The Palm Court tea room was a crystalline cathedral of excess. Prisms of light danced across the chandeliers, playing games with the shadows painted by the palm trees and refracting onto silver tiered stands loaded with delicate pastries and truffle sandwiches. It was the classic type of environment designed to make ordinary people feel profoundly inadequate.
Vera found it acceptable. Not because it lacked sophistication, but she couldn't stand the superficiality of most people attending those kinds of places.
She took a slow sip of her Darjeeling tea, her green eyes fixed on the woman sitting across from her.
Chloe was a vision of weaponised femininity. Draped in a midnight blue silk Dior blouse that probably cost more than a surgeon's monthly salary, she was currently using a silver spoon to ruthlessly decapitate a strawberry tart topped with crushed pistachios that looked way too green.
"You know, Vera," Chloe said, her voice a melodic, conspiratorial purr, "I am usually your biggest fan. I really am. But your timing is, quite frankly, a massive inconvenience to my portfolio."
"I have no idea what you are talking about," Vera replied smoothly, placing her teacup precisely in the centre of its saucer.
Chloe rolled her perfectly lined eyes, leaning in closer. "Arthur Brown. The hedge fund manager who suddenly forgot how to breathe yesterday. Don't give me that blank curator stare, V. It has your signature written all over his relaxed, unwrinkled forehead."
"He was a fundamentally ugly man, Chloe. Inside and out. His voice was a grating frequency that disturbed my peace. And his actions, too. I simply curated his existence."
"Well, your 'curation' cost me roughly three million dollars," Chloe sighed, stabbing a piece of the tart. "I had spent the last two months slowly convincing his business partner that I was a displaced European heiress needing a temporary offshore loan. I was two days away from the wire transfer! Now the firm is frozen, the police are everywhere, and my hard work is ruined."
"Money is vulgar, Chloe," Vera said, looking at her friend with faint distaste. "You are obsessed with accumulation. Such fixation is painfully pedestrian, leaving aside the unfortunate effect on your charm."
"Oh, please. Don't lecture me on charm and integrity," Chloe laughed, a bright, chilling sound. "We just have different mediums." Chloea winked delicately. "You like your victims quiet and still. I like mine alive and paying."
Chloe took a bite, chewing delicately. "Speaking of which, Richard has been an absolute delight lately. I convinced him last night that I was kidnapped by a cartel. Had my voice digitally altered and everything. He transferred half a million in crypto while sobbing on the phone. When I walked through the door an hour later, saying I had escaped, he kissed my feet."
Vera felt a flicker of genuine revulsion, not at the crime, but at the messiness of it. "You enjoy the suffering too much. It's chaotic."
"It's fun," Chloe corrected, her eyes gleaming with predatory amusement. "Which brings me to my next point. The police. Specifically, Detective Paul Lais."
Vera's expression remained entirely neutral, though a cold alertness sharpened her focus. "What about him?"
"He was at the country club this morning, asking questions about Arthur. Apparently, they aren't fully buying the 'natural causes' narrative," Chloe said, stirring her Matcha tea. "I spoke to him. He's sharp. Handsome, too, in a tired, overworked way."
"Do not engage with the authorities, Chloe," Vera warned, her voice dropping an octave. "You are reckless."
"I am bored," Chloe countered, resting her chin on her hand. "He was so desperate for a clue, V. He was adorable. I think I'm going to play with him a little. Drop a few breadcrumbs. Lead him in circles. It's like having a little mouse in a maze."
"A mouse can still bite if you back it into a corner," Vera said coldly. "If you point him in my direction for your own amusement, or if you try to make a profit out of this situation..."
Vera didn't finish the threat. She didn't need to. The temperature at the table seemed to drop several degrees.
Chloe held her gaze for a long moment, then smiled brightly, waving a dismissive hand. "Oh, relax, V! We are sisters in the shadows. I would never sell you out. Unless, of course, the price was utterly irresistible. But let's not dwell on hypotheticals!"
Vera studied her accomplice. Chloe was a creature of pure, unadulterated greed. She was useful for navigating the underground network and acquiring certain... materials, but she was entirely devoid of loyalty unless you're a thick banknote. Chloe would absolutely betray her if it became profitable enough.
I will need to prepare a contingency plan for you, Chloe, Vera thought, taking another sip of her tea. Perhaps accidentally splashing your tea with a few drops. Or a tragic, fatal shopping accident.
"So," Chloe chirped, completely oblivious to the lethal calculations happening behind Vera's calm eyes and perfect makeup, "are we going to Bergdorf's after this and before the meeting witht the club, or do you have more 'art' to make?"
"Bergdorf's is fine," Vera replied, picking up her napkin. "I find myself in need of a new pair of gloves."