fair share of infighting, although I’m sorry you had to witness it. We’re all tired and in shock and clearly not at our best. But I can assure you that despite how anyone might have felt about Roni, she was a part of our family and we will all do all we possibly can to help you.”
“Yes. I know you will,” said Detective Grant. This avowal was clearly more of a statement of fact than an acknowledgment of Blythe’s offer of assistance. “I understand that this is a terrible situation for you, but I am here to do a job, and that job is to find out who killed Mrs. Matthews. As uncomfortable as it may be for you, I have to consider all possibilities.” His eyes moved to Elsie, and his next words seemed directed especially to her. “Even those that include a family member.”
I wondered at the meaning of his words until I remembered that Elsie said she’d called in some favors from influential friends. I wondered if Detective Grant’s beeper message had something to do with that. If it had, it would certainly account for his annoyed expression as he faced Elsie.
Unaccountably, a chill that had nothing to do with the outside temperature overtook me. I considered the Matthews family to be an extension of my own. Suddenly, I knew that Roni’s death would have far-reaching consequences and the Matthewses would never be the same again.
“I have a few more phone calls to make,” continued Detective Grant. “But then I think I’ll talk with you, Mr. Cook. In private, if you don’t mind.”
David nodded, an obsequious smile pasted on his thick lips. “Of course, Detective,” he said in an oily voice. “I’d be happy to tell you everything I know.”
“I’m pleased to hear it. Meet me back here in fifteen minutes.”
David nodded again and ducked out of the room, no doubt having no desire to stay in the same room with Elsie.
Just as Detective Grant disappeared back into the study, the red-haired policeman returned. Studiously not stepping on the carpet, he politely coughed and said, “Mrs. Matthews? There’s a Mrs. Julia Fitzpatrick out front who says she’s a friend of the family—”
The officer got no farther. With a yelp, Elsie burst out, “Oh, dear God! Julia! The brunch! We forgot to cancel the brunch!” She stopped, a confused expression on her face. “Wait. Julia wasn’t invited to the brunch. Oh, never mind. I’ve got to call everyone!” Turning to Chloe, she said, “I’ll need your help, Chloe.”
“Of course, Mrs. Matthews,” she responded, her face flushed at this evidence of her imperfection, and hurried from the room. I was surprised at Chloe’s oversight—she was normally almost robotic in her catering perfection. But, I amended, most bookings probably didn’t include a murder. Elsie trailed after her, calling over her shoulder as she did, “Let Julia in, Officer. I’ll be right back.”
The officer left and moments later returned with Julia in tow. The change in her appearance was startling. Her hair, normally neat and tidy, now hung wet and limp around her pale face. Her clothes, too, were altered. Instead of one of her usual expensively tailored outfits she was wearing old paint-splattered jeans and a scruffy sweatshirt. By comparison, my ensemble looked almost couture. Seeing us, she nervously asked, “What’s going on? Why are the police here?” Her green eyes widening in fear, she said, “Oh, my God! Is Avery all right? Nothing has happened to him, has it?”
Blythe stepped forward. “Julia, Avery is fine. But I’m afraid there’s been a... well, Roni’s dead. She was killed last night.”
Although a soft cry escaped from Julia’s throat and her slender hands fluttered in front of her ashen face, I noticed that her eyes did not seem surprised. Instead, they sought out Megan’s before quickly focusing again on Blythe. “Do... do the police know who did it?” she asked, her voice shaky.
Blythe shook her head. “Not yet. They’re going over the guest list from last night.”
Harry returned to the room. “Dad’s all right now. Millie gave him something and is going to stay with him for a while.” He pulled up short upon seeing Julia. “What are you doing... I mean... Why are you... ?” He stopped, gave himself a shake, and pulled Julia into a hug. “Sorry. Hi, Julia.”
Julia gripped Harry’s arm tightly. “How’s your dad?”
