the murder,” he continued. “Does anyone have a favorite suspect they’d like to share with the group?” He smiled as he said this, but his tone was grim.
Lauren was my bet. Could she have ever loved Gerald? They were such complete opposites—and not in the charming way that some people say “attract”—that I found myself agreeing with the local gossip: she must have married him for his money. Plus there was her phone call on the night of the murder. In addition, her behavior and appearance today were about as far as you could get from a grieving widow. Emotionally cool was a better description. I said as much.
“You may be right,” said Aunt Winnie thoughtfully. “But then again, if Lauren did have something to do with it, wouldn’t it make more sense for her to appear distraught?”
“And, as much as you may personally want to, you can’t condemn her simply because she’s a beautiful woman,” said Peter.
“I’ll admit that you both have a point,” said Randy. “But Lauren is not, shall we say, the cleverest of women. It may not have occurred to her that she should wear black and cry a lot.”
“Which is only another point in Lauren’s defense,” said Peter. “She just doesn’t strike me as clever enough to pull something like this off.”
Aunt Winnie nodded in agreement.
Randy looked unconvinced. “Perhaps, but there’s something else.” He paused. “I feel funny telling you this, like I’m breaking a kind of trust, but Lauren was in my store a few weeks ago. She bought several books dealing with legal contracts—prenuptial agreements, to be specific.”
“Really?” said Aunt Winnie. “That is interesting. If Lauren wanted out of the marriage but was bound by an ironclad prenup, then she had an excellent motive for killing Gerald.”
“I would have thought just living with Gerald was motive enough,” I added.
“I agree with you there,” said Peter. “The question becomes, then, whether Lauren wanted out because Gerald was so odious or because someone else was so attractive.”
For some unknown reason, they all looked at me. Well, not for some unknown reason. I knew damn well why they were all looking at me: Daniel. I refused to let them get to me.
“You’re blushing, dear,” Aunt Winnie said mildly, as she sipped her coffee. Peter rolled his eyes in disgust.
I ignored them both. “Well, how do we go about finding out whether Lauren was considering divorcing Gerald?”
“My niece works in a law office in town,” said Randy. “The paralegals are all very chummy. She might be able to help us.”
“Isn’t that privileged information?” asked Peter.
“Probably,” said Randy, as he thoughtfully stroked his white beard, “but it’s still worth checking into.”
“What about Polly?” I asked.
“What about her?” said Peter. “You think she might know if Lauren was planning to divorce Gerald?”
“No. I mean what about the possibility that Polly killed Gerald? Maybe she was sick of his controlling ways and wanted her freedom. By all accounts, Gerald wasn’t going to let her go to Oxford for the graduate program, yet she still applied for a passport. Why?”
“I think there’s another possibility that we’re overlooking,” said Peter. “Daniel. It’s all over town that he and Lauren were carrying on. He might have killed Gerald hoping to get Lauren and the money.”
“I know that’s the rumor,” I said, “but I haven’t seen anything that would suggest that they’re more than friends.” I quickly told them about Lauren’s phone call the night of the murder. “And, if Lauren is having an affair, then that phone call I overheard points to someone other than Daniel. And in any case,” I added in a rush, “some of Daniel’s behavior suggests that he’s not interested in her at all.” I busied myself by pouring more coffee.
“I’ve no doubt that you haven’t seen anything between them,” said Peter. “In fact, I think it’s far more likely that they would pretend to be just friends, or even to be interested in someone else.”
His words felt like a physical slap and my face blazed. “Are you suggesting that the only reason Daniel might show interest in me is so that I can serve as his cover?” I asked angrily.
“I think you’re being foolish if you haven’t considered that possibility,” Peter retorted. “How long have you known him, anyway? A day and a half? Haven’t you wondered yourself why he’s giving you such a hard sell?”
“Well, according to you, the idea that he should actually find me attractive and interesting is absurd. Apparently it’s easier for you to believe that he’s using me.”
“That’s not what I meant!” Peter said.
“The hell it wasn’t!”
Aunt Winnie interrupted us. “Stop it, both of you!” she said sternly. “If we’re going to find out who killed Gerald, we have got to stick together. I need you both to help me. Remember, we’re a team.”
“I’m sorry, Elizabeth,” Peter said. “I didn’t mean it the way you thought. Aunt Winnie’s right, we are a team.” I was about to reluctantly accept his apology when he ruined it by adding, “And after all, as my lacrosse coach used to say, ‘There’s no I in T-E-A-M.’ ”
I stared at him. Somewhere a village was missing its idiot. And I was going to spend tomorrow shopping with him.
After Randy left, Peter and I persuaded Aunt Winnie to go to bed early. She didn’t put up much of an argument, which told me that she was far more tired than she was admitting. Peter and I cleaned up the kitchen and prepped tomorrow’s breakfast. If he sensed that I was still upset with him, he didn’t let on.
Peter had just gone up to bed when I heard the noise. It was coming from the dining room. This time, however, I wasn’t going to let Lady Catherine get the better of me. I marched into the room, flipped on the lights, and said in a loud, confident voice, “All right, you sly wench, get out!”
I don’t know who was more surprised—me or Joan Anderson.
She was standing motionless by the back door of the room, dressed in a dark sweater and slacks. Her red hair stood out around her head like a flaming halo. In her hand was a flashlight. Neither of us spoke for what seemed an eternity, although it was actually only a few seconds.
“Oh, Elizabeth, you scared me!” she said in a rush. Her hand went to her neck in a reflexive gesture. Was she kidding? I had scared her? My heart felt like it was about to leap out of my chest. “I hope I haven’t done anything wrong,” she continued. “I snuck outside for a cigarette.”
“A cigarette?” I repeated stupidly.
“Yes. I hope that’s okay. I didn’t want to smoke inside. I know I should probably quit, but …” She let the sentence hang unfinished in the air.
“I still don’t understand,” I said slowly.
Joan twisted the flashlight in her hands, so hard her knuckles showed starkly white. I doubt she was even aware she was doing it. “Well, to be honest, Henry would kill me if he knew I was still smoking. He thinks I quit. I snuck down here after he went to sleep. I’m sorry I startled you. I didn’t mean to.” Again, her hand strayed to her neck.
“But why are all the lights off?” I asked.
“Given what happened here last night, I guess I didn’t want anyone to see me in here,” she said. “I thought it might look bad.” She let out a small, nervous laugh. “But, of course, I see now that this looks even worse.”
She walked toward me and I took an involuntary step back. She was still clutching the flashlight in her hand, one of those large, heavy models that would do a very neat job of bashing in someone’s head. She noticed my movement and stopped short.
I didn’t say anything. She continued to stare at me and twist the flashlight. There seemed nothing more to say, so she finally said good night and moved toward the door. When she reached the doorway, she turned around. For a second I thought she was going to say something more. She didn’t. She scanned the room, gave me a slight smile, and turned to go. As she scurried across the foyer, I saw her hand unconsciously reach up to her bare neck again, seeking comfort from something that was not there.
CHAPTER 12
