small blueberry muffins. Reaching out a long arm, he grabbed one and popped it into his mouth. “I just saw Aunt Winnie,” he said through a mouthful. “I guess it’s just us this morning.”
“Yes, I sent her back to bed,” I answered, watching Peter eat a second muffin. “She looks completely worn out. I’m afraid that this is starting to take a toll on her. After all, she’s not a young woman.” I pushed his hand away as he reached for another muffin.
“Elizabeth,” Peter said patiently, “she’s just tired—hell, we all are.”
“I don’t know, Peter. I’m really worried.”
Awkwardly, Peter put his hand on my shoulder. “Come on,” he said, “this isn’t like you. What’s going on?”
“I called Detective Stewart this morning to tell him about the necklace, but he didn’t seem all that interested. When another man came into his office, he thought he put me on hold, but he didn’t. I heard him discussing the case. They found a roll of reflective tape in Aunt Winnie’s desk. It matches the tape they found on Gerald. I’m supposed to meet him at four. I’m hoping that I’ll learn more from him then.”
“Wait a minute. You’re meeting with him? Why you? If he’s going to meet with anyone, shouldn’t it be Aunt Winnie?”
“I asked him to meet me,” I said. “I don’t think I should tell Aunt Winnie about the tape—at least not yet. I’m just going to tell her that I’m meeting him about the necklace.”
“Elizabeth,” Peter said, “don’t underestimate her. She’s stronger than you think. I’d back her against Detective Stewart any day. What did Detective Stewart say about the tape?”
“Just that they found it in her office. I told him about the necklace and he said he would check it out and let me know what he found out.”
Peter looked thoughtful. “Do you want me to go with you?” He reached for the muffins. Mechanically, I shoved his hand away.
“No,” I said. “I need you to stay here.”
“You got it,” he said, adding, “although I think that a task as boring as that deserves a treat.” He stared at the muffins.
“All right.” I handed him one. “But don’t you worry about gaining weight and all that?”
Peter smiled at me as he popped it in his mouth. “I have a high metabolism.”
I looked pointedly at his stomach. He sucked it in and grinned at me. Rolling my eyes, I handed him the coffee tray. “No comment,” I said. “Here, take this out and set it up. I’ll be right out with the rest.” Peter left and I quickly piled the remaining muffins on the tray with sliced melon. Taking a deep breath, I followed him.
Breakfast was a strained affair. Daniel was nowhere to be found, which was fine with me. As I surreptitiously watched Joan and Henry, I noticed a tension between them. They hardly spoke to each other. Henry stared moodily out the window with worried eyes.
I knew how he felt.
CHAPTER 16
—F. SCOTT FITZGERALD
A LITTLE BEFORE noon, coming down to meet Aunt Winnie, I found Peter in the foyer sitting in the green brocade chair normally favored by Lady Catherine. His long legs stretched out in front of him, he was munching happily on an enormous sandwich and reading
“Don’t tell me you see yourself in the role of Sam Spade.”
“Why? You don’t?” He pulled his face into an expression I could only assume was meant to suggest Bogart. It failed miserably.
“You really shouldn’t make that face. Ever. To be honest, I see you more as a Hastings or a Watson. A kind of idiot savant, but without the savant.”
Peter opened his mouth in protest, but Aunt Winnie emerged from her nap then, ending our conversation. She looked much better. She had changed into a bright red wool skirt and a green-and-black cardigan. Black boots with four-inch heels completed the ensemble. There were still faint circles under her eyes, but the spring in her step was back—insofar as there could be a spring given the absurd height of her heels. On the way to Linnet’s house, I was so relieved at Aunt Winnie’s improvement that I yelled only once—well, twice—about her driving.
Linnet’s “cottage” sat high on the dunes and backed to the beach. Designed to look as if it had been gracing the property for centuries, it was in reality only a few years old. A low stone wall ran on either side of the private driveway and along the sloping grounds. The house itself was equal parts white clapboard, black shutters, and sparkling windows. While it was probably in the same price bracket as Gerald’s, this house had a charm and grace that Gerald’s larger and more ostentatious one lacked.
Aunt Winnie rolled the car to a stop in the circular driveway just as Jackie opened the front door. She waved at us enthusiastically, her smile bright beneath yet another hat. This one was soft yellow cloth with a wide brim flopping down around her face. I realized that I had never seen Jackie without a hat and wondered if she’d been ill and on chemotherapy. That might explain the hat and the apparently dire circumstances that brought her to live with Linnet. Of course, it also might just be a part of her persona—like her insatiable thirst for gossip.
Aunt Winnie and I got out of the car and walked to the door.
“Oh! I’m so glad you two could come!” Jackie gushed, stepping aside to let us in. “Linney is so excited to see you.” I was hard-pressed to imagine Linnet Westin excited about anything, least of all a luncheon with two women she barely knew, but I said nothing. After handing over our coats, we followed Jackie down a short stone-floor corridor into the living room, where a faded green-and-gold Oriental rug swallowed up our footsteps. The room resembled a layout from a design magazine. The tall windows were festooned with tan-and-cream-striped curtains that cascaded to the floor and ended in silky puddles. Fresh flowers spilled out of antique lacquered vases. A fire blazed in the great stone fireplace. On a large sofa upholstered in heavy brocade the color of barley sat Linnet Westin. She rose like royalty to greet us.
Just as she had been on New Year’s Eve, she was perfectly coiffed. Her flawless makeup, a tad heavy for my taste, and her rose-colored cashmere sweater and cream wool pants gave her an elegant and deceptively modest appearance. The only change in her façade was that she now wore large and frankly ugly tinted glasses. She smiled in full hostess mode and greeted us politely. “Welcome,” she said with a slight incline of her synthetic silver head. “Please make yourselves comfortable.” Self-consciously, she raised her hand to the glasses and said, “You’ll have to excuse my appearance, but my eyes are light sensitive. I have special prescription contacts, but I can’t seem to find them anywhere.”
In response, Jackie ducked her head. “I’ve searched for them everywhere, Linnet. I just can’t think what happened to them. But I
Linnet pressed her red lips together in a tight smile. “Never mind, dear. I’m sure they’ll turn up.” She gestured to two identical chairs patterned in gold-and-cream silk. “Would you like a drink? Some white wine, perhaps?”
“Yes, thank you,” said Aunt Winnie. “That would be lovely.”
“And you, Elizabeth?” she asked.
“I’ll have the same, please.”
“Fine.” She turned to Jackie. “Jackie?”
“Oh, nothing for me now, Linney,” said Jackie, starting to sit down on the couch.
Linnet’s smile was small and tight. “No, dear. Would you mind getting the drinks, please? I’ll have a glass of wine, too.”
Beneath the folds of her hat, Jackie’s face flushed crimson.
“Why don’t you let me get it?” I asked quickly. “I’d be happy to play bartender.”
“Thank you, Elizabeth, but that’s not necessary,” said Linnet. “Jackie knows where everything is.”
“Yes. Have a seat, Elizabeth,” Jackie said as she stood up. “I’ll only be a minute.” Without another word she
