of his show. Mercifully, little of it had been heard by either Lilah or T.S. At least the loud music was good for something. "Let me refresh your drinks," Worthington demanded suddenly. He grabbed the glasses out of their hands and hurried away before they could protest.
"Good grief." T.S. took out a handkerchief and mopped his brow. "That man talks a mile a minute. Is he on some sort of medication?"
Albert stared at him strangely. "Medication?" he repeated, casting an amused glance at Lilah, who had the good grace to pretend not to notice.
It incensed T.S. nonetheless. He suddenly wanted to be anywhere but where he was. Lance Worthington was a sleazeball. These people were joy seekers. The women were tramps. And Albert was the worst of them all. He was a supercilious, conceited and pompous jerk. So what if he felt out of his element here? He should be proud he did not fit in. And Auntie Lil could just forget the murder investigation if it meant he had to hang out with this crowd. Lance Worthington was a nasty can of worms, but T.S. saw no connection to Emily's death here and he wasn't going to waste any more time than necessary subjecting himself to aural assault and being humiliated by some wealthy nitwit. As soon as he could swing it, they were leaving.
So indignant were his thoughts that he automatically grabbed the healthy drink offered by a returned Lance Worthington and gulped down a fourth of it.
"I'll leave you to enjoy yourselves," Worthington murmured. He backed away and headed for a plump mogul in a pin-striped suit who was having a little trouble maneuvering up from the deep leather couch. The fact that he was stone cold drunk did not add to his sprightliness.
"Could I speak to you alone?" Albert murmured to Lilah behind T.S.'s back.
T.S. took another gulp of Scotch and turned his head just in time to see Albert grip Lilah's elbow and nod toward the kitchen. T.S. simmered. Should he let this well-bred interloper steal Lilah from his grasp like that? Was he a man or a mouse or what? Would it be totally appalling to punch Albert in the nose? There was, after all, a first time for everything.
Inaction forced the issue. "Theodore," Lilah whispered into his ear. "I need to talk to Albert alone for a moment. Would you excuse me?" She squeezed his arm briefly but did not wait for a reply. Albert guided her smoothly toward the kitchen. T.S. watched as the pair withdrew into a corner by themselves and began to whisper.
Well, he wouldn't dignify such proceedings by standing there and spying. He moved away into the sunken living room and found a seat on the edge of one of the leather couches. A small blonde who was curled up on the floor next to the passed-out man eyed T.S. carefully, then slithered up closer. "Where's your date?" she asked in what she probably thought was a seductive manner but, instead, made T.S. feel as if a snake were crawling up one of his legs.
"If you're asking if I need a date, I can assure you the answer is no," T.S. answered firmly. She pouted and withdrew, glaring at him with wounded pride.
My, how time flies when you're having fun, he thought glumly. Already his drink was empty. The thought had scarcely formed in his mind when Lance Worthington popped into view. "New drink!" the producer called out gaily. "Allow me, please." T.S. could hardly protest. He didn't have the time. The glass was jerked from his hand and Worthington gone before he could blink. He waited for the return of his by now necessary anesthetic and surreptitiously stole a glance into the kitchen area. Lilah and Albert were still deep in conversation and whatever Albert was saying, T.S. didn't like it. The man's face had a deep scowl on it and he was gesturing with one hand. Who was he? How did Lilah know him? What was he doing here and who did he think he was to snatch Theodore Hubbert's date right out from under his nose?
Good breeding or not, T.S. had half a mind to go ahead and punch him in the nose after all. In fact, he was seriously contemplating such an action when Lance Worthington appeared with a new drink. "Bottoms up!" he said cheerfully, bestowing the fresh glass on T.S.
"Need company? We've plenty to choose from." He let his tiny hands flutter over