Chapter Five

	Mrs. Izato and I arrived at Gertrude’s room five minutes early. 
	Her rooms could only be described as impressionist minimalist.  She had no bookcases, no Bric-à-brac. But each wall had a single piece of art, an impressionist painting. It hung on the wall without a frame, just the bare canvas. Each piece was a different style, a different painter; none of them famous. To the left of the living room the bedroom door was wide open, a full size platform bed was visible along with the artwork. She had a single couch in her living room, no other furniture. Of course all the bed linen and the couch were white. To the right was a dining room set up for tea, everything in white. I noticed the round table had settings for six people and six chairs.
	Gertrude breezed past me, setting down some pastries on the table. “You’ll have Dorthy’s chair in the corner, of course, since she’s sitting in one already.” She didn’t even acknowledge me as she said it, just set her things down and headed back to the kitchen.
	I made sure I stayed well out of her way as she continued setting up. Pulling a chair out to the corner of the room, and sitting down.
	One by one the STOA members trickled through the door. White gloves was naturally the first one. She was dressed in a mauve color skirt suit with white accents. 
	The other two ladies arrived together, both dressed in pink. The way they were smiling at each other, and seemed to be so pleased with each other I assumed they planned it.
	The gentleman strode in last wearing a gray pin stripe suit, gray tie with orange accents, and matching orange handkerchief folded intricately in his breast pocket. “We need to get you one of those Cosco Metal Step Stool Chairs, one of the higher up versions so you can maybe perch over us like a chair umpire.” he joked as he looked at me in the corner.
	Gertrude glanced in my direction with a flash of annoyance then let it go and returned to her company. “As you know I called together this meeting.” she rested her fingertips open handed on the table, her jewels reflecting off the overhead lighting. “So I will just get straight down to business.  Jeremy Macleve. Carson was on duty that night.”
	A collective groan was heard from a majority of the group. The women all looked to each other in shared acknowledgment of some deeper truth.
	Gertrude continued, her voice was resonated with annoyance and aggravation. “He said nothing.” she took her hands off the table and began using them to accent her tale, as her voice calmed down to refrain from emotion. “However, Jeremy’s daughter left an email address at the front desk. I emailed her, she emailed back.”
	The gentleman interrupted with impatience, “What did it say?”
	Gertrude raised her left eyebrow at him and stopped everything.