you exactly how fast he was going.”
Silence.
“It’s a confidentiality issue,” she continued.
They continued to stare at her, like hungry baby birds.
“Well, we’ll read it in the newspaper tomorrow,” Maddie said.
“Yeah.” Violet remembered Scott’s visit to the station. Resigning herself to the inevitable, she said, “It was over two hundred miles an hour.”
All four gaped at her.
“Good for you!” Sarah exclaimed. “What if some kids were out bike riding now that the weather’s nice? They could have gotten scared, lost their balance.” She dropped her forehead to her palm. “It could have been disastrous.”
Mrs. Beabots’s eyes narrowed. “He was driving that blue Bugatti Chiron, wasn’t he?”
“I believe so.”
Sarah cranked her head up. “How do you know about Bugattis?”
“I used to own one.” Mrs. Beabots grinned. “I like to keep up. And I read in Race Car Driver Magazine that Josh bought one.”
Violet rolled her eyes. Was everyone she knew a Josh Stevens fan?
Liz sank her fork into the pasta. “It may not seem like much, Violet, but thank goodness you were there in the right place at the right time today.”
“Thanks, Liz. I needed that.”
Mrs. Beabots took a thoughtful sip of wine. “You know, this gets me to thinking about my fund-raiser. What I’m proposing is ambitious for Indian Lake,” she said. “Violet, you certainly are aware of the situation with the many foster children in the system, what with Isabelle and Scott adopting their foster children.”
“I
