Breakfast was a strained affair. Daniel was nowhere to be found, which was fine with me. As I surreptitiously watched Joan and Henry, I noticed a tension between them. They hardly spoke to each other. Henry stared moodily out the window with worried eyes.
I knew how he felt.
CHAPTER 16
Let me tell you about the very rich. They are different
from you and me.
—F. SCOTT FITZGERALD
A LITTLE BEFORE noon, coming down to meet Aunt Winnie, I found Peter in the foyer sitting in the green brocade chair normally favored by Lady Catherine. His long legs stretched out in front of him, he was munching happily on an enormous sandwich and reading The Maltese Falcon. He waved the book at me. “Thought I might get some ideas on sleuthing.”
“Don’t tell me you see yourself in the role of Sam Spade.”
“Why? You don’t?” He pulled his face into an expression I could only assume was meant to suggest Bogart. It failed miserably.
“You really shouldn’t make that face. Ever. To be honest, I see you more as a Hastings or a Watson. A kind of idiot savant, but without the savant.”
Peter opened his mouth in protest, but Aunt Winnie emerged from her nap then, ending our conversation. She looked much better. She had changed into a bright red wool skirt and a green-and-black cardigan. Black boots with four-inch heels completed the ensemble. There were still faint circles under her eyes, but the spring in her step was back—insofar as there could be a spring given the absurd height of her heels. On the way to Linnet’s house, I was so relieved at Aunt Winnie’s improvement that I yelled only once—well, twice—about her driving.
Linnet’s “cottage” sat high on the dunes and backed to the beach. Designed to look as if it had been gracing the property for centuries, it was in reality only a few years old. A low stone wall ran on either side of the private driveway and along the sloping grounds. The house itself was equal parts white clapboard, black shutters, and sparkling windows. While it was probably in the same price bracket as Gerald’s, this house had a charm and grace that Gerald’s larger and more ostentatious one lacked.
Aunt Winnie rolled the car to a stop in the circular driveway just as Jackie opened the front door. She waved at us enthusiastically, her smile bright beneath yet another hat. This one was soft yellow cloth with a wide brim flopping down around her face. I realized that I had never seen Jackie without a hat and wondered if she’d been ill and on chemotherapy. That might explain the hat and the apparently dire circumstances that brought her to live with Linnet. Of course, it also might just be a part of her persona—like her insatiable thirst for gossip.
Aunt Winnie and I got out of the car and walked to the door.
“Oh! I’m so glad you two could come!” Jackie gushed, stepping aside to let us in. “Linney is so excited to see you.” I was hard-pressed to imagine Linnet Westin excited about anything, least of all a luncheon with two women she barely knew, but I said nothing. After handing over our coats, we followed Jackie down a short stone-floor corridor into the living room, where a faded green-and-gold Oriental rug swallowed up our footsteps. The room resembled a layout from a design magazine. The tall windows were festooned with tan-and-cream-striped curtains that cascaded to the floor and ended in silky puddles. Fresh flowers spilled out of antique lacquered vases. A fire blazed in the great stone fireplace. On a large sofa upholstered in heavy brocade the color of barley sat Linnet Westin. She rose like royalty to greet us.
Just as she had been on New Year’s Eve, she was perfectly coiffed. Her flawless makeup, a tad heavy for my taste, and her rose-colored cashmere sweater and cream wool pants gave her an elegant and deceptively modest appearance. The only change in her façade was that she now wore large and frankly ugly tinted glasses. She smiled in full hostess mode and greeted us politely. “Welcome,” she said with a slight incline of her synthetic silver head. “Please make yourselves comfortable.” Self-consciously, she raised her hand to the glasses and said, “You’ll have to excuse my appearance, but my eyes are light sensitive. I have special prescription contacts, but I can’t seem to find them anywhere.”
In response, Jackie ducked her head. “I’ve searched for them everywhere, Linnet. I just can’t think what happened to them. But I know I didn’t throw them out.”
Linnet pressed her red lips together in a tight smile. “Never mind, dear. I’m sure they’ll turn up.” She gestured to two identical chairs patterned in gold-and-cream silk. “Would you like a drink? Some white wine, perhaps?”
“Yes, thank you,” said Aunt Winnie. “That would be lovely.”
“And you, Elizabeth?” she asked.
“I’ll have the same, please.”
“Fine.” She turned to Jackie. “Jackie?”
“Oh, nothing for me now, Linney,” said Jackie, starting to sit down on the couch.
Linnet’s smile was small and tight. “No, dear. Would you mind getting the drinks, please? I’ll have a glass of wine, too.”
Beneath the folds of her hat, Jackie’s face flushed crimson.
“Why don’t you let me get it?” I asked quickly. “I’d be happy to play bartender.”
“Thank you, Elizabeth, but that’s not necessary,” said Linnet. “Jackie knows where everything is.”
“Yes. Have a seat, Elizabeth,” Jackie said as she stood up. “I’ll only be a minute.” Without another word she left the room. Sensing my disgust, Aunt Winnie shot me a quelling glance. I took a deep breath and reminded myself that we were here to learn what we could from Jackie and Linnet. The dynamics of their relationship was not our concern.
Aunt Winnie said smoothly, “This is a lovely place you have here, Linnet.”
“Thank you.” Linnet sat back down on the sofa. “I like it.”
Turning to me, Linnet said, “So, tell me about yourself, Elizabeth. I never got a chance to really talk to you the other night. Do you live near here?”
I replied that I didn’t and was soon being politely but firmly badgered with every question imaginable as Linnet tried to sketch my character. I could see her snobbish little mind churning as she attempted to discover if I was A Person of Quality or merely the kind of person who has to buy her own silver. When she asked me what my father did, it took all of my restraint not to reply, “Well, Mother thinks he was a sailor.”
Finally, Jackie returned with the drinks, putting an end to my inquisition. “Thank you, dear,” said Linnet, taking her glass from the wooden serving tray. After handing us our wine, Jackie sat down on the sofa next to Linnet.
“I was just saying to Linnet what a gorgeous home this is,” Aunt Winnie said to Jackie.
“Isn’t it?” Jackie gushed. “Some mornings when I wake up and look out my window at the ocean, I think I must be dreaming. Of course, this whole last week has been like a dream—although more of the nightmare variety.”
“Jackie’s sure she’s going to solve the case,” Linnet said, with the faintest hint of condescension.
Aunt Winnie and I looked questioningly at Jackie, but she only shook her head, sending the yellow folds of her hat flapping. “That’s not what I said, Linney, and you know it. All I said was that there was something wrong that night.” She turned to us. “I haven’t put my finger on it yet, but I know it’ll eventually come to me. It’s on the edge of my subconscious—I just have to be patient and let it swim up.”
Linnet took a sip of her wine. “Have the police learned anything more?” she asked.
Aunt Winnie shook her head. “Not that I’m aware of. Although Elizabeth and I haven’t had much contact with them since that night.”