The rest of my inventory was cut short by the discovery that Aunt Winnie and I were not alone. At the far end of the room stood Daniel and Polly, their heads bent close together. Upon seeing us, they pulled apart with startled expressions. Daniel recovered first and crossed the room to Aunt Winnie and me.
“We’re sorry to interrupt,” began Aunt Winnie. “We were just bringing some food over for Lauren and Polly.”
“That’s very kind of you,” said Daniel. “But please, don’t apologize. It’s always a pleasure to see you, Ms. Reynolds, and of course you, too, Elizabeth.”
The wink that accompanied this aside to me happened so fast I wondered if I had imagined it. By now Polly had joined us. Her hair was pulled back with her signature tortoiseshell headband and she wore another shapeless dress, this one of dark blue corduroy. She looked terrible. Her face was pale and drawn, and there were dark circles under her eyes. “Lauren is on the phone,” she said, “but I’m sure she’ll be off any minute. I know she’ll want to thank you.”
“How is she doing?” I asked.
Polly shrugged and glanced at Daniel before answering. “She’s doing all right, I guess,” she said, “as well as can be expected. With Lauren you never really know.”
Daniel opened his mouth as if he was about to say something, but Aunt Winnie spoke first.
“And how about you, dear?” she asked kindly. “How are you doing?”
Polly’s lower lip twitched and she took a steadying breath before answering. Daniel watched her intently.
“I’m okay,” she said, giving us a humorless smile. “I’m not going to pretend that my father and I got along particularly well, or that I was overly fond of him. But … he was my father.”
I wasn’t sure what to make of Polly’s answer. Granted, I had found Gerald Ramsey to be a singularly disagreeable man, but he wasn’t my father. It was another thing altogether for his own daughter to react this coolly to his death. But then again, she was his daughter. Maybe she was more like him than anyone realized. That said, the line “sharper than a serpent’s tooth” still sprang to mind.
Aunt Winnie tilted her head to one side and said quietly, “I think that with all things considered, you’re holding up just fine, dear.”
Something unspoken passed between them and Polly’s eyes welled with unshed tears. The door suddenly swung open, breaking the mood. Mrs. Jenkins entered. Beyond her right shoulder was a bright red hat covered in tiny white flowers that bobbed furiously up and down. Mrs. Jenkins’s announcement was unnecessary. Miss Jackie Tanner had arrived.
She instantly swooped down on Polly. “Oh, you poor, poor child!” she gushed as she enveloped Polly in a tight hug. Polly’s startled face hovered above the mass of white flowers before she deftly removed herself from Jackie’s grip. Jackie appeared not to notice the maneuver.
“What an awful thing for you to go through,” Jackie said in a tone that belied her words. Having a close relative murdered not ten feet from her was probably Jackie’s idea of high drama. “If there is anything I can do to help,” she continued, “just let me know. And don’t you worry. I know that the police will find out who did this terrible, terrible thing. Tell me, dear, have they given you any idea as to which one of us they think killed your father?”
Jackie’s words hit like a bucket of cold water. There was a startled pause, a lot of rapid blinking, and, for some reason, slightly better posture. Only Jackie seemed unaffected. She gazed expectantly at Polly, calmly waiting for a response.
Polly gaped at Jackie before glancing at the rest of us for help. None came, and I realized that while we all might abhor Jackie’s tactics, we nevertheless were eager to hear what they produced.
However, if Polly knew anything, she wasn’t telling. She merely shook her head and said, “I don’t know any more than you do. Detective Stewart has asked Lauren and me to stay in town for a few more days, but other than that, he hasn’t told me anything.”
“I heard that there’s no chance it was a mistake,” said Jackie.
“What do you mean?” asked Daniel, his voice hard-edged.
Jackie turned to him, her eyes big with excitement. “Well, from what I understand, the police found reflective tape on Gerald. They think the killer must have put it on him sometime during the evening, to be sure the bullet found its mark.”
Polly let out a little gasp. This had gone too far for me. “Ms. Tanner!” I said firmly. At the same moment Aunt Winnie snapped, “Jackie! Really!”
I continued, “I don’t think this is an appropriate conversation to be having right now.”
Jackie’s brow furrowed underneath the shadowy brim of her hat. “Why?” she asked, with the simplicity of a small child.
My mind went blank. She was too unbelievable for words. I tried without success to explain why I thought a conversation in front of Polly about the details of her father’s murder was in bad taste. Thankfully, my incoherent sputtering was interrupted by the arrival of Lauren.
She looked amazing. She floated rather than walked into the room. Her long blond hair hung in a simple ponytail, giving her a youthful and somehow innocent appearance. Her skin glowed and her eyes appeared almost luminous. My first thought was that death became her—the death of her husband, that is. I snuck a peek at Daniel to gauge his reaction. His blue eyes watched her with what seemed a mix of open admiration and bemusement.
She glided toward our little group. She was holding a dog in her arms, clearly the inspiration for the ceramic collection. The dog eyed us with such an expression of enthusiastic desire that I found myself almost missing Lady Catherine’s icy disdain.
“I am so sorry to keep you waiting,” Lauren said. “Mrs. Jenkins tells me that you brought us some food,” she continued, addressing Aunt Winnie. “Thank you. That was very thoughtful of you.”
“It’s the least we can do,” Aunt Winnie replied.
Lauren smiled again but said nothing. Her message was clear. Thank you for the food, now please leave. I didn’t fault her. Only a ghoul would expect a wife to entertain guests mere hours after her husband had been murdered.
“What a lovely room you have here,” said Jackie, settling herself comfortably into one of the chairs. “You have such nice things,” she wistfully continued, delicately touching one of the hideous ceramic pugs.
Even Daniel’s composure was shaken at this audacious display. For the first time since I’d met him, he was speechless. It was Polly who spoke. “Thank you, Miss Tanner. Why don’t I have Mrs. Jenkins bring in some tea?”
“That’s very kind of you, Polly,” said Aunt Winnie, “but Elizabeth and I should go—”
“Oh, please stay,” Polly implored Aunt Winnie and me. “I insist.” I don’t think she wanted to deal with Jackie alone. I can’t say that I blamed her.
“Well, just for a little while,” replied Aunt Winnie. We both sat down.
“Thank you,” said Polly, with a grateful expression. “I’ll go and tell Mrs. Jenkins. I’ll only be a minute.”
From Lauren’s arms, the dog now gave an impatient bark. “Does my sweetums want down?” she crooned, lowering the dog to the floor. “Now play nice with our guests, Denny.” She smiled at us and added apologetically, “He gets a bit wound up with strangers.”
Super. I was stuck in a room with a hyper dog by the name of Denny, no less. More and more I felt as if this whole weekend was a terrible joke in awful taste and someone from Candid Camera was minutes away from popping out and admitting to the prank. But no one emerged from a hidden doorway to call an end to the gag. Instead, it got worse. Mere seconds after leaving Lauren’s arms, Denny hurled his body at my leg. With a low grunt of satisfaction, he wrapped one fat paw around my calf and then the other. Seconds later, he latched on and was furiously humping away, his pink tongue lolling out the side of his mouth and his eyes rolling back into his furry little head. Before I was the recipient of some premature pugalation, I jerked my leg, sending him flying flat on his back. Apparently Denny liked the rough stuff, because seconds later we were eye to eye, literally. He planted himself on my lap, his squashed face not two inches from mine, panting heavily. He appeared in no hurry to move.