Miss Dora nodded. When she spoke it was directly to Sybil and her voice had a gentleness Annie had never heard. 'Yes, Sybil, Ross was brave and gallant. You will understand that even better when we are done. For now, Sybil, I want you to listen. No matter what is said or done, we cannot change the past. But my hope is that we can lay to rest the misery that past has visited upon us and'—she paused and looked at each of the Tarrants and her voice hardened—'that we can prevent
evil from again warping and destroying the life of this fam ily.'
A sense of inexorable judgment emanated from the old woman, much like Miss Rosa Coldfield's unbending, almost demented determination to vanquish Thomas Sutpen.
Annie's eyes were focused on that narrow, intelligent, determined old face. Later, she would regret that she had not been quicker to look about the room. Would there have been a flicker of fear—or fury—on one face?
For when she did look, masks were in place: Whitney wary, Charlotte tense, Milam sardonic, Julia withdrawn.
Abruptly, Miss Dora pointed her cane at Max. 'Proceed.'
The silence was abrupt. All of the family members stared at Max and Annie. She realized that in the heat of their quarrels, they'd almost forgotten their presence. And now, not only did they remember there were strangers within the gate, they were shocked and enraged to have Miss Dora invite Max to take part. The Tarrants looked at Max with varying degrees of hostility and outrage.
Milam glared at Max, then turned to his great-aunt. 'What business is it of his?'
'My business, dear Milam,' Miss Dora said briskly. 'I have commissioned Mr. Darling to assist me in my inquiry.'
Annie kept her face blank, but she was irritated at not being mentioned. The sexist old hag.
Max didn't waste time. 'Mr. Whitney Tarrant, when did you hear the shot?'
Whitney threw back his head like an irritated horse. 'Enough is —'
'Whitney, you will cooperate with Mr. Darling. And'—a grudging addition—'Mrs. Darling.' Miss Dora lifted her cane, pointing it at each Tarrant in turn. Her black eyes snapped angrily.
Milam said brusquely, 'Oh, Christ, Whitney, go along. Or we'll be here all night.' He walked to the sideboard, poured himself a tumbler of whisky, and picked up a fresh glass for Julia and filled it. She took it greedily and withdrew to the brocade-covered chair by the fern.
'I was in the garage. I told you that,' Whitney said sullenly. 'It was just a minute or two after four when I heard the shot.'
Max turned to Charlotte. 'Mrs. Tarrant?'
Charlotte glanced at Miss Dora. 'I was . . . I think I was arranging flowers. Roses, white roses. The ones planted by Great-great-grandmother Tarrant. We were to have a dinner party that night. I remember I'd bought a new frock for it, and, later, I never could bear to wear that frock. I was in the garden shed.'
'The time?' Max prodded.
'It was just after four.' She spoke precisely, carefully. 'You're sure?'
'Why, yes. I looked at my watch.' There was growing assurance in her well-bred voice.
'Why?' Annie asked.
Charlotte's chin jerked up. Annie could see outrage in her eyes. Obviously, the chatelaine of Tarrant House wasn't pleased at having to submit to Max's questions, but just who the hell did Annie think she was?
'Why?' Miss Dora repeated sharply.
Charlotte lost her composure. 'This is simply unendurable. I will not continue this idiotic charade—'
Miss Dora fastened her steely, implacable gaze on Char lotte.
It was a battle of wills.
The outcome surprised no one.
Charlotte licked her lips. 'I don't know why I looked at my watch. But I did. And I can swear it was just after four o'clock.'
'Actually, Charlotte's right, for what it's worth.' Milam sounded bored. 'I heard it, too. A couple of minutes after four.'
'Where were you?' Max inquired.
'Upstairs.' Milam once again reached out for Julia's empty glass. He returned to the sideboard, generously refilled it, and took it back to his wife. Julia grabbed it and tipped it to her
