Carrot Cake Murder (Hannah Swensen, #10)(9)

Hannah was still watching the dance floor. The havoc was over, and the mirrored ball that hung from the ceiling rotated like the planets in the science project her father had helped her make in ninth grade. As the ball revolved, it sent beams of colored light down to illuminate the dancers who were now moving sedately. Since everything was calm, and there was no bump or tumble imminent, she turned her attention from the dance floor to Marge’s brother, Gus. Hannah assumed that he was just trying to impress people, but he certainly mentioned money a lot!

Gus Klein was a handsome, well-dressed man in his fifties. Just an inch or so short of the six-foot mark, he had carefully styled dark blond hair with an elegant streak of silver over his left temple. The silver streak made him look distinguished, and Hannah suspected a beautician had placed it there. She knew she shouldn’t make snap judgments, but he seemed to be a man who was all about appearances. Some people believed that if the package was appealing enough, it didn’t really matter what was inside. Hannah was not one of them. Naturally, she preferred an attractive package, but it was what was inside that really counted.

What was inside Gus Klein? Hannah hadn’t known him long enough to know, but he seemed a bit shallow to her, and she didn’t like his continual bragging about his life in Atlantic City. He’d told them all that he had a standing appointment for a manicure at his office, he called in a masseuse when he felt tense, and when he entertained, he ordered food from the most exclusive restaurant in town and had it delivered to his penthouse condo.

She did know that Gus expected everyone else to wait on him. When Marge had asked him to join her at the buffet line, he’d told her he was too busy talking to some Brainerd cousins and practically ordered her to bring him a plate. The same thing had happened with the dessert buffet. It was as if his time was too valuable to stand in line like the rest of the relatives. He’d sent Lisa off to bring a sampler plate of dessert and coffee for the table, and then he’d passed out what he’d said were real Cuban cigars that he’d imported at great expense.

Hannah looked around for Andrea and spotted her on the dance floor with Bill. Andrea was the fashion expert, and Hannah hoped she’d assessed Gus’s clothing. While Hannah didn’t know a whole lot about men’s attire, or women’s either for that matter, she knew that the clothes Gus wore weren’t mail order. They weren’t mall clothing, either.

So what was the bottom line on Gus? Hannah thought about it for a minute. Most would say that he was handsome, charming, and sophisticated. And for those who didn’t dig deeper, all of the above would be correct. But Hannah had the feeling that Gus was none of the above. She couldn’t help but feel that he was playing a part, trying to appear urbane and elegant when he was really a beer-and-brat guy. Something wasn’t quite right about Gus Klein’s public persona, but she couldn’t put her finger on what it was.

Hannah glanced at Marge. Lisa’s mother-in-law was dressed to the nines tonight in an outfit that Hannah termed aging hippie, a phrase she’d never utter out loud for fear she’d hurt Marge’s feelings. Some ladies liked to look sleek. Delores was a case in point. Her outfits were always tailored to embrace her perfect figure. Other ladies liked flounces, full skirts that swung out like cowgirls at a Saturday night square dance. Marge liked flutter. Butterfly wings and swooping fringes had nothing on her tonight. She was wearing a purple chiffon pantsuit that fluttered around her legs when she walked, and almost cleared off the table when she made a sweeping gesture.

Jack Herman, Lisa’s dad, sat next to Marge. He looked handsome in dark slacks and a lavender shirt, but he didn’t look happy. His lips were curved in a smile, but his eyes were angry and Hannah could tell that his smiling countenance was nothing but a polite gesture. Several times during the evening, she’d caught him glaring at Gus. Lisa had mentioned that there was bad blood between them, but when Lisa had asked her father what was wrong, he’d refused to discuss it.

Marge’s twin, Patsy, looked so much like Marge that Hannah could believe the stories they’d told about how they used to play jokes on their dates by switching places halfway through the evening. There were ways to tell the twins apart, but only if they were standing side by side. Patsy’s hair was slightly darker and she was a bit heavier than Marge. Marge’s nose was a smidgen longer. Patsy’s eyebrows were darker. It wasn’t much of a yardstick to tell them apart, and Hannah was glad they didn’t dress alike.

Mac, Patsy’s husband, sat next to her. He was handsome and athletic, and Hannah had caught several of the unattached women at the dance eyeing him appreciatively. Patsy had noticed too, but she didn’t seem concerned. Either she trusted her husband completely, or she just didn’t care. Hannah was betting on the latter since they were sitting right next to each other without touching. If her psychology professor at college was correct when he lectured on body language, the space between them spoke volumes about the health of their marriage.

“I don’t think Mother bought your bedspread at a store,” Marge said to Gus.

“She didn’t,” Patsy confirmed it. “I remember we saved box tops for her and she sent away for it.”

“That’s right! You know the type of thing we’re talking about, don’t you, Hannah?”

Hannah was jolted out of her musing and back to the scene by Marge’s question. It was a good thing she’d been half listening to the conversation. While she’d much rather be ignored and left to her own thoughts, Marge obviously wanted to include her.