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  A Tango Before Dying

  Georgie Shaw Cozy Mystery #7

  Anna Celeste Burke

  A TANGO BEFORE DYING

  Copyright © 2018 Anna Celeste Burke

  http://desertcitiesmystery.com

  Independently Published

  All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced without written permission of the publisher except brief quotations for review purposes.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Cover Design by Anna Celeste Burke

  Photo © Artesiawells | Dreamstime.com

  Books by USA Today and Wall Street Journal Bestselling Author

  Anna Celeste Burke

  A Dead Husband Jessica Huntington Desert Cities Mystery #1

  A Dead Sister Jessica Huntington Desert Cities Mystery #2

  A Dead Daughter Jessica Huntington Desert Cities Mystery # 3

  A Dead Mother Jessica Huntington Desert Cities Mystery #4

  A Dead Cousin Jessica Huntington Desert Cities Mystery #5

  A Dead Nephew Jessica Huntington Desert Cities Mystery #6 [2019]

  Love A Foot Above the Ground Prequel to the Jessica Huntington Desert Cities Mystery Series

  Cowabunga Christmas! Corsario Cove Cozy Mystery #1

  Gnarly New Year Corsario Cove Cozy Mystery #2

  Heinous Habits Corsario Cove Cozy Mystery #3

  Radical Regatta Corsario Cove Cozy Mystery #4

  Murder at Catmmando Mountain Georgie Shaw Cozy Mystery #1

  Love Notes in the Key of Sea Georgie Shaw Cozy Mystery #2

  All Hallows’ Eve Heist Georgie Shaw Cozy Mystery #3

  A Merry Christmas Wedding Mystery Georgie Shaw Cozy Mystery #4

  Murder at Sea of Passenger X Georgie Shaw Cozy Mystery #5

  Murder of the Maestro Georgie Shaw Cozy Mystery #6

  A Tango Before Dying Georgie Shaw Cozy Mystery #7

  A Canary in the Canal Georgie Shaw Cozy Mystery #8 [2019]

  A Body on Fitzgerald’s Bluff Seaview Cottages Cozy Mystery #1

  The Murder of Shakespeare’s Ghost Seaview Cottages Cozy Mystery #2

  Grave Expectations on Dickens’ Dune Seaview Cottages Cozy Mystery #3

  Lily’s Homecoming Under Fire Calla Lily Mystery #1

  Tangled Vines, Buried Secrets Calla Lily Mystery #2 [2019]

  DEDICATION

  To the love of dance—even for those of us with two left feet and prone to missteps. Let’s keep on dancing!

  Contents

  Acknowledgments

  1 Trouble Waltzes In

  2 The Foxtrot

  3 Heartsick?

  4 A Tango Before Dying

  5 Ahead by a Whisker

  6 The Show Must Go On

  7 Creative Differences

  8 Twists and Turns

  9 Who Was that Masked Man?

  10 Two for One

  11 Fancy Footwork

  12 Telltale Footage

  13 Needle Point

  14 Fox Hunt

  15 Houseguests

  16 Matrimonial Missteps

  17 Tricky Moves

  18 Fall Guy

  19 A True Fox

  Recipes

  Wild Mushroom and Gruyere Tarts

  Steak Au Poivre

  Meringue Baskets with Berries

  Spiced Cookies with a dash of Irish Whiskey

  Blueberry Coffee Cake

  The Bombe!

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Acknowledgments

  Thanks to my husband who provides me with terrific feedback while the story is coming to life! I don’t know what I’d do without his love and encouragement, either.

  Thanks, as well, to Ying Cooper for tackling another editing job—this one with the usual rush to meet the deadlines that always seem to close in on me way too soon. Her skill as an editor is greatly appreciated.

  Gratitude to Peggy Hyndman who graciously agreed to serve as a second editor on A Tango Before Dying. As always, I’m grateful for her keen eye and ability to decipher my intent behind confusing passages!

