``I can handle Kitty,'' I said, although I wasn't sure I was telling the truth. Even six months after I started working for the newspaper, Kitty Keough was still jealously trying to make my life miserable. She hated that I'd been born into a world in which she would always be an outsider.
Trenton pulled me inside and closed the door. For the evening's festivities, he wore a Brooks Brothers sport coat over flannel trousers, a pin-striped shirt, and a tie decorated with reindeer--all carefully chosen by his wife. His beard was neatly trimmed, his hair impeccably combed. ``How do you like having a job? Evie thought you might have trouble adjusting.''
``Actually, the hours suit me very well. I go to parties in the afternoons and evenings, and I do my writing at home on my computer. I can e-mail my pieces anytime before midnight.''
``Sounds like a great gig. I wonder if I could get Evie hired somewhere? She spends my money faster than I can make it.''
Trenton Aquinas didn't need any more money, no matter how fast his wife could spend it. He had inherited a fortune from his father, who invented a pump for oil wells, and he was due to receive an even bigger inheritance when his elderly mother--one of the Kendricks of Main Line-- passed away. Perhaps Trenton's academic career brought in a little pin money, but it hardly paid the taxes on his Federal-style house that had once been a boarding school for young men of society.
Before I could respond, Evie appeared and greeted me cheerfully. She was a petite woman several years her hus- band's senior, but she strove to keep her figure trim enough to wear expensive, tailored fashions. Tonight she looked svelte in plum silk with a pearl necklace and matching ear- SLAY BELLES 51 rings. She swept me into their home to meet the other guests and admire her decorating skills.
The grand salon of the Aquinas home showed Evie's penchant for endless shopping. Flowered chintz pillows and dozens of fussy bibelots mixed with fine Hepplewhite furni- ture that had come from Evie's old-money Philadelphia family, the Cardomans. Heavy Scalamandre draperies hung in swags from the tall windows. The rose, powder blue, and buttercream colors were also echoed in velvet upholstery and the subtle shades of the enormous floral rug. Nautical prints hung at precise intervals on the walls.
Unlike Lexie, who had the confidence to live in a simple, self-effacing sort of home, Evie seemed to need to acquire more and more belongings to confirm who she was.
``Your home is more stunning than ever,'' I told her. ``Every little addition you make enhances the elegance.''
Having heard satisfactory praise for her efforts, Evie hap- pily went off to find me a drink.
I saw Lexie Paine talking with friends by the grand piano. She spotted me at the same instant and met me beside a tray of hors d'oeuvres on a sideboard. Lexie looked fabu- lous in an understated Valentino suit cut to emphasize her slender figure. In her ears, diamonds and sapphires spar- kled together.
``Sweetie,'' she said, giving me a hug. ``You ran off last night without a word!''
``I'm sorry, Lex. I should have said good-night, but--''
``No excuses required.''
``Michael got me home before I fell apart.''
Lexie's brows twitched. ``Did you really fall apart? I'm so sorry, darling. You had a very rough night. I hope you feel better today.''
``Actually, I had a surprising visitor this morning.''
``Do tell.''
Lexie nibbled on mushrooms and made appropriate ex- clamations when I told her about Cindie Rae's call, Alan's arrest, and my visit to Pinky Pinkerton's home.
``Do you know Kerry Pinkerton?'' I asked.
``Only from an occasional country club wingding. She's not very social. And she hasn't any money of her own, so she doesn't need my services.'' 52 Nancy Martin
``No money at all? Didn't her parents leave her some- thing?''
Lexie shook her head. ``Her mother's still alive, living in California and hoarding her cash in case she decides to open a yoga studio or something. Kerry's got a trust fund somewhere, but she doesn't take possession until she's thirty. Until then, she's on a shoestring, I gather. That is, unless a sporting goods company asks her to be a spokes- person. Then she'll be rolling in dough.''
``But she has to become a better player first, I assume?''
``She's getting to that level. I always assumed Pinky took care of her.''
``Yes,'' I said.
``What is it?'' Lexie asked.
I attempted to wipe my expression clean. I didn't want to spread rumors about Pinky and Kerry, even to my best friend. Not until I was sure.
I changed the subject. ``What about Alan and his depart- ment store, Lex? Last night you told me the store might be for sale.''
``The drumbeats were noisy all day today. I understand the retailers who wanted to buy Haymaker's are rethinking their offers. With her sales figures, Popo was one of the big assets. Of course, a murder in the store isn't exactly great publicity either.''
``Do you know anything about shrinkage?''
``Stolen goods? Sure.'' Lexie ate another mushroom and reached for a napkin. ``All stores have shrinkage.''
``I mean goods stolen by employees.''
``Haymaker's is no different from any gift shop or mall emporium. A lot of goods disappear.'' She chewed thought- fully and wiped her fingers. ``Now that you remind me, I think Haymaker's had a big number in their shrinkage column.''
``Popo mentioned something to me before she died. She blamed a fellow employee.''
``I wouldn't put it past Popo to have some sticky fin- gers herself.''
``Why do you say that?''
``I dunno. Even with her Christmas bonuses, how could she afford that wardrobe of hers, let alone the money she gave me to look after?'' SLAY BELLES 53
``She had some cash put away for a rainy
