“Who?” said Aunt Winnie.
“Daniel?” said Peter.
My hand itched to launch my cup at his head, but I restrained myself.
“Joan Anderson,” I said, ignoring Peter.
“Really?” said Aunt Winnie. “What was she doing?”
“She said she’d been outside in the garden having a cigarette.”
“Well, that doesn’t sound too strange,” Peter said.
“She was sneaking around in the dark with a flashlight,” I added.
“Oh. Well, yes, that is a little strange,” he amended. “What do you think she was really doing?”
“I don’t know. She was upset about something. There’s more to it than she’s telling.”
“So you think she was lying about having a cigarette?” asked Aunt Winnie.
“I do,” I said. “I don’t know why, but I think there’s something she’s not telling us, or the police. Remember, she and Polly were outside together before the murder. They said they were looking at the snow, but as Detective Stewart pointed out, women generally don’t go outside in freezing weather wearing evening gowns.”
Aunt Winnie looked thoughtful. “I’ll see what I can find out from her today.”
“I’ll help,” I said.
“No,” she said firmly. “I need you to help Peter with the shopping. And speaking of which, you had better get ready, Elizabeth. Everything will be picked over unless you hurry.”
I looked down at my jeans and sweatshirt. “But I am ready,” I said.
Aunt Winnie cast a disparaging glance at my outfit. “You’re going into town, dear, not fishing. Trust me, you two are going to be scrutinized within an inch of your lives. We already have one black mark against us in that Gerald was murdered here. Let’s not add ‘slovenly appearance’ to our list of sins.” Her tone was light, but she wasn’t kidding about the message.
I felt my face flush and was about to tell her that I couldn’t care less what the locals thought of my appearance, when I caught sight of Peter’s face. Without another word, I turned and stormed out of the kitchen. I was so furious that I stalked by Daniel on the landing without so much as a hello. I thought I heard him call to me, but I kept walking. In my room, I angrily tore off my jeans and sweatshirt. But looking down at the ratty heap of clothes on the floor, I realized that Aunt Winnie was right. Peter and I would be the objects of study and gossip. How we looked, what we said, and what we did would be discussed. I owed it to Aunt Winnie to make as good an impression as possible. If the tide of public opinion turned against her, her business would assuredly fail.
After a quick shower, I pulled on cream-colored corduroy pants, a white oxford shirt, and a turquoise V-neck sweater—my one remaining decent outfit. If I was going to stay a few more days, I would either have to buy more clothes or do laundry. Buying more clothes won. I studied my reflection in the mirror and decided to pull my hair back into a loose French twist. I found my makeup bag and carefully applied powder, blush, eyeliner, mascara, and tinted lip gloss. Upon closer inspection, I decided to add a little concealer under my eyes and made a mental note to get tea bags and a cucumber at the store. While I assured myself that I was making this extra effort for Aunt Winnie’s sake, truth be told, I was remembering Peter’s smirk and his bland assumption last night that Daniel was only using me as a cover.
Surveying the result, I had to admit that I looked nice. No amount of makeup was going to turn me into a striking beauty, but at least I could hold my head up in town and, just as important, with Peter.
There was a knock at the door and Aunt Winnie stuck in her head. Turning her way, I struck a pose. “There. Will I disgrace you?”
She laughed. “You look very pretty. Thank you. I gave Peter the list and the money. It should cover everything.”
“Well, I’ll chip in some,” I said.
“Don’t be silly. Now get going. I think Peter is already downstairs.” I headed down the stairs. Daniel, still in the hall, gave a low whistle when he saw me and I felt my face grow warm.
“Hello, Daniel,” I said.
“Hello, yourself.” He smiled and walked toward me with a definite glint in his eye just as Peter rounded the corner.
“Elizabeth!” Peter called out, exasperated. “Are you ready yet? We need to get going!” He stopped short when he saw Daniel. “Oh,” he said briskly. “Morning, Daniel. I didn’t see you.” He turned back to me, suddenly all smiles. “We really should get going, Elizabeth.” His voice sounded peculiar, and with a jolt I realized he was trying to sound friendly.
“I am ready,” I said. “Let me just get my coat.”
“I’ve already got it.” Peter thrust it toward me. I started to take it from him when he suddenly changed his mind and tried to help me into it. A small wrestling match ensued as we both tried to put my coat on me.
“You two have a big day planned?” Daniel asked in an amused voice.
I opened my mouth to respond but Peter answered instead. “Oh, nothing too special. Just the usual.”
Before I could ask Peter what was “usual” about us going shopping, he pressed his hand firmly against the small of my back and propelled me toward the door. Feeling like I had been dropped in medias res into a play where I didn’t know my lines, let alone what the other actors were doing, I reluctantly allowed myself to be led away.
“See you later, Daniel,” I said.
“I’ll be here,” he answered.
“Good bye, Daniel,” Peter called over his shoulder. I glanced back. Daniel watched our exit, a puzzled expression on his face.
Outside, I turned to Peter and said, “Just what the hell was that all about?”
“Shut up,” he said through a fake smile. “He’s still watching us.”
“Who is?” I asked, bewildered.
“Daniel, of course.”
At the side of his black Jeep, he opened the door and pushed me in. I waited until he had climbed into the driver’s seat before I continued. “Why are we putting on a show for Daniel?”
“I want to throw him off his guard a little” was Peter’s cryptic reply. My additional questions were met with similar nonresponses. After a few minutes, I gave up and stared out the window in frustrated silence. Long stretches of flat sand dotted with empty lifeguard chairs gave way to sandy dunes and faded gray cottages. A sign in front of a washed-out red general store promised to see us in the summer.
“I thought we would go to the grocery first,” Peter said, breaking the silence as he maneuvered the car into town.
“That’s fine with me. I assume you have the list?”
“Got it right here.” He patted the pocket of his coat. He deftly parked in a spot on Main Street and we got out. The temperature had dropped during the night and the wind had picked up. I pulled my coat tightly around me. “Which way?”
“Follow me,” he said, making his way quickly down the street. In spite of the blustery weather, the streets were alive with activity. Aunt Winnie had been right: Peter and I were not going unnoticed. While no one stopped and outwardly gawked, a fair number of heads turned our way. I was surprised that we had been spotted so easily until I remembered that this was a small town and Peter was probably already known by most of the inhabitants. We crunched down the snow-covered, tree-lined street, passing several clapboard buildings in various shades of white and pale yellow. Most were still decked out in their Christmas decorations. Finally, we came to a freshly painted white building sporting a wooden sign in the window that simply read PRITCHARD’S. It was a small, well-stocked grocery store. Several of the customers noted our entrance, and not for the first time that morning I was glad that I had followed Aunt Winnie’s advice.
As Peter and I bagged shiny red apples that looked as if they had been buffed within an inch of their lives, a heavyset woman with a pinched mouth and small, shrewd eyes spotted Peter. She bore down on him with predatory intent.
“Why, Peter!” Her tone was overly familiar. “I thought that was you! Happy New Year!”