My legs were shaky from continually slamming on an imaginary brake and I walked unsteadily to the front door. Stumbling into the foyer, I met Peter emerging from the back office.
“Hello,” he said. “How was your visit?”
“Elizabeth made a new friend,” said Aunt Winnie. “His name is Denny.”
“You know,” I said pleasantly, “I’m not above striking defenseless old women.”
“Really?” Aunt Winnie countered with a wink. “Let me know if you find one.”
Peter, who had been listening to us with an increasingly puzzled expression, now interrupted. “Right,” he said. “Can I interest either of you in a cocktail? The Andersons have gone into town for dinner and Daniel is dining with Mrs. Ramsey. We are, for the first time this weekend, alone. I vote we put our heads together and see what we can come up with about Gerald’s murder. The sooner the murderer is found, the better for all of us.”
“Agreed,” said Aunt Winnie. “Would you mind, though, if I invite Randy? I haven’t had much chance to see him lately, and I trust him.”
“Not at all,” said Peter. “I’ll get started on the drinks.”
“Thanks. I’ll just be a moment,” said Aunt Winnie, as she went into the office. “Oh, Peter, make mine a gin and tonic. Strong.”
“And for you?” Peter said to me.
“The same, please. I’ll go see if I can rummage up some cheese and crackers.”
In the kitchen I cut up cheese and salami. Placing them on a tray, I added some crackers and a small bowl of olives. I was returning with the tray when Aunt Winnie came out of the office. “Randy is on his way,” she said. “I invited him to stay for dinner, too.”
“You really like him, don’t you?” I said.
“I think that I do. He’s a very nice man.” With a smile, she quoted, “ ‘He is also handsome, which a man ought likewise to be, if he possibly can.’ ”
I laughed and quoted back, “ ‘Well, I give you leave to like him. You have liked many a stupider person.’ ”
In the reading room, I settled into my chair, taking in the calming atmosphere of the room. For the first time today, I felt relaxed—almost at home. I smiled, thinking how my attachment to Longbourn seemed to increase daily. I thought about my apartment back in Virginia with its temperamental heating/cooling system and utter absence of architectural style. Now that Bridget was engaged, I would have to start thinking about getting a new roommate next year. Idly, I wondered about moving to the Cape instead. Maybe I could find a job here and help Aunt Winnie with the inn.
Peter entered with the drinks and I took mine gratefully. After everyone had settled into their chairs, Peter asked, “So, did you learn anything interesting at the Ramseys’? I’m assuming that’s why the two of you went there. Although I admit that showing up laden with baskets of homemade food was a nice touch.”
“Don’t look at me,” I said, raising my hands. “I was just following orders.”
Aunt Winnie gave Peter a level look over the rim of her crystal glass. “Aren’t you a little young to be so cynical?”
“I’m not cynical. I just know you. You’re not going to deny it, are you?”
“Of course not. But I’m still reserving the right to call you cynical.”
“Duly noted,” Peter said with a wave of his hand. “Did you learn anything?”
“Well, no one was suddenly overcome with remorse and confessed, if that’s what you mean,” I said. Outside the sun had long ago set and long shadows now spread into the room. I got up and started a fire in the fireplace.
“Don’t be such a smart-ass,” said Aunt Winnie. “We learned about Jamie.”
“Who’s Jamie?” Peter asked, as he helped himself to a cracker and a piece of cheese from the tray.
“He’s Lauren’s son from a previous marriage,” said Aunt Winnie. “Apparently, he has special needs and lives in some sort of home in South Carolina.”
“What does that prove?” asked Peter.
“It doesn’t necessarily prove anything,” she said. “I just think it’s interesting, that’s all. Don’t you think it’s strange that the boy isn’t living with his mother? Even if he needs to be in some sort of supervised community, you’d think she’d live closer.”
“You think that Gerald didn’t want anything to do with Jamie and had him shipped away?” I gave the burning logs a thoughtful shove with the poker.
“Would you really be surprised if that were the case?”
“Oh, I’m not arguing with you,” I said. “It sounds exactly like something Gerald would do. But then again, Lauren doesn’t strike me as the most maternal of women. She may have preferred having her son live far away.”
Aunt Winnie nodded.
“Oh! I almost forgot. Polly got a passport!” I said, quickly explaining my find.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” asked Aunt Winnie.
“Your driving must have scared the memory out of me,” I replied, although I knew that wasn’t the reason. Daniel’s kiss was the reason. I hoped I wasn’t blushing.
The doorbell chimed. “That’s Randy,” said Aunt Winnie, jumping up.
“And who’s Denny?” Peter called after her.
Aunt Winnie let out a snort of laughter as she went to answer the door, leaving me to explain my attractiveness to a spoiled pug.
“Don’t be too hard on the dog,” Peter said, laughing when I had finished. “Maybe he’s just cuckoo for Cocoa—”
I swung the poker menacingly at him. “If you finish that sentence, you will regret it! Why your parents ever encouraged you to talk, I’ll never understand.”
“Touchy, touchy,” Peter muttered, as Aunt Winnie returned to the room with Randy. He was wearing a rumpled brown cashmere sweater and tan slacks. Behind his glasses, his magnified brown eyes resembled fish swimming in a tank. He smiled at Peter and me, and said, “I understand from Winifred that the three of you are playing amateur sleuth. Have you discovered the culprit?”
“Don’t answer him,” instructed Aunt Winnie. “He’s making fun of us.”
Randy laughed. “I am not.”
“You just called me Miss Marple in the foyer.”
“I meant it as a compliment.”
“Liar. And anyway, I’d prefer to be compared to Amelia Peabody.”
Randy lowered the top half of his body into a mock bow. “Whatever you say, Amelia.”
Aunt Winnie was a die-hard fan of Elizabeth Peters’s Egyptian mysteries featuring the indomitable sleuth Amelia Peabody. So was I, for that matter. We tended to look with horror on those who did not share our admiration.
“Well, regardless of who we fancy ourselves to be,” said Peter, “I think we have to be serious about the fact that one of the guests here murdered Gerald Ramsey. And, if the police are right, this was no spur-of-the-moment crime of passion. It was a well-thought-out and deliberate murder.”
“I agree,” said Randy, taking a seat next to Aunt Winnie on the couch. “And until the police find the killer, I fear that there may be more trouble.” He glanced meaningfully at Peter and me.
I knew he was alluding to Aunt Winnie. He must have also caught wind of Detective Stewart’s suspicions.
“If you are referring to the police’s ideas about me,” said Aunt Winnie, pushing her bright red curls back in an angry gesture, “I do wish you would just say so. I dislike being talked of as if I’m some doddering old fool.”
“Nobody said you were a fool!” I said.
“Or doddering!” Peter chimed in.
“They didn’t have to.” Pointing at me, she continued. “You’ve been staring at me all day like I was an egg about to crack. And you,” she said, addressing Peter, “you’ve been treating me with kid gloves and making furtive phone calls when you think I’m not around!”
Peter squirmed in his chair but did not deny the charge. I wondered whom he had been calling.
Aunt Winnie continued. “I am quite aware that Detective Stewart thinks that Gerald’s determination to buy me out of this inn may have been why he died.” She added, “The man’s a dammed idiot. Unfortunately, he knows about what happened with Marion.”