Steele Yourself A Merry Little Christmas
The Skater’s Waltz
Part 6 of 8
Laura and Mr. Steele followed other symphony patrons into Fugue Hall, where the music of a string quartet provided a backdrop to laughter, cheerful conversations and the tinkling of ice in glasses. Leveling a lingering look at the performers as they began a gay rendition of the Skater’s Waltz by Waldteufel, Steele nodded discreetly at Laura. Following her answering nod, her eyes skated around the room, ever the detective even if she looked the part of one of LA’s up and coming socialites.
Steele, sharply tailored tux and flawless posture notwithstanding, wore a hooded expression, his normally inquisitive blue eyes half lidded. His fatigue was clear to Laura and she several times tried to catch his eyes with her own as she made investigative forays around the perimeter of the room. A magnet for every overdressed, unattached female in the room, Steele was using far too much of his cold-compromised energy engaging in conversation or in disengaging the grip of well manicured nails from his arm.
Acting on an earlier resolve, Laura procured a heavily frosted chocolate morsel off the dessert table and added to its surface the brightly colored specs from a Contac cold capsule. Seizing an opportunity to gain Mr. Steele’s exclusive attention, she handed him the sweet with its medicinal addition, along with a glass of brightly colored punch.
“Miss Holt, you are an angel of mercy. I haven’t had a chance to get to the dessert table! Ahh - look.” Stuffing the sweet in his mouth, Steele gestured at the doorway, “The quartet has finished. Miss Popavnic is preparing to leave.”
When a glance assured Laura that Steele had swallowed the cold medicine and washed it down with the punch as well, both without suspicion, she turned to observe the suspect. “She’s striking, Mr. Steele. You have excellent taste.”
“I like to think my taste has improved of late,” he murmured into Laura’s ear. Almost as an afterthought, he added, “She does have excellent fingering, however.”
Raising her eyebrows as she looked at Steele, Laura turned to glare at the statuesque blonde. “Ohh?”
“The violin, Laura; the violin.” Steele turned away from Laura to grimace slightly. “Along with a rare gift for removing valuables right off their owners’ backs. Or fronts. Or fingers.”
Laura scowled. “Keep your eyes on her.”
Steele’s slightly fuzzy “Glad to, glad to,” did nothing to soften the look on his partner’s face.
Popavnic’s throaty laugh seemed to insinuate itself into Laura’s ear as the violinist briefly circulated in through the crowd of beaming symphony patrons. As closely as Laura watched, she was unable to see Popavnic do more than touch the hand or the shoulder of anyone she was visiting with. Each conversation was short, the elegant woman moving gracefully on to the next simpering society matron or male admirer. She glided gracefully around the room for a mere ten minutes before glancing at her watch and excusing herself for the symphony’s performance. The small group of fellow musicians also left the Gala, smiling and bowing slightly as they slipped through a side door in the reception room.
Looking back through the crowd to seek Steele, Laura was horrified to find LA’s most popular detective seemingly asleep while leaning against a pillar. A slightly tipsy brunette was chattering away to him, apparently oblivious to his failure to respond, the bells hanging from her ears tinkling merrily in time to her animated one-sided monologue.
“Sorry to interrupt,” Laura said brusquely as she put a firm hand under Mr. Steele’s arm. “May I borrow the gentleman for a moment?”
“Hey! Find your own guy!” the woman declared indignantly.
“I'm afraid he came with me. Hope he isn’t too contagious.”
Drawing back in alarm, the woman looked at Steele as if seeing his cloudy demeanor for the first time. “He never mentioned not feeling well.”
Laura pulled Steele toward the door through which the musicians had left.
“Come on,” Laura implored after first peering into the dim hallway to ascertain that the symphony players were out of sight. She pushed Steele ahead of her into the corridor, her voice quiet and slightly accusing as she addressed her partner. “Mr. Steele, I thought you never got sick - unless it advanced one of your schemes!”
Reaching the end of the short corridor, Laura peered cautiously around the corner.
Steele’s face soon appeared below hers. Looking up at her, he whispered loudly, “What are we looking for?”
“Your friend, Miss Popavnic.”
“I’d hardly call us friends, Laura. Long ago acquaintances, at best,” Steele argued, yawning as he and Laura walked cautiously into the darkened wings of the symphony stage. “Remind me - why are we following her?”
“It’s part of our work, Mr. Steele. Apprehending thieves?” Laura sighed as she glanced at her watch. “The performance begins in about half an hour. She’s probably getting set to go on stage. Do you know where she keeps her things backstage?”
“Should I?” Steele’s eyes were closing as he leaned against the wall.
“Oh, no you don’t!” Laura exclaimed, shaking Steele lightly. “We need to keep an eye on Natasha.”
“Laura, really! She has a concert to play,” Steele yawned. “She can’t do much harm while she’s performing, can she?”
“You’re the one who said she has talented fingers, Mr. Steele.”
“She does, indeed,” Steele muttered with a smile, his eyes once again drifting shut.
“Ohh!” Laura guided the swaying Steele to a folding chair deep in the shadows. “One cold capsule shouldn’t have had this much of an effect on you! Stay with me, Mr. Steele!”
A soft snore was his answer.
Blowing a deep breath out in a sigh of exasperation, Laura settled onto a chair next to Steele, whose head settled onto her shoulder. “We might as well wait and watch from here, Mr. Steele.”
It was impossible for Laura not to enjoy the concert. Without moving from her position next to Steele in the shadows she slid into the rich sounds of strings, brass, woodwinds and timpani. While her soul absorbed every shimmer and sparkle of the music, not a movement on stage escaped the detective in her. Steele, sneeze and sniffle free, barely stirred. He smiled slightly as he leaned contentedly against Laura, arms firmly crossed in front of him.
Nearly an hour into the performance, Laura straightened. There was a discrete movement in the string section as two musicians slipped quietly off stage. They stopped a short distance from Laura and Steele, bending to gently tuck instruments into a cases, then cradling these, the two strode swiftly toward the glow of an exit door light.
Mr. Steele,” Laura hissed imperatively as she shook his shoulders. “Mr. Steele, wake up! We need to follow…Oh!”
Unable to rouse him, she stood and contemplated him, her face a study in concern. “Mr. Steele, you picked a lousy time to get sick. I really don’t want to leave you here.”
Taking a deep breath, Laura bent and grasped his wrist, twisting neatly to drape Steele’s slender form over her bare shoulders. She managed to reach the door, leaning against the wall to brace her slumbering partner while she struggled to turn the handle and push the door open.
Looking up with some effort from under her burden, Laura glimpsed a figure hugging a violin case disappearing into the dark across the street. With a wide-eyed swing of her head, Laura scanned the street for Fred and the limo. She shrugged Steele higher on her shoulders as the limo pulled up to the curb. Fred quickly stepped from the car to ease his employer from her grasp.
“Thanks, Fred. Now, do you think you can follow that string player?”