(Continued)

But forget about that, the man was good for me. His relationship with his own grown children was of the supportive and noninterfering variety, and some of that had rubbed off on Mom, so that she had started treating me a little more like a sovereign being instead of an instrument of her own wish fulfillment.

Leonard and Mom presented a beautiful picture, he in a white summer suit with a gray tie to complement his gray brush cut, she in a butter-yellow cocktail dress, her golden blonde hair perfectly rounded about her face. On Leonard’s other side was Boca’s big-time benefactress, the Contessa von Phul. I’d recently solved a murder case for her, during which she’d met Chuck and Enrique and wangled an invite to the big event. She sat regally, dressed in her usual Chanel suit and pearls, her sleek mahogany pageboy completing the picture of a perfect seventy-year-old Botox Babe.

The contessa’s Chihuahua, Coco, sat primly in her owner’s lap, all duded up in a pink rhinestone collar. Now, the church sanctuary boasted several large glass sculptures by the renowned artist Chihuly. As Coco tended to be just a little high-strung, I was hoping we would not have an incident of the Chihuaha chipping the Chihuly.

Next to the contessa was Guadalupe Lourdes Fatima Domingo. Lupe, as she was known, had also had a role in the contessa’s case, and in the process had become a good friend of mine. Today she wore a traditional Mexican embroidered dress and her salt and pepper hair was elaborately swept up with multicolored ribbons. The outfit was an homage to her hometown heroine, the late artist Frida Kahlo, and also reflected Lupe’s background as a cultural anthropologist.