Harry’s brow creased and his eyes shifted questioningly to Blythe, seeming to ask if Julia had been told about Roni. Blythe nodded. “He’s pretty upset,” said Harry. “But Millie is taking care of him. I think he’ll be okay.”
Julia’s shoulders sagged in relief. “Do you think I can see him?” she asked, her voice small.
Harry paused, running his hand through his tousled hair. “I’m sure he’d like that, Julia, but I don’t think it’s such a good idea right now. He’s resting.”
Julia swallowed hard and looked up at Harry. After a moment she said, “Will you please tell him that I came by?”
Harry’s eyebrows pulled in concern. “Sure I will,” he said. “Julia? Are you feeling all right? Is there something I can do?”
Julia looked around uncertainly. “I... ” she started, but her words died upon Elsie’s entrance.
“Well, I was able to get ahold of Joan Cumberland,” said Elsie. “Between her and Chloe, they should be able to get hold of everyone in time.” Seeing Julia, Elsie stopped. “Hello, Julia. I gather you’ve heard our terrible news.”
Julia nodded. “Yes, Blythe’s just told me. I’m simply... stunned. Do the police have any ideas who did it?”
“Oh, they have ideas,” said Elsie. “I’m just not sure if they’re the right ideas. Apparently, Roni was wearing an expensive necklace that has gone missing, and among other things, the detective in charge wants to interview the guests from last night. And, of course, he”—she nodded toward the study—“wants to interview us. So, Julia, what can we do for you?”
Taking a deep breath, Julia said, “I... I wanted to see Avery. I needed to talk to him about... I didn’t realize... ”
Elsie’s eyes flickered toward Blythe. Blythe caught the glance and shrugged slightly in response.
“I’m so sorry,” Julia continued. “If there’s anything I can do... ” Her eyes slid to Megan, slumped zombielike in her chair.
Elsie followed Julia’s gaze. Glancing back at her, she asked, “Julia, have you met Megan?” Julia shook her head.
At the sound of her name, Megan raised dull eyes.
“Megan?” said Elsie in a soft voice, “I’d like you to meet an old friend of our family. Julia, this is Megan, Avery’s stepdaughter. Megan, this is Julia Fitzpatrick.”
Megan rose from her chair and held out her hand. “Pleased to meet you,” she said mechanically.
Julia took Megan’s hand, holding it tightly in her own. “Hello, Megan. Harry’s told me a lot about you. You sound like a very special young lady.” Shifting her shoulders slightly, Julia fell into her professional mode of counselor. “This must be a very difficult time,” she added, “but I hope you know that you are surrounded by people who love you.”
I noticed that Julia hadn’t gone with any of the standard proclamations of sympathy. No “I’m sorry for your loss” or “This is such a tragedy.” Julia either knew or sensed that such expressions would be wasted on Megan.
At Julia’s words, Megan ducked her head, but not before I saw that her eyes were glistening with unshed tears. Without a word, Julia pulled Megan into a maternal hug. “It’ll be okay, trust me. Everything will be all right,” she whispered. Megan rested her head on Julia’s shoulder. I had a feeling that it had been a long time since anyone had hugged Megan like that. I certainly doubted that Roni ever had. Watching them, I had a peculiar sensation of discord. Something was missing or not right, but before I could put my finger on it, the feeling slipped from my grasp.
“Harry,” said Elsie with brisk authority, “why don’t you take Julia and Megan into the kitchen and make them some tea?”
“Of course,” said Harry. “Follow me, ladies.” Julia released Megan from the hug but still held her hand. The two of them followed Harry to the kitchen.
After their departure, Colin sighed and turned to Bridget. “Guess I’d better call the airlines and see what I can do about our tickets. I should probably call my parents, too.” He glanced at his watch. “I think they’ve already left for home, though.”
Bridget made no response. She stared at the carpet, her face scrunched in confusion.
“Bridget?” he repeated. “I’m going to see about our tickets and call my parents.”