  I’m a fortunate author to have support from readers who also provide me invaluable feedback. I don’t take it for granted for even a minute! A special thanks to members of my ARC Angels group who read drafts of the book before it’s fit to print and who let me borrow their names for characters! THANK YOU!

  1 Trouble Waltzes In

  When trouble waltzes in, you don’t always know it, do you? Well, I don’t, anyway. I’m a sucker for blue skies and California sunshine. Happy smiles, too. I want to believe they’re real, even if there’s a hint of something darker behind them—especially when those smiles belong to a friend—or the friend of a friend. Whether I recognize it or not, it’s doesn’t take long for trouble to find Jack and me!

  ∞ ∞ ∞

  “She moves like a dancer, doesn’t she, Jack?” I asked as I spotted Charlotte Chantel striding our way from the entrance to the outdoor seating at Versailles Veranda where we’d agreed to meet for lunch. At her side was my delightful Executive Assistant, Carol Ripley, named in honor of her godmother. The famous ballroom dance champion’s full name is Charlotte Carol Chantel.

  Madame Chantel, as she’s referred to in publicity materials, is much taller than my petite assistant, and she moved almost as if she were gliding on air. Her head held high, her back was as straight as a board despite the fact she was well into her sixties. The silky white hair arranged in an elegant updo did more to give away her age than her face or figure.

  “Yes, she does,” Jack responded. We watched heads turn as the duo approached.

  “Dance instructors take good posture seriously.” As my handsome husband of less than a year made that observation, he straightened in his chair. “They all seem to have a flair for the dramatic too, don’t they?”

  “If by ‘all’ you’re referring to Kelly and Ivan, I suppose it goes with the territory.” Kelly and Ivan are the instructors for the dance classes Jack and I have been taking. He’s correct that they exhibit good posture and a penchant for drama in every gesture. Not just on the dance floor, either, since we’d walked in on them during a lovers’ quarrel which had involved flying objects hurled at each other along with insults.

  “In Madame Chantel’s case, she’s still a high-profile performer, so she has to be able to command attention,” I added. In spiked heels and a deep red, formfitting dress adorned by a dazzling jeweled necklace, cellphones clicked away as the celebrated dancer passed. She didn’t appear to notice. Perhaps because she was engaged in an animated conversation with Carol or because being noticed was as familiar to her as the air she breathed.

  A waiter in a Louis the XIV-ish period costume was among those who eyed the dancer. The affable man in his thirties, who’d recognized her immediately, dashed to escort her to our table. When he greeted her, she smiled without any obvious reaction to the dashing mustache, wig, and makeup he wore that included whiskers.

  Many of the servers at the Veranda were dressed like one of the characters my boss, “Mad” Max Marley, had created for his animated series, Versailles Foxes. Featuring wily Three Musketeer type characters, the foxes are reminiscent of the Dumas adventure stories, although Max’s history and politics weren’t all that clear. In fact, the series reminded me more of the Wile E. Coyote and Road Runner cartoons than historical fiction.

  “Madame Chantel, how fabulous to have you with us today. It is a great honor. I cannot wait to see you dance,” the server gushed as they reached our table. “And, your charming compa
nion, too.”

  “How kind of you. Do you have tickets to the Waltz Competition tomorrow evening?”

  “Yes, and I will be at the charity ball this evening, so I won’t have to wait until tomorrow to see you dance. In fact, I have tickets for the entire Ballroom Dance Championship. If only the organizers held it here every time!”

  “That wouldn’t be fair to the rest of the world, would it, Brett?” my assistant, Carol, asked addressing our waiter by the name printed on his name tag. She beamed as she greeted Jack and me with a little wave.

  “Of course, Mademoiselle,” he responded, fixing her with a curious gaze. Then, he added a snappy click of his heels before pulling out the chair next to me and offering it to the dancer who he admired so much. “I wouldn’t mind if I could travel the world to watch the competition, but I’m a working man.”

  “Perhaps, your fortunes will change one day, and your wish will come true. After all, you work here in a place built on dreams,” Madame Chantel said as she slipped into the seat the waiter held for her and then leaned in to brush my cheek with a kiss.

