Deadly Reunion by June Shaw Page A

like, yet my mind’s image reminded me of the stilettos Sue and another woman who’d attracted Gil today wore. I grabbed my new purchase.
    I coated my body with lightly fragranced lotion and pulled on my black lace panties and bra. I spent extra time with eyeliner, varying shades of eye shadow, two zaps of mascara, blush in the exact areas, and double coats of Killer-Red lipstick, then dressed.
    “Not too damn bad, Cealie,” I said to the full-length mirror.
    My satin deep blue wrap top shimmered with black shadows, the diamond heart on a chain Gil once gave me sparkling at my cleavage. Diamond dangling earrings set off my hair that now behaved. The slit up front of my long black knit skirt stopped above my knees and exposed my new open-toe black stilettos.
    “Let Sue top this,” I said, ridiculously reassuring myself that I might look better than my former uncle.
    Out in the hall, I glanced both ways, taking in all of the guests in their finery. What made people look best was their smiles. They’d made special effort to look good and appeared satisfied that they had done their best. Semi-formals overtook formals, although some men wore tuxes, the women accompanying them donning evening gowns.
    The smiles people gave me, along with scans from my head to my shoes, made me feel good about myself, except for the few times I wobbled on my skinny heels.
    Spotted groups wore swimsuits or casual wear, mainly young people who would have late seating for dinner or those who chose not to dress formally tonight.
    “You look especially lovely this evening,” our maître d’ told me at the entrance to our dining room. He probably said that to everyone, yet it made me feel special.
    Until I saw Sue.
    She stood near our table, bending over while getting into her chair that Randy held out. Sue’s breasts would shame basketballs. Possibly that’s what the surgeon used to make them stand out like they did. In case anyone missed them, she wore a cherry red gown with a plunging neckline surrounded by one-inch-square shiny red stones. The gown clung to her slender waist and hips. Her stilettos were higher than mine. And they were crimson.
    Randy looked suave in a navy suit and red tie. Jane sat at the table, hair pulled back in a twisted ’do with a wide rhinestone clip. She looked sleek and sexy in a simple black dress. I took the chair beside hers.
    All of us praised the others’ appearances. Our table and the whole dining room appeared extra sparkly. Our table steward took the napkin that stood on my plate and opened it across my lap.
    I thanked him and asked Jane, “Where’s Tetter? Still getting dressed?”
    “She never came back to the room.”
    I faced Randy. “You were with her last. Wasn’t she going back to her stateroom to change clothes?”
    With wide-eyed innocence, he shrugged. “I have no idea where she went. She left the art gallery not long after you all did. She didn’t say where she was going. Maybe she got lost,” he said with a grin.
    I didn’t think his response funny. He knew where she was heading once she left him. Why wasn’t he telling us the truth? He’d been flirtatious with her, and when she drank, she acted almost the same way with him.
    A microphone interrupted my concerns. “Good evening. Welcome,” our maître d’ said from the center of the room. “All of you look extra special tonight. We hope our dinner offering will add to your enjoyment. Our Executive Chef, Andrew Sandkeep, is responsible for making this evening’s dinner and all of your excellent cuisine.”
    People applauded as Sandkeep walked up.
    Beyond him, I spied Gil. Gil in a tux looked yummier than ever. My heartbeat raced like I was sprinting. He sat at a table with his uncle and a family, apparently a husband and wife and two small children. Gil smiled at something the little girl said. Mm, what a smile. What a deliciously handsome man.
    The Executive Chef’s words washed over me as I focused on something more tempting