Sybil jerked free, walked blindly to the mantel, and rested her raven-dark head against its rich rosy-red wood, the framed picture held tight in her arms.
'We're trying, Sybil,' Annie offered, and knew it was for lorn.
'The fastest way to find out . . .' Max paused, then pressed on, '. . . what happened to Courtney is to find the person who killed the Judge.'
For a long, long moment that dark bowed head didn't move. Then slowly it lifted, and Sybil turned to face them.
The sight of her face brought a chill to Annie's heart. There was no mercy in it. And no avenging angel ever spoke with greater resolution. 'I will know. No matter what it takes, no matter how long, no matter what 1 have to do, I will know. Old sins have long shadows, that's what my grandmother always said to me. I never knew what it meant—until now. There were so many sins at Tarrant House, weren't there? Whitney was lazy and weak. Charlotte—oh, I don't know that we can call her sinful. She's too insignificant, isn't she? Char lotte is one of those obstinate, boring, irritating people who don't have any core to them, so they have to fasten onto something other than themselves. With some people, it's reli gion. Or money. Or sex. But poor old boring Charlotte, it's the Tarrant Family. Oh, Christ, the almighty Tarrant Family!' The words were torn from her. 'And then there's Milam. A lot more room for speculation there, you know. Milam's deeper than you think. He always seemed to acquiesce when the Judge was alive, whatever was demanded, but all the while, underneath, he kept worming and squirming for what he wanted. Julia—' Her voice was puzzled. 'I never understood why Julia stayed. Why didn't she take Missy and leave? What could possibly have held her there? Milam's affair had started, even then, even when Missy was just a baby.' She held out the picture in her arms, stared at it, her lips trembling. 'Missy's dead. And Courtney—' She walked woodenly toward the table and put the picture down. 'No. No.' She whirled, her face ashen, and moved blindly past them. 'No. Goddammit,
no...'
'I know they're home,' Annie insisted. The front of the mansion was immaculate, as always, which made the heavy scent of charred wood all the more disturbing.
Max knocked again. Rang the bell, kept his finger on the button.
They could hear the peal.
And see the lights blazing on both floors.
'Unfortunately,' Max said grimly, 'we aren't cops. We don't have a search warrant. Nobody has to talk to us.'
Annie jerked to look to her left. Had the drapes moved at that second window on the ground floor?
But what if they had?
Charlotte and Whitney Tarrant were under no compulsion to permit Annie and Max Darling to enter Tarrant House.
But lights were also shining next door, at Miss Evangeline Copley's house.
Annie nodded her head decisively. 'Let's see what Miss Copley has to say. She's the one who heard Ross and the Judge quarrel that afternoon.'
Max resisted at first. 'We know all about that, Annie. And isn't she the ghost-lady Laurel talked to? Listen, Annie, I'm sure ghosts are fine, but they're no help to us. No ghost spirited Courtney away or set fire to the Tarrant Museum.'
'Maybe Miss Copley saw something last night.' Annie pushed away the memory of that flash of white, deep in the Tarrant garden. That was long before a hand splashed gasoline on the museum. 'She's an old lady. Maybe she doesn't sleep much.'
Annie led the way.
Max had just raised the knocker when the door popped open and milky blue eyes peered out at them.
'Miss Copley, we're here because Miss Dora Brevard—'
'I know all about you young people, and yes, I want to help. Come right in.' White curls quivered as Evangeline Copley nodded energetically and held open the screen door. 'To think that dear young man has lain a-mouldering in his grave all these long years, blamed for a heinous crime! Why, it sets my heart afire with anger.' The soft voice rose indignantly. She was as tiny as Miss Dora but as different as a Dresden shepherdess from a witch's peaked hat. A fleecy white angora shawl draped her shoulders. Her blue linen dress matched her eyes. She clapped together plump pink hands. 'Now, I know things that aren't generally known.' She trotted ahead of them into a parlor that would have been a perfect setting for Jenny Lind. Two Regency sofas faced each other oneither side of the fireplace. A magnificent French gilt mirror hung above the Adam mantel. The ceiling medallion that supported the glorious chandelier was also gilt. Golden bro cade hangings decorated elaborate recessed windows.
Max gave Annie an I-told-you-so look and, when they took their seats in