  I’d met Carol’s godmother several times before and she’s asked me to call her Charlotte, which I do. Still, I always wrestle with the urge to address her as Madame Chantel. In my mind, the name suits the regal woman perfectly.

  “A dream to hold in my heart,” Brett said as he bowed, and then swept to the chair on the other side of the table and held it for my assistant. When she thanked him, Brett clicked his heels once again. A wave of his hand brought two other servers who poured water and set a platter of crudités on the table. After more heel-clicking and bowing, Brett’s helpers scurried away.

  Jack glanced at me, and I could read the expression on his face. I’d seen it many times since my down-to-earth police detective and I had become a couple. A flair for the dramatic was written into the job descriptions for those hired to be in the public eye at Marvelous Marley World, but Jack still wasn’t used to the over-the-top behavior we were witnessing.

  Our waiter was really hamming it up. Maybe it was his perfectly trimmed mustache, but his performance reminded me of David Suchet’s portrayal of Hercule Poirot. When he handed menus to us, he did so with such a flourish that Jack shifted in his seat as if to avoid being slapped in the face by the lace handkerchief dangling from the waiter’s sleeve.

  “Madame Chantel—Charlotte—I’d like you to meet my husband, Jack Wheeler.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Jack said, pushing back his chair as if to stand.

  “No, please don’t get up. Enchanté!” she said as she offered her hand in greeting. When she did that, she exposed an exquisite jeweled bracelet on her wrist that matched her necklace. I could tell Jack spotted it as he shook her hand.

  “My goddaughter speaks often about you both. She said you’d found your soulmate, Georgie, and he’s every bit as handsome as my Carolita claimed. A police detective, too, I understand. I hope we have time to chat about your work, Detective Wheeler.”

  “If you promise to call me Jack, I’d be happy to talk to you about it. Our conversation will be brief, though, because most of what I do as an officer of the law is boring.”

  Our server, who’d been standing there waiting for his chance to speak, looked at Jack more closely when he heard Madame Chantel refer to him as a police detective. I’d become accustomed to the fact that my husband often gets that sort of reaction from people. Sometimes it’s because of a troubled past or a sordid secret, but it’s often just existential guilt or curiosity.

  I scrutinized Brett a moment longer before dismissing my concern about his interest in Jack’s status as a police detective. The staff who hire our associates at Marvelous Marley World check their backgrounds, although that hasn’t always been foolproof. Brett flinched just a little and shifted his gaze back to Madame Chantel when she objected to Jack’s statement about his police work.

  “That can’t be! Discovering who despises another person enough to commit murder can’t possibly be boring. Disturbing, perhaps, or even a little dangerous, but never dull!” I saw a flicker of concern pass across my sweet husband’s face. He must have noticed the change in the famous dancer’s demeanor as she made that assertion. The tension in her body and the distress in her voice were obvious to me. Before I could figure out what it meant or how to probe a little more, the moment passed. When she sat back in her chair and turned on a radiant smile, our waiter took that as his cue to step in.

  “Madame, will it spoil your plans for this evening if I bring you a bottle of champagne to share with your friends? A gift from Versailles Veranda, in honor of your presence!”

  “If my friends will, indeed, share it with me, that would be lovely.” Even the famous dancer’s pauses were dramatic as she waited for us to respond. We all said yes, of course. Who could say no to free champagne? A frugal man who lived off a police officer’s salary for decades, Jack always perks up when he saves a few dollars.

  When we married late last year, two incomes and moving in with me improved his financial situation considerably. Still, happiness at the prospect of getting something for free is wired into him. Since I’m head of the Food and Beverage Division, Jack doesn’t gripe too much about what it costs for guests to eat while visiting Max Marley’s Arcadia Park, but I can tell it irks him. If he’d checked the price on the bottle of chilled Veuve Clicquot our waiter carried to the table minutes later, Jack might have resorted to a little over-the-top behavior of his own.

