Noticing that Vanna was fingering a brooch on the lapel of her sweater, Daisy asked, “What did Rowan do?”
That brooch gave Daisy chills because she’d seen it on Margaret’s body . . . covered in clotted cream.
Without hesitation, Vanna fingered the piece of jewelry again. A small smile slipped across her lips. She unpinned the brooch and held it in her hand. The diamonds with the amethysts twinkled in the daylight from the window.
“Rowan gave me Margaret’s favorite piece of jewelry. I’ve admired it from the moment I saw it. That was the day I saw Margaret for the first time after she returned to Willow Creek.”
A thought flitted through Daisy’s mind. If this brooch was Rowan’s wife’s favorite piece of jewelry, why wouldn’t he want to keep it?
Then again, maybe he simply wanted to do something nice for his wife’s sister.
“Did Rowan tell you where the brooch came from?” Daisy asked.
“You know, I didn’t think about that,” Vanna answered. “Margaret never said where it came from. I just assumed Rowan had given it to her because she loved it so much. She wore it often. It seemed to be a talisman for her. She’d run her fingers over the diamonds and the amethysts as if she couldn’t believe someone cared enough to give it to her.”
“You’ll treasure it,” Daisy offered.
“Yes, I will.” Vanna kept her gaze on her hand.
“Margaret never wanted a home and family the way I did. She always wanted to be famous. Acting was the path to that and she wanted to be the best actress she could be. She liked putting herself in different roles. The parts were all sides of herself. She never communicated with our parents. They were angry with her and bitter that she’d left without a second thought or a look back.”
“That’s such a shame. Maybe they could have reconnected.”
“I doubt it. They were so disappointed in her. I was fortunate. When I left the faith to marry, it took a while, but my parents could see that I’d married a good man and that we were going to raise our children in the tenets of our faith. I think they finally saw that Margaret and I had to choose our own paths. If she would have tried to communicate with them, tried to come back, they might have accepted her back in. I don’t know. Dad had a heart attack and died while she was incommunicado, and then Mom went to live with her brother’s family in Indianapolis. She’s infirm now and it’s too difficult for her to travel. I’d like to think she would have come for Margaret’s funeral if she could. I told Margaret she should call Mom and try to make peace, but Margaret said she was happy with Rowan and wouldn’t rock the boat by trying to adhere to our mother’s ideas of what was right and wrong.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Mom’s physically in a bad place. But I also think the emotional toll would have been as hard on her as the physical toll. It was hard enough for her to digest the fact that Margaret had died let alone that she’d been murdered. You know, I loved my husband. He was my partner. The children always came first, and if there’s any glue in a marriage, it’s children. I’m not sure that Margaret and Rowan had glue. Rowan traveled so much, and even though Margaret had the Little Theater, I think she was becoming terrifically bored with Willow Creek.”
With a sigh, Vanna re-pinned the brooch onto her lapel. “I’m going to try to find mementos of me and Margaret and keep the memories alive. We were so close as kids. I’m just not sure what happened.”
Daisy knew what happened. Life happened. The two sisters had taken different paths just as she and her sister Camellia had. Those different paths had led them away from each other instead of toward each other.
After Daisy had consoled Vanna as much as she could, Vanna wiped her tears away and they returned to the reception. Daisy spotted Zeke Willet speaking with Jasper Lazar and she wondered why. Something to do with the problems he’d had with Rowan about his apartment? Or maybe just making conversation to find out whatever he could.
Jonas and Detective Rappaport both had told her that Zeke was a good detective. However, during the last murder investigation, he had missed clues. He hadn’t been thorough enough. Because of Jonas?
Jonas was standing at the window in the dining room and peering outside into a yard that was abundant with flowers until this time of year. He could be checking out whoever was coming and going, or . . . he could be thinking. Daisy went to him, studying his strong back and his broad shoulders. He looked good in a suit, but he rarely wore one. There was no need for him to. She had to admit he looked as good in a flannel shirt and jeans. Jonas was one of those men who could wear any clothes with ease. At least that was her opinion.
When she laid her hand on his shoulder, he smiled though he didn’t turn around.
“How did you know it was me?” she asked.
“Because I noticed you were wearing those black flat ballerina shoes this morning. I know the sound of them on the wood floor.”
His detective instincts at work again.
“And I know the scent of your shampoo,” he went on, “not to mention the way you touch me when you want to know what I’m thinking.”
“Sometimes I believe you’re psychic,” she murmured.
Now he did turn toward her. “Not psychic. I know body language. Sounds kept me alive in the field. I could hear when and how someone approached.”
“In other words, spidey senses.”
He chuckled. “If you want to call them that. Mine are duller now than they used to be. Where have you been?”
“With Vanna. You know how grief
