“Whoa! Wait one second!” I said, making a time-out sign with my hands. Turning to Kit, I said, “What’s with the ‘us’ business all of a sudden? Need I remind you that up until today you spent a fair amount of time and energy, not to mention oxygen, making it very clear that you thought my involvement in police business was, and I’m quoting here, ‘disgraceful’?”
Kit bristled. “I—” she began, but I cut her off.
“And you,” I said, pointing an accusatory finger at Ann, “you just promised Joe not one hour ago that you wouldn’t meddle in this investigation anymore! Or have you already forgotten that?” While I wanted to do everything I could to help Ann, I also didn’t like this feeling that I’d just been cast as the den mother for the Bobbsey Twins.
“No, I haven’t forgotten,” Ann replied defensively. “And I don’t believe that I suggested anything akin to meddling. I merely said that Nana should talk to the police.” She paused, then added, “I think I’ll drive out to see her tomorrow. I can talk to her about it then. In any case, it’s been awhile since I’ve been out to see her. I owe her a visit.”
“Uh-huh. Are you forgetting that you just saw her at the funeral?” I responded.
It was Kit who waved this argument away with a brisk flip of her wrist. “Oh, please,” she said dismissively. “You know funerals are just like weddings. You never really have time to have a proper chat with anybody.”
“Exactly,” said Ann with a knowing smile. “That’s all it is, a social visit. I’ll see her and then put her in touch with Joe.”
Joe. Now I understood Ann’s desire to stay involved in this case. She wanted every reason possible to stay in touch with Joe. That I got; that I would cheerfully help her with. But I wasn’t going to let her endanger herself.
“We’ll all go with you, Ann,” said Kit. “You need your family around you at a time like this.”
I stared at Kit in astonishment. She sat calmly, a satisfied smile playing on her lips. As I said, I got Ann’s desire to get involved. It was Kit’s sudden desire for involvement that I didn’t get. At first. Then it hit me: she wanted to show me up. Even though she had just blasted me for “playing sleuth,” she was quite prepared to play the same game if she thought that it would win her points with Ann. An even stronger motivation was her desire to beat me. It was just like the summer after my first year of college. Friends of mine were having a keg party. Kit, of course, was appalled. “Underage drinking is not only stupid but it’s illegal!” she’d scoffed. Until, that is, she got invited. Suddenly it wasn’t such a moral dilemma after all. She went happily and then spent the better part of the night puking in the bushes after doing a keg stand.
I didn’t know what she was planning this time, but I didn’t want to get stuck holding her hair again while she emptied the contents of her stomach.
After lunch, Kit headed back to her house full of promises to see us again tomorrow for our drive out to St. Michaels. Ann discussed the details with Kit, as I was so disgusted with her that I didn’t trust myself to get out a civil word.
A little before eight that night, Ann and I headed to Miles and Laura’s house. They, too, lived in Georgetown, only a few quaint cobblestone streets over from Uncle Marty’s house. It was starting to get dark earlier now, and dusk had settled by the time we got there; the last of the sun’s fading rays brushed the clouds with a faint blush of indigo and purple. A soft maze of ivy crisscrossed the house’s classic three-story Georgian façade, the once green leaves now a warm red. Shallow steps led to a white paneled door above which a fanlight glowed with hospitable brightness. Laura answered our knock, swinging open the door with a welcoming smile. She was wearing a black A-line dress with cream piping and a simple strand of pearls. “Hello, dears,” she said, waving us inside. “Miles got hung up with some client at the office, but he should be here soon. Come on in.”
Ann and I stepped into the large foyer lit by an antique crystal chandelier. We followed Laura across the thick jewel-toned Oriental rug into the living room. Here Laura’s love of flowers was on full display, from the freshly cut tulips, roses, and lilies spilling out of thick vases to the brightly colored botanical patterns on the furniture. I took a seat on a yellow club chair emblazoned with red cabbage roses, while Ann and Laura sat on the couch, which was red with yellow roses.
“What can I get you to drink?” asked Laura, indicating the drink tray on the low mahogany coffee table in front of the couch.
“I’ll have a glass of Merlot, please,” said Ann, after studying her options.
“I’ll have the same,” I added.
Laura poured the wine, plus a glass for herself, then settled back on the couch. Turning to Ann, she said, “So, kiddo, how are you holding up?”
Ann shrugged before answering. “I’m not sure, actually. I feel a little like my whole world just got turned on its head over the past few days. Losing Dad was bad enough, but then add in Bonnie’s bizarre behavior and the discovery about Michael and the
Laura nodded in understanding. “I know, darling. I can only imagine how difficult this has been for you. No one believes for one minute that you had anything to do with his murder. The whole thing is just ridiculous. Miles is already working on it. And I can sympathize with your feelings at seeing Joe again.” She paused and toyed with the long stem of the wineglass, apparently trying to choose her next words carefully. “I think one reason this is so hard is that you’ve devoted yourself to the family—perhaps more so than is healthy. You’ve made this family your universe. You need to be a little more … well,
Ann shook her head. “Laura, I know you mean well, and I know you
Laura directed a melancholy smile at Ann before shaking her head as if to negate this thought. “Ann, you were young and about to begin a new life as a student abroad studying Shakespeare. Do you really think that was the best time to become engaged?”
“‘The time is out of joint,’” Ann muttered. “‘O cursed spite.’”
“Come on now,” Laura said with an indulgent chuckle. “Look at you now. You have a wonderful job, doing exactly what you one day hoped you’d be doing. You’re working at the Folger! Do you really think that would have happened if you’d settled down in St. Michaels as the wife of a policeman? Don’t get me wrong: Joe is a very decent sort of man, but I don’t think he is in your league.”
I kept my mouth—for once—firmly shut. I liked Laura. She had a good heart and she meant well, but she was a dreadful snob at times. Brought up in a wealthy family that not only extolled the virtues of higher education but also socialized primarily with other wealthy intellects, Laura had grown up equating wealth with refinement and intellectual curiosity. As such, she viewed (incorrectly) Joe’s humble beginnings and subsequent career choice as evidence of an inelegant mind.
“And speaking of work, are you still seeing Ben Wicks?” Laura asked Ann, referring to the coworker she’d gone out with a few times. Ben Wicks was a sweet, shy guy who was something of an expert on Shakespeare’s sonnets. Ann had taken him under her wing when he started at the Folger and I think he’d been grateful for her friendship. However, while they had a mutual passion for Shakespeare, it hadn’t translated into one for each other.
Ann shook her head. “No, I think we’re better as friends. Besides, he started seeing this grad student, Devon, who worked for him this summer. Ben thought he’d discovered a lost sonnet of Shakespeare’s. He and Devon got very close while they researched it.”
I already knew this story and so giggled and said, “They fell in love over poetry!” Ann laughed.
“That doesn’t mean it’s necessarily over,” said Laura.
“Devon’s a guy,” Ann added drily.
“Oh, well in that case, then it probably
