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She reached the bar, and stopped in her tracks.
There, sitting at a small cocktail table, was her mother, Detective Whitman, and Detective Barton.
Both detectives rose when Sabrina walked over.
"Hello, Ms. Radcliffe," Detective Barton greeted her. "It's good to see you."
"You two are my mother's appointment?" Sabrina asked curtly, glancing at her mother for corroboration. Gloria looked composed, her usual elegant self. But that did nothing to put Sabrina's mind at ease. God only knew what these two had accused her of.
"It's all right, Sabrina," Gloria said, responding to the worried look on her daughter's face. "I called the detectives right after I spoke to you. They were kind enough to meet me here. I cleared up a few things for them." Her lips curved. "Like where I was between five and six o'clock Monday evening and with whom."
"We'll check out your alibi right away, Ms. Radcliffe," Detective Whitman assured her. "I don't expect any problems." A polite smile. "A six-person dinner party gives you more than enough witnesses to verify your whereabouts. Thank you for being so forthcoming. It helps to have someone make our investigation easier rather than harder."
Whitman turned to Sabrina "How's Mr. Brooks tonight?"
"That answer varies from minute to minute," Sabrina replied tightly. "He vacillates from stronger and more lucid to weak, exhausted, and out of it. Some of that is because of the painkillers the hospital's giving him. Let's just say he's hanging on and fighting like hell. My fingers are crossed."
"He's lucky to have so many people pulling for him. I'm sure that will make a difference." Whitman exchanged a quick look with her partner. "We'll leave you ladies alone now. I'm sure you have a lot to catch up on."
"Thank you, Detectives." Gloria extended her hand and, with a lovely smile, shook each of theirs in turn. "Again, I appreciate your coming here."
"How long were they with you?" Sabrina demanded, the minute she and her mother were alone.
"An hour or so." Gloria rose. "Why don't we go into the dining room? Our table's ready. We can talk while we eat."
Inside the dining room, they ordered their meals, waited for their sparkling water to be poured, and then plunged into the multitude of topics they needed to discuss.
"Tell me about Whitman and Barton," Sabrina began.
Gloria shrugged. "Right now, they're either very relieved or very disappointed. I think they really believed I shot the man. The fact that I have an alibi—one they can confirm five times over—makes me a dead end."
"They believe everyone shot Carson. They come off like attack dogs. I'm sorry they put you through this."
"It wasn't so bad. At first they were accusatory and suspicious. But after I gave them the facts from my perspective, they relaxed. By the end, we were just fine. I even gave Detective Whitman a few good hints on the best Manhattan night spots."
Sabrina began to laugh. "Mother, you're amazing. You could charm a cobra into giving up its prey. When you put that cunning diplomacy of yours to work, no one's immune. It never ceases to amaze me. I'm so bad at wrapping people around my finger. I'm queen of shoot-from-the-hip. Who I take after is beyond..." Her voice trailed off as she realized where her words were leading.
"I think we both know the answer to that," Gloria replied gently.
"I guess we do." Sabrina massaged her temples. "I feel as if a lifetime's passed since Monday. I always thought I could cope with anything. I was wrong."
"You're coping beautifully. These are hardly normal circumstances."
Sabrina searched her face. "Before we go on, I have to know. How did Grandmother and Grandfather react?"
A sigh. "Pretty much the way you'd expect. The only good news is, their worry over your health softened the intensity of their anger and chagrin over the potential scandal. Let's give it some time. Hopefully, they'll mellow. Speaking of time, when will the tissue-typing results be in?"
"In about a week. If it turns out I'm the best donor match, I've got a battery of tests to go through, a nephrologist to see...." Sabrina sucked in her breath. "We don't need to go through all the details now. If and when it becomes necessary, I'll tell yo
u everything. God knows, I'll need your support. But, Mother, I won't change my mind. Like I said on the telephone, if I'm the best match, I'm going through with the transplant."
Gloria's smile was sad, but tinged with pride. "I know you are."
"There's more," Sabrina added bluntly. "No, nothing health related," she hurriedly clarified, seeing the worried look on her mother's face. "Actually, it involves my career. And, from a professional standpoint, it's huge." She fiddled with her napkin. "Carson and I have this kind of mental connection. It's hard to explain. I hardly know the man, yet I do. And I like and respect him. What he's done with his company is incredible and impressive. The problem is he's concerned about how Ruisseau will hold up while he's in the hospital. He wants profits and morale to continue to thrive. He needs someone to help keep things on track."
"So, he's offered you a job," Gloria guessed. "You're taking on a consulting project for him."
Sabrina licked her lips. She hadn't realized quite how hard this would be. "Yes, and no. That's partly true. It's also the story we're telling the staff, at least for now. But it's more than that. Much more." She met her mother's gaze, stated the bottom line without mincing words. "Carson's asked me to be president of Ruisseau."
