'Oh, no!' Elaine turned pale. 'Claire worships her father.'
'I'll bet.' Quill rubbed her face with both hands. 'What about Tutti? Could she be any help? Now that's stupid. He's her son.'
Elaine zipped her dress up, slipped into a pair of pink high-heeled shoes, and took up a pearl-beaded purse. She looked at herself in the mirror, then took a double row set of pearls from the top of the dresser and fastened them around her neck.
'What do you think?'
'Elaine.'
She smiled. 'He won't do it anymore. He promised.'
'Elaine, every battered woman in the world believes that. You've got to do something to help yourself.'
'Oh, no I don't. You don't know Tutti. She'll fix it. She'll fix everything.'
Quill walked to the dining room with her. Vittorio was seated at the head of the table. The chair at the foot, near Claire, was still empty. Quill seated Elaine at Vittorio's right. She was afraid to say anything. Even to do anything. She'd heard that abusers took revenge when they were confronted-not on people like her, who would fight back, but on their original victims.
Tutti, at Vittorio's left, cast a shrewd glance at Quill, and said, 'Doesn't Elaine look wonderful, Vic?'
'Yeah. Great. How long are we supposed to wait to eat?'
'I'm sure Al will be here any minute, Daddy.' Claire crumbled a piece of bread between her fingers. 'He's late all the time. And you said he had some appointments, Marlon, didn't you? With that little creepy person? The mayor?'
'Yes, Miss McIntosh. But he should have been back by now.'
Quill let her gaze rest on Marlon for a long moment. His dark brown eyes shifted under her steady gaze. 'The sheriff's in the kitchen right now. Why don't I ask him to put out a call? If the senator's in the village, someone should know where he is. Maybe he got lost on his way back to the Inn.'
Marlon jumped. 'Oh. Hell. We don't need to do that, Miss Quilliam. He'll show up sooner or later.'
'In the meantime,' Tutti said firmly, 'I would like to eat. Your sister's prepared quite a meal for us, Sarah. I can't wait. The senator will just have to eat leftovers.'
'I'll let the kitchen know.' She smiled. She hoped no one noticed how strained it was. She resisted the impulse to whistle a few bars of 'Flying Down to Rio.' 'Enjoy your meal, everyone. And let us know if there's anything else you need.... '
'... like a bridegroom,' she muttered as she walked into the kitchen. Myles, Meg, and John were sitting at the counter, all three of them eating potted rabbit. Quill put her hands on her hips and glared at them. 'Myles, I thought you'd be halfway to the airport by now. You're not going to let him get away?'
'What's this?' John asked. 'I just got here.'
'Santini's skipped. As in beat feet, left town, took a powder?' Meg said flatly.
John whistled. 'Wow.'
'Myles swallowed a bite of rabbit and said calmly, 'You're sure about that, Quill?'
'I don't know what other explanation there could be, Myles. His room's empty. His suitcase is gone. There's an empty airline ticket envelope. If you ask me, he took that blackmail money from Nora Cahill and just... skipped, and Tutti set it up. Why aren't you after him?'
'Wow,' Meg said again. 'Does Claire know?'
'No. And they want to start eating.'
'Oh. Good.' Meg hopped off the stool. 'Bjarne! Guys! We're ready.'
Quill took Meg's place at the counter and absently began to eat the rabbit. 'This is just great,' she said. 'I'm so glad everyone's reacting to my hot tip. Myles. Are you going to put out an APB on Santini or not? He's probably halfway to Argentina now, or wherever it is that international felons escape to.' She put her fork down. 'I'm sorry. That sounded bitchy. It's just that this is so awful. Poor Claire's in there and I don't know which is worse, being jilted or being married to a murderer.'
'There's no law or statute against refusing to get married. And the senator isn't our murderer. Santini couldn't have killed either Nora or Dorset,' said Myles. 'Santini was out with the mayor and Evan Blight the night of the murders, from about eight until well after midnight.'
'When did you find that out?' asked Quill.
'This afternoon. One of the women involved in the - er - fracas with S. O. A. P. wanted to swear out a complaint against Blight and the mayor. It was a good opportunity to find out just what goes on at those meetings.'
'What does?' demanded Quill.
Myles grinned. 'Never mind. The alibi is supported by something else. Those computer files of Cahill's. It was a complete plan to sweep small-town America with a campaign called R. O. A. R., Return Our American Rights. You have the honor, Quill, of being the first candidate to kick this campaign off. Dorset, Bristol, and a number of other small town dignitaries from across New York State were involved.'
Quill bit her lip. 'So Santini didn't do it! Who, then?'
John got up suddenly, his face grim: 'Your hat, Quill. Where is it?'
'The storeroom.'
