up the offer of a meal from Chef Meg.'
'It would be rude, wouldn't it?' said Birdie with a pleased air. 'Can we help?'
'Why don't you set that table over there for four, pour some cranberry juice, and sit down. This'll be ready in three minutes. If Quill gets the chafing dish heated.'
There was a pleasant bustle in the kitchen. Birdie and Bea found place mats, napkins, and exclaimed critically over the sterling flatware. (It was Gorham.) Quill lighted the Sterno under the chafing dish, put out the scones, and began to feel less like an alien and more at home for the first time since she'd come to Florida. The widows sat down at one end of the ornately carved dining room table and waited for Meg to make her omelet.
'Marvelous,' Bea said, nibbling the scone. 'Cranberry, is it?'
'And raisin,' Meg said. 'Lot of sweet stuff this morning. Quill needs the energy. Put a trivet or something under the chafing dish, Quill, and bring it to the table. And I need the tray with the brandy, oranges, and sugar.' She talked as she poured a quarter cup of the egg mixture into the heated pan and watched it puff up, carefully pulling the edges away from the rim with a wooden spatula. She flipped it with an expert twist of her wrist, waited a moment, then slid the omelet onto a plate. 'You've heard about what happened last night.'
'We certainly did,' said Birdie. 'That's why we're here.' She accepted the omelet, took a bite, and beamed. 'We were right, Bea.'
'I was right, you mean. I was the one with the idea.' She watched closely as Meg sprinkled powdered sugar over her eggs. 'Little more than that, dear. That's fine. Thank you. You see' - she turned to Quill - 'we want you and Meg to take over the institute.'
'That's very kind of you, Bea,' said Quill. 'But Meg and I are going home. As soon as I tell Tiffany we're resigning.'
'You're getting ahead of the game, Bea,' Birdie said. 'Typical of you. Now you two listen to me.' She put her fork down. 'Verger's disappearance has made a considerable difference in things.'
'His death was a terrible, terrible thing,' Quill said. 'His own sons. It's hard to believe, but...'
'Oh, you're not one of those who believes that non- sense about Corrigan killing him?' Bea crumbled a bit of scone with one hand. 'The police coerced that confession from him, poor boy.'
'He always was a fragile child,' Birdie added. Meg set her omelet in front of her and began on Quill's serving. 'Thank you, dear. Do you remember how much trouble Cressy had with him when it was time to send him to school?'
'Wait just a cotton-pickin' minute.' Meg shut the Sterno off with a snap of the lid. 'You think the police coerced that confession?'
'Well, of course they did! After a good night's sleep, I the poor boy came to his senses. He's under the care of a psychiatrist now. Cressy's simply frantic.'
'I'll just bet.' Meg dumped Quill's omelet - without the sauce - onto her plate.
'Meg,' Quill said.
'Hush. Eat your eggs.' She scowled at Birdie. 'This is the same poor boy who tried to ram our boat and sink us last night out on the water. The same poor boy who held the boat as steady as he could so that his creep of a brother could try to drown my sister! Fragile? Mentally ill? That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard in my life.' She eyed Quill's plate. 'That omelet's raw.'
'I don't want it right now, anyway.' Quill shoved the plate away. 'So this is the story, is it? This is how the Taylor boys are explaining their attempt on our lives last night? What about the fact that they substituted newspaper for the real ransom money? They can't explain that away, can they?'
'They thought you were the kidnappers, of course.' Birdie took a few sips of cranberry juice. 'And that business about newspaper being substituted for the money is nonsense.'
'We saw it!' Meg shrieked. 'We saw it with our own eyes.'
'I'm sure you thought you saw it,' Bea said kindly. 'No one believes you two would lie on purpose.' She looked at them solemnly. 'You know they heard from the kidnappers again last night.'
'They couldn't have!' Meg said. 'There aren't any kidnappers. Verger Taylor's dead.'
Bea shook her head slowly. 'I don't know what you girls were doing this morning. It was allover the news. The kidnapper called with a second ransom demand. Mr. Hawthorne got the call. He's been Cressy's lawyer for years and, of course, he's unimpeachable.'
'We've fallen down the rabbit hole,' Quill said to no one in particular. 'And what were the kidnappers' demands this time?'
'Nobody knows the details. There's a great deal that's been said, Quill, not that I believe for a minute that the police involving amateurs almost cost two more lives in addition to that poor security guard. But a great deal has been said about how you two almost got those poor boys killed. Of course, it is possible that one of you may have been hurt as well. You two and the Taylor boys, messing around in that awful weather last night, each thinking the other was responsible for the tragedy... it's a mercy no one was hurt.'
Quill looked at Meg. Meg crossed her eyes, looked at the ceiling, and muttered, 'We are not crazy. We are not crazy.'
Quill turned to the widows. 'We aren't making a bit of headway here. Tell me, Birdie, what do you know about this phone call from the kidnappers?'
'Apparently they were quite upset about the botched delivery last night. And then Verger himself got on the phone, for just a moment, poor man. He said 'they're trying to kill me' and they cut him off, just like that.'
Quill opened her mouth, thought the better of it, and shut it again. Birdie continued. 'But it was Verger, no question about it. They did one of those voice thingys - what d'ya call 'em, Bea?'
'They matched the voice over the phone with Verger's voice on a tape and the little thingys matched. The sound waves.'
