"Just let me do all the talking, Roger. You see, an important part of being a member of high society is being incapable of acknowledging anything that ISN'T a part of high society. They have their own customs, rules of behavior, even language, all of which have no relationship to reality in the slightest possible manner. One slip, one word out of place, and you could bring their whole fragile world crashing down around them. In fact, maybe it would be better if you waited outside..."
"No sweat, Ramona, just tell them I'm your bodyguard."
"Say, that's a clever idea. But just promise me you won't shoot anybody unless it's absolutely necessary, OK?"
I smiled at her. "I'll make you proud, Ramona. If I DO have to shoot anybody, I'll use a silencer, so as not to disturb their afternoon tea."
The butler led us out to the beachside patio, where Angela was lounging on one of those tiny little beach chairs that look like they were sized for hobbits. To my surprise, lounging beside her on a tripod, was the painting Hookie Jones had so delicately crafted for her. It did, indeed, look exactly like Miss Piggy, wearing one of the most expensive looking gowns ever sewn around a swine. Angela didn't seem to be looking at it, so much as guarding it. As we approached, she turned around to face Ramona.
"Boodles!", exclaimed Angela.
"Tinky!", returned Ramona.
"Boodles?", I thought to myself.
"Boodles, darling, I haven't seen you since you married that, uh, what was his name?"
"Capt. Harrison De Swell, USMC."
"Only a captain? Well, better luck next time, Dearrie. Is this your new bo? A bit scruffy looking, isn't he?", as she motioned in my direction.
"Oh, don't be silly, Tinky, he doesn't even own a hunting rifle. He's just the bodyguard. Those pesky photographers were poking around in my garbage can, again, and you know what a nuisance that can be."
"Yes, of course. I'll never forget that dreadful business that occurred when they found some of Margeret Lauren's worn-out unmentionables. I tell you, Boodles, these are dangerous times we live in! I don't blame you a bit for engaging the services of a bodyguard, but they might have sent one that at least knows the proper way to dress!"
I almost said something, but as my lips began to move, Ramona gave me a look so cold it could have flash-frozen an Eskimo. I just shifted uncomfortably, instead. She turned back to Angela.
"Desperate times call for desperate measures. Tinky, what is this painting doing out here?"
"Oh, what a dear you are for noticing. This is that incredible portrait that I had done for me by Hookie Jones."
"Really? What's it doing here? I had heard that you didn't really care for it."
"Oh, just jealous gossips, I'm sure. I must admit, when I first saw it, I found it rather shocking, but then again, art should do that, shouldn't it? This painting means a great deal to me. Would you believe the critics have been raving about it ever since the unveiling? Art dealers have offered me millions for it, museums crawling over one another to display it, and the juicy part is that Hookie Jones has given up painting and become a musician, so I own the only portrait he ever painted! I just can't believe what a lucky thing I've been! I take it with me, everywhere I go, and watch all the other girls seethe with desire for it. Gads, what fun!"
I had heard enough. It was quite obvious that however she felt about the painting (and I suspect that she wanted to rip it to shreds), she was having far too much fun holding it under everyone's noses to run around threatening to kill the painter. The trick, however, was to find a way out of this little tea party and get back on the trail of the real would-be killer. Then a stroke of genius hit me.
I grabbed Ramona and threw her to the sand, then I jumped on top of her. As she struggled to get up, I held her down. "Don't move, Miss De Swell - I think we're being photographed!"
Angela, who had been watching me in a near state of shock, reacted. "Photographed? Oh my God! I hadn't even washed my hair this morning! Oh, what am I to do?"
"Don't panic, Miss Bartle. You make a run for it to the house, while I keep you covered. Miss De Swell can slip back to the car, and once you're both safe, I'll personally hunt the, uh, bounder down and terminate the negatives. And be careful!"
"Oh, thank you so much. I don't know what I'd do without..."
"LOOK OUT, MISS BARTLE, HE'S AIMING AT YOU!" I pulled out the Uzi and shot a few rounds into the Pacific. I turned back around just in time to see Tinky's cute little behind disappearing through the curtains covering her patio door.
Ramona was not amused. As I turned back to face her, she decked me with right cross. "YOU CREEP! I'LL FIX YOU GOOD FOR THAT!"
I smiled. "Not unless you want me to start calling you 'Boodles' around the house!"
Her eyes went wide with terror, as she turned and ran for the jeep.
TO BE CONTINUED...