  I’d no sooner finished that thought when the man for whom the concept of over-the-top had been invented rushed toward us. The floor show that had started with Madame Chantel’s arrival continued as Max Marley descended upon us. What he lacked in grace, my pint-sized boss in his seventies made up for in speed. At five foot two inches tall, the dynamo exuded the charisma that imbued him with the stature of a larger-than-life figure. Even more widely known to the public, Max turned more heads than Madame Chantel had.

  An entourage hurried to keep up with our fearless leader who headed the small V-shaped formation migrating toward us like a flock of geese. On Max’s right was Stacy Peterson. She’d taken over the leadership role in our Public Relations Division when the former director was sent to prison for his part in a conspiracy that ended in murder. A local TV news reporter was on her heels. The reporter’s harried-looking photographer was in tow with a video camera on his shoulder. At his side was Michael Bridges, a company photographer, with one camera hanging around his neck and another in hand.

  Trailing Max on his left was Katrina Milan, a former dancer turned choreographer, who oversees the Dance Department in our Arts and Entertainment Division. An events coordinator I knew by sight, but not by name, was saying something to Katrina. Katrina reacted to whatever the woman had said with an eye roll. Chef Tomás, who oversees food service in the “Versailles Quarter” as we call this section of Arcadia Park, paused to greet a guest as he also flew in formation behind Max.

  “Madame Chantel, how delightful it is to welcome you to Marvelous Marley World!” Max said as he reached our table. He stopped so abruptly that those behind him had to resort to a few quick sidesteps not to collide with him or each other. “It is such a pleasure to finally meet you in person. I would have greeted you at your hotel and escorted you here, but I didn’t want to intrude on your reunion with your charming goddaughter.”

  “How very thoughtful of you. Carol and I see each other as often as we can, but never as often as we would like. It’s a pleasure to meet you in person after speaking to you on the telephone, Mr. Marley.”

  “Max, please. I must insist that you call me Max. At Marvelous Marley World, we’re all on a first-name basis.”

  “Then, you must call me Charlotte,” she added, reaching up to take the hand Max had offered to her a moment earlier.

  “Don’t be too surprised if you hear her call me Carolita,” my assistant offered. Given how much shorter she is than her godmother, I could understand why Madame Chantel referred to her in tha
t way. “When we’re with close friends and family, everyone calls me Carolita—little Carol! I don’t mind if you want to call me that. Besides, it fits, don’t you think?” She beamed a dimpled smile.

  That my assistant is so much shorter than her godmother is only one of the differences between them. Like her godmother, Carolita wore a dress which was a departure from the more casual slacks she wore to work most days. A sleeveless fitted linen sheath in a caramel color set off her petite figure, dark hair, and dark, almond-shaped eyes. Today she sported a pair of taupe-colored Marvelous Marley World ballet slippers like those worn by the dancers in Max’s award-winning feature film, The Lonely Swan Prince. That was an upgrade from her usual footwear which was typically one of the many pairs of athletic shoes from her extensive Marvelous Marley World collection.

  Max had nodded yes in response to Carolita’s question about her nickname, but his eyes had not wavered. They remained fixed on the older woman. He still held her hand, too, now sandwiched between both of his. She didn’t seem to mind and made no effort to retract it as she gazed at my impeccably attired boss in a bespoke Alan Flusser suit. Someone must have alerted him that Madame Chantel would be wearing red because the little dandy sported a red tie and red paisley silk handkerchief in his suit pocket.

  Today’s lunch was intended to include this “meet and greet” between Max and Madame Chantel. It would be followed by a photo op with a quick plug for the International Ballroom Dance Championship events sponsored by Marvelous Marley World. The photo op would all be caught on video by a corporate videographer and representatives from the media. Chef Tomás took charge as Max remained silent.

  “Please let me introduce myself and add my welcome to the one Max has given you. I’m Tomás Defoe, Head Chef here at Versailles Veranda.”

  “Chef Tomás is being modest, Charlotte,” I added and briefly explained his role at Marvelous Marley World.