Karen looked from her to Tanya, who had retreated behind her napkin. "Oh, hell," she said. "I guess it is funny. Sort of. But it certainly isn't romantic."
"That's the right attitude." Peggy sobered. "I'm sorry for Cameron, though. He's too thin-skinned for his own good. I'll bet he's a lot more embarrassed about this than you are."
"I'll bet he's not," Karen muttered.
They had finished their meal and were waiting for coffee when Peggy, who sat facing the tables at the front of the restaurant, said under her breath, "Brace yourself. Here comes one of those familiar faces, and she looks as if she's bursting with gossip."
Karen was glad she had been warned. Lisa did look pleased with herself, and that was usually a bad sign. She refused Peggy's invitation to join them for coffee. "I'm dining with a gentleman friend. I just wanted to make sure you were aware of what's being said around town. I expect Tanya's already given you her version."
"She told us what happened," Karen said, seeing Tanya's lips compress. "I hope that repulsive young man and his degenerate friends are in jail."
Lisa was momentarily taken aback, but she quickly rallied. "It wasn't Bobby's fault. Cam accused him—"
"That's not true, Lisa." Tanya was perfectly capable of defending herself. "All Cameron said was that there was some doubt as to how the fire started. Until the experts come to a definite conclusion, he's got no choice but to hold back on paying."
"If somebody set that fire, it wasn't Bobby," Lisa snapped. "He's got an alibi."
"From his buddies?" Peggy snorted.
"I didn't come over here to argue with you." Lisa was losing her temper; two bright, symmetrical patches of red showed on her cheeks. "I just thought you ought to know. And you can tell Cam he'd better stop playing the pious fool and hand over that money."
Karen was even closer to losing her temper. Lisa had looked directly at her. "Good gracious me, that sounds like a threat," she said, with a sneer as fine as any Peggy could have produced. "You can go back and tell Mrs. Fowler that she'd better stop playing the little dictator. I wouldn't advise Cameron to pay up on a claim as dubious as hers even if I had the slightest influence over him. Which I don't."
"That's not what I hear," Lisa snapped. She turned on her heel and stamped off before Karen could reply.
"Bitch," Tanya said clearly.
"One-hundred carat." Peggy didn't trouble to lower her voice either. "We can assume she hasn't anything else to sell, can't we? She wouldn't be so rude to a prospective buyer. Well, this has been a fun evening. I told you there's nothing like gossip to liven things up."
They had to pass Lisa's table on the way out. She ostentatiously ignored them, breaking into bright chatter and leaning toward her companion.
Karen remembered seeing him at the luncheon. He was a good thirty years older than Lisa, but he looked prosperous.
Not until they were on their way back to the hotel did she raise the question that had been troubling her. "It might not have been Bobby who set that fire after all."
"I don't think it was," Peggy said.
"Do you think we ought to tell the police about . . . about the manuscript?"
"About Dorothea Angelo, you mean."
"I suppose I did. It sounded so outrageous ... I can't believe she'd do such a thing."
"I see no reason to say anything just now," Peggy said thoughtfully. "It is an inadequate motive, as you yourself pointed out. We'll see what the investigation turns up. Could be the fire was accidental after all."
After they reached their room Peggy retreated into the bathroom with the telephone and Karen went to work on the manuscript. She was still at it when Peggy went to bed, so absorbed that she only mumbled unintelligibly in response to the other woman's "Good night."
It was after one before she stood up and stretched creaking muscles. Unaccustomed exercise followed by long hours of sitting had awakened aches in areas that had never ached before, but she was too excited by what she had discovered to sleep.
Tiptoeing to the bed, she bent over the motionless form. "Peggy," she whispered. "Peggy, are you asleep?"
"I was," said a gruff voice. "What do you want?"
"I've found out what the Deadly Secret is!"
Peggy opened one eye. "And you woke me up to tell me that? Frankly, my dear, right now I don't give a damn."
She rolled onto her side and pulled the blanket up over her head.
Chapter Sixteen
I thought of how unpleasant it is to be locked out; and I thought how it is worse perhaps to be locked in. ...
Virginia Woolf,
A Room of One's Own, 1929
"Sorry I was so unappreciative last night," Peggy said, offering a cup of coffee as additional apology.
Karen sat up and yawned. "Sorry I woke you up. Did you call room service? I didn't hear a thing."
"You were dead to the world. I hated to wake you, but I told the boys to be there at nine."
"I'm glad you did. Have you read it yet?"
Peggy glanced at the papers on the table. "Part of it. I resisted temptation as long as I could—"
"Why the hell shouldn't you read it? Go ahead and finish while I shower and dress."
When she emerged, fully clothed and in her right senses, Peggy was ready for her.
"Did you suspect the truth?" she demanded.
"No. And don't claim you did."
"You're still grumpy. Have another cup of coffee," Peggy said, grinning. "I did suspect, believe it or not. I told you I've read dozens of the modern descendants of these books. It's only logical, if you think about it. The old lady had to know The Secret, and The Secret had to have something to do with the quarrel between the two brothers, which happened in the distant past, while Ismene was still a small child. How could the old
