Jack and I scanned our new surroundings. I saw a strange, eclectic mix of 18^th century French, mid-century, as well as newer furnishings. It looked like an interior designer had been given a carte blanche to do the room, and he or she’d gone overboard and failed miserably in executing the task. It was one of the tackiest design jobs I’d ever seen.

I looked up at the ceiling. There were a few chandeliers hanging overhead, and at least one had to have been a Lalique crystal chandelier. It was the most tasteful piece of furnishing in the strange room, I decided. There was another one that could have been a Limoges crystal chandelier off in a dark corner at the other end of the big room, but it wasn’t lit, so it was hard to see.

We heard the voice of a woman boom out behind us. We spun around.

“Welcome Miss Palmer!” exclaimed a woman who looked somewhat plump, wore an ill-fitting suit, and had slapped on garish eye-makeup. I eyed her pensively and she returned my stare. In my heels, I could see that we made for an incongruous pair as she continued to walk towards us. I towered over her by over a foot. She was about twenty years older, and liked to wave bejeweled fingers around when she spoke. After she finished giving instructions to an assistant trailing behind her, she continued in a gravelly voice,“I see that you were admiring my crystal chandelier.”

“Yes. Lalique, I think? Very nice,” I answered politely.

“Oh, an appreciative eye, at last!” she exclaimed, dramatically clasping her hands together. “You are a wonderful breath of fresh air in this humble abode.”

“Oh, do you live here?” I asked, still observing her, trying to make up my mind about where to probe, how to approach her. She seemed too much the caricature of a Vegas madame. Was she just playing one? “It seems a nice place.”

She stepped closer, arms open. “And such pleasant manners, too! Erect, proud posture. Well-bred. Tasteful fashion. And beauty. You are altogether a very nice distraction on an otherwise slow Saturday.”

I swallowed and extended a hand to offer to shake hers. She enveloped my hand between two of hers. She pulled me along by the hand to sit with her on one of the sofas. She’d selected one of the 18^th century French ones, upholstered in powder blue silk.