A Woman About Town (Fox & Oakby Murder Mysteries Book IV)

Hall Pass

They were met at the entrance to the Serpent's Nest, the restaurant in the Nidhogg Hall, by Nada, Anna Bjornsson's PA. A wide smile beamed on her face when they stepped in.

"Mr. Mayor! Ms. Fox! What a pleasure!" She made an inviting wide wave towards the hallway leading by the main dining area towards the offices and the kitchen. "Lady Bjornsson is expecting you."

Imogen and the Mayor followed the Serb. Nada was the exact opposite of her sister Snezha, the nurse in the local surgery. The PA was short, plump, and tended to gasp, giggle, and talk non-stop. She was dressed in a dusty pink trouser suit, perfectly cut, and hugging her small curvaceous body in the best of ways. She wore dangerously tall heels that clicked snappily on the tiled floor. She looked like some sort of a dainty, luxurious haute cuisine dessert, all fluffy and sweet - and was known to have the will of steel and the business grip of a bulldog, topped by almost fanatic loyalty towards her boss.

"All the preparations for your banquet are on schedule," the woman kept chatting while leading them up the stairs to the manager's office. "Don't worry about anything! Lady Bjornsson has been personally supervising every little detail, and Bruna has been in the loop, so to say. If the little Rosenfeld-Bjornsson decides to make their appearance before the due date, you won't even notice! And I've seen the menu ideas, and they are exquisite! I bet Marit will outdo herself for your sake! There's a reason why Le Gavroche didn't want to let her go! And it's all thanks to her that we have been listed in the top 10 of The World's 50 Best Restaurants for the past two years. And here we are!" she announced and knocked on the heavy oak door of Anna Rosenfeld-Bjornsson's office. "Lady Bjornsson, Ms. Fox and Mr. Oakby are here!"

There was no answer, and Nada exhaled 'Oh dear,' when they heard steps behind them. Anna Rosenfeld-Bjorsson showed up around the corner, a thick stack of papers in her hands, her mobile pressed to her shoulder with her ear.

"No, no, I can't! No, you just–" she was talking quickly, while reading something on the top page. "Yes, sötnos, it is very sweet of you, but I still can't. I've got a hundred things to do, and–" She listened to the person on the other end for a second, and then exclaimed, "Nikolasha! I can't just drop everything and go to Paris with you. No, not even 'for a day or two!'"

When she saw them at her door, she threw a quick look at her watch, cringed, and waved the papers in her hands in the air. Nada dashed to her and grabbed the documents.

"I'm hanging up now, Nikolasha," the manager stated firmly. "I've got clients waiting, and–" She choked on her words, clearly flustered by something Niklas Bjornsson - and that was definitely him on the phone - rumbled into her ear. "Oh you..." she muttered and gave Imogen and the Mayor an apologetic smile. She then half-turned away from them and quietly said into the phone, "Go, jump into your pool to cool off" and added something in Swedish.

She hung up and pulled a professional smile onto her face, tucking one side of her glossy, impeccable black bob behind her ear.

"I apologise for the delay." 

Imogen knew that the woman was half-Tatar, half-Russian Jewish. She had a vaguely Asian appearance; slanted, dark-green eyes; and freckles peppering her elegant straight, narrow-bridged nose. She came from a humble, immigrant background, but carried herself with dignity and modesty worthy of one of the oldest families in Fleckney.

"There's no delay," Imogen reassured the woman. "We're early, and besides it was such a short notice. Thank you for squeezing us in."

Nada opened the door to the office, and Imogen and the Mayor followed the manager.

***

Once all of their real questions were answered, and relevant changes were made to their banquet plan, Lady Bjornsson put her Montblanc aside.