gazed at us much like Lady Catherine’s calculating stares.
What were we supposed to say? Aunt Winnie rallied. “I’m sorry for your loss, dear, and I wish you all the best. What are your plans now? Are you going to stay here?”
Polly’s lips pulled down in a slight frown. “No. Father left the house to me, but I don’t particularly want it. It feels more like a prison than a home. I suppose I’ll sell it.”
“Really?” said Aunt Winnie. “Where are you planning on going?”
“Oxford. I’ve been accepted into their graduate program for art history.”
“What about Lauren?” I asked. “Do you think she’ll stay here?”
Polly shook her head. “No. I asked her, but she doesn’t want the place, either. I suspect she feels the same as I do.” Polly regarded the expensively furnished room with little affection. “It’s funny,” she said. “I never really liked Lauren. I always thought she was sort of vapid, and after all, she was married to my father, which wasn’t exactly a point in her favor.” Polly glanced over to where Lauren stood with Denny tucked under one arm. She was trying to manage her cell phone with her free hand. “But now, I think we both understand each other a little better. She’s not that bad once you get to know her.”
Polly waved her hands as she tried to find the words to go on. “My father controlled everyone and everything in his life. Lauren and I were just pawns in his world and we both ended up doing things we didn’t want to. Now that he’s gone, well, we can be ourselves.”
Someone called to her and she excused herself. I thought about what she had said. She was by all accounts a determined young woman who had hated having her freedom curtailed by an overbearing father. She was young. She was pretty. And thanks to Gerald’s untimely death, she was now quite rich.
Aunt Winnie and I walked over to Lauren to offer our condolences. Seeing our approach, she smiled and signaled that she was almost done with her call. “All right,” she said into the phone. “I’d better go now. I’ll call you later. I love you, baby.”
Clicking the phone shut, she turned to us. “Sorry, that was Jamie. He couldn’t be here today, which is probably for the best. Having to deal with this would be too much for him right now.”
The memory of Lauren’s phone call the night of the murder came back. What had she said? “I love you, baby.” Of course! Lauren hadn’t been talking to a lover—she’d been talking to her son, Jamie. The one she’d do anything for. Would she have killed for him?
Lauren shifted Denny, holding him in both arms. Seeing me, his fat little tail thumped wildly and he strained to be let down. Thankfully, Lauren did not comply with his wishes. I was in no humor to have my only pair of stockings mutilated by a lusty pug. After a few futile lunges, he went limp and merely panted longingly at me.
“Thank you both for coming,” Lauren said. Wearing a simple black dress that set off her deep tan to perfection, she looked stunning. Before I could stop myself, I blurted out, “You’re so tan!”
Lauren glanced complacently at her tawny arms, saying, “I found a fabulous tanning salon downtown. I’ve been trying to get my base tan in good shape. I don’t want to go to Bermuda looking pasty.”
“Bermuda?” I echoed.
Lauren nodded and stroked Denny’s fur with her glossy pink nails. “Yes, I leave next week. Of course, I still have to clear the trip with Detective Stewart, but I don’t think it will be a problem.” She smiled at me, and I wondered if she thought she was going to charm Detective Stewart into letting her go. If that was the case, she had another think coming. Say what you might about the man (and I could say plenty), Detective Stewart didn’t strike me as someone who let feminine charms influence his work.
“Are you going with anyone?” Aunt Winnie asked.
Lauren shook her head. “Not this time. I wish I could bring Jamie, but I don’t think he’s ready to leave South Carolina yet. I hope to take him next year. Who knows, maybe we could even move there. I’ve never been a fan of the cold. Bermuda might be just the place for us to start over.”
Changing the subject, Lauren now said, “I heard about that poor woman, Ms. Tanner. Do they really think the person who killed Gerald also killed her?”
“I think so,” I said. Lauren shook her head, sending her blond hair cascading over her shoulders. “How awful. She was a strange little woman, though. A terrible gossip.” Linnet passed unnoticed behind Lauren as she said this. I saw a faint blush of crimson stain Linnet’s neck as she quickly moved away. “Well, in any case, I hope they catch him soon,” Lauren said, oblivious to her insensitivity. “What about her friend, Mrs. Westin. Does she have any idea who did it?” Lauren’s tone was light, but her hand was not. Tense and rigid, it hovered above Denny’s fur.
