Murder on the Orient Espresso(3)

‘Of course.’

The young woman certainly got things done. And pleasantly. My oft-irascible if not downright cantankerous business partner, Sarah Kingston, could take lessons from the mouths of babes.

Age-wise, I mean.

Raised voices drew my attention back to the entrance. Curly-top was nowhere in sight, but Larry the Lanky Smoker was talking to Zoe. He had a shaved head and handlebar mustache above a dress shirt and sports jacket, dark slacks and a pair of mated wingtips below. I recognized the style of shoes because it was one many of my former colleagues in the financial industry had favored while conducting business in the office or – in a more colorful version – on the golf course.

None of those shoes, though, had quite the panache of this pair. With strategically-placed patches of soft tan, dark brown, pale yellow and forest green, these wingtips didn’t look so much like golf shoes as what golf shoes aspire to be when they grow up. The man wearing them expected to be recognized. To the point of demanding to be.

But I’d be damned if I could place him.

‘If I must, I must,’ he was saying to Zoe as he fussed with his mustache. ‘But prior notice would have been appreciated.’

‘I’m certain you were sent—’

‘Here we go.’ Missy, apparently not noticing the dust-up involving her boss, handed Pavlik an envelope. ‘Everything should be in here, including your tickets for tonight’s event. Since it’s just barely six, you’ll have time to freshen up and change before we meet in the lobby at seven-fifteen.’

‘The lobby?’ Pavlik echoed, as I saw any hopes of an intimate evening in the hotel suite circle the drain. But then Pavlik had been invited as an honored guest and being on the conference’s dime would mean that he also had to be on the conference’s time, not my own.

Bright side, this was his show and maybe they were taking us out to dinner. A nice seafood restaurant on the well-tended waterfront would—

‘Yes, here,’ Missy confirmed. ‘And, please, by seven-fifteen for the bus to the station. Oh, and you did bring costumes, I hope?’

I perked up. ‘Costumes?’

Pavlik glanced at me.

Wings, I mouthed.

The sheriff suppressed a grin. ‘Nobody said anything about an event tonight, Missy, but you’re paying me and comping us. The where and when are all we need to know.’

I admired the sentiment, if not the resulting postponement of nookie time.

‘I’m so sorry.’ Missy threw a concerned look at her boss, who was still deep in conversation with Larry the Smoker. ‘Zoe didn’t email you about our murder train?’

‘No, but that’s fine,’ Pavlik said. ‘By “murder train,” do you mean like a mystery dinner theater, but on a railroad car?’

A similar train ran on weekends between downtown Milwaukee and Chicago’s union   Station.

‘Yes, though it’s more “cars,” plural, and we’re just offering a mystery-themed cake and coffee. Not only is it cheaper and easier than full dinner service or even hors d’oeuvres on a train, but it gave me a great theme to build the event around.’ Missy pointed to a sign.

‘“Murder on the Orient Espresso,”’ I read aloud, wondering why I, a public relations person turned coffeehouse owner – said coffeehouse even being in a historic train depot – had never thought of mounting an event based on Agatha Christie’s classic 1934 mystery novel.

Though I wasn’t above stealing the idea and smuggling it back to Wisconsin. ‘What fun. Are you actually having espresso?’

‘Yes. In addition to a full bar, of course.’ She gestured toward the coffee cart. ‘Boyce, the hotel’s coffee vendor, will be onboard providing coffee and cake.’

I didn’t point out that coffee – which could be easily brewed by the large pot – and espresso, brewed by the shot, were two entirely different efforts. Especially when dealing with a crowd. ‘How many people will there be?’

‘Fewer than twenty for tonight, which is a separate, ticketed event.’ Missy frowned. ‘I’d hoped for more, but then this is the first year we’ve done something on the eve of the conference.’

‘That sounds like a very respectable turnout, and it’ll give you a chance to get the bugs out for next year.’ One of the ‘bugs,’ perhaps, being espresso for twenty. ‘I own a coffeehouse in Wisconsin, so let me know if your vendor needs help.’

‘Oh, that is so nice of you.’ Missy gave me an enthusiastic if unexpected hug. ‘This train event was my idea and I really do want to make it a huge success.’