“No,” I said. The hand relaxed and resumed its affections.
“What are your plans?” asked Aunt Winnie. “Polly says that neither of you are going to stay here.”
“That’s right,” said Lauren. “I want to find a place near Jamie. I’m hoping that he’ll be able to come live with me soon. He’s really making progress.” She smiled. “You know, for the first time, I really think everything is going to turn out all right.” A petite woman in a red dress came to offer Lauren her condolences and ask for a phone number of a mutual acquaintance. Lauren shifted Denny into her right hand to write out the number with her left. As she did so, Denny broke free and leaped from her arms. I jumped back, but he bolted past me. Great. No wonder I couldn’t keep a boyfriend; I couldn’t even hold the interest of a horny pug.
“Denny! No!” Lauren yelped, but he ignored her and ran across the room. Turning to me, Lauren said, “Elizabeth? Would you mind terribly getting Denny? Thanks.”
She turned back to the woman, leaving me no option other than to retrieve the wayward Denny. I followed him down the hall toward the back of the house, muttering obscenities under my breath. As I rounded the corner, I walked straight into Peter. His face was contorted with anger. Putting his arm out, he tried to turn me around. I spun out of his grip. “What are you doing?” I asked. “I have to get Denny.”
“No, you don’t,” Peter said briskly. “Turn around.”
“Peter! Stop this. What’s the matter with you?”
“Nothing,” he bit out through clenched teeth. “I don’t want you to go in there.”
I glanced at him in surprise. Why was he so angry? “Peter! This is ridiculous. Let me go.”
Abruptly releasing me, he said, “Fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Pushing past him, I said, “Warn me about what? You know, sometimes you can be so …” But the rest of my words died on my lips. In the sunroom stood Daniel and Polly. Kissing.
I backed out slowly so as not to be heard, but in truth they were so wrapped up in each other that I probably could have led a marching band in there without either of them noticing. The implications of what I’d seen made my head spin. Daniel and Polly? Not Daniel and Lauren. Not Daniel and me. How long had they been together? When had Polly morphed into a little Lolita, or had she been that way all along? And what did it mean?
As I backed into the hall, I bumped into Peter. His arms came up around me. “I’m sorry, Elizabeth,” he said. “Are you okay?”
I was only half listening. I twisted away from his grasp. I had to go somewhere quiet and think. In addition to feeling punched in the stomach, there were more sinister implications I needed to sort out. Peter said something, but I didn’t hear him. I walked back to the sitting room where only a few days before I’d had tea with Jackie. It was during that visit that Jackie had unaccountably become upset—but about what? Daniel and Polly had been having what I had thought was a mundane conversation about smoking. But given what I had just seen, maybe nothing between them was mundane. Could Jackie have realized that as well? Could that have been what had upset her?
I was so caught up in the memory of that day that as I entered the room, I imagined I was seeing Jackie again, but it was only Linnet. She was sitting in the very same chair that Jackie had sat in. Her head was tilted to one side and she wore an expression of worry on her face. I closed my eyes, trying to remember every word that had preceded Jackie’s flustered behavior and her statement that something was wrong. What were they? If only she had told someone what had bothered her, she might still be alive. I opened my eyes and looked at Linnet. She stared back at me, her expression anxious. Had she lied before about knowing anything? Could Jackie, in fact, have hinted at what she had been thinking?
I walked toward her and she stood up. “Mrs. Westin?” I said. It was evident that Jackie’s death had taken a terrible toll on her. Her clothes, usually elegant and stylish, hung shapelessly from her frame. She was still wearing her oversize tinted glasses and her makeup seemed heavier than usual. I suspected her vanity was trying to overcompensate for her haggard appearance.
“Hello, Elizabeth. How are you?” She sounded tired.
“I’m fine, but if you don’t mind my saying so, you don’t look so good. Can I get you anything?”
