“Denny! No!” Lauren yelped, but he ignored her and ran across the room. Turning to me, Lauren said, “Elizabeth? Would you mind terribly getting Denny? Thanks.”
She turned back to the woman, leaving me no option other than to retrieve the wayward Denny. I followed him down the hall toward the back of the house, muttering obscenities under my breath. As I rounded the corner, I walked straight into Peter. His face was contorted with anger. Putting his arm out, he tried to turn me around. I spun out of his grip. “What are you doing?” I asked. “I have to get Denny.”
“No, you don’t,” Peter said briskly. “Turn around.”
“Peter! Stop this. What’s the matter with you?”
“Nothing,” he bit out through clenched teeth. “I don’t want you to go in there.”
I glanced at him in surprise. Why was he so angry? “Peter! This is ridiculous. Let me go.”
Abruptly releasing me, he said, “Fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Pushing past him, I said, “Warn me about what? You know, sometimes you can be so …” But the rest of my words died on my lips. In the sunroom stood Daniel and Polly. Kissing.
I backed out slowly so as not to be heard, but in truth they were so wrapped up in each other that I probably could have led a marching band in there without either of them noticing. The implications of what I’d seen made my head spin. Daniel and Polly? Not Daniel and Lauren. Not Daniel and me. How long had they been together? When had Polly morphed into a little Lolita, or had she been that way all along? And what did it mean?
As I backed into the hall, I bumped into Peter. His arms came up around me. “I’m sorry, Elizabeth,” he said. “Are you okay?”
I was only half listening. I twisted away from his grasp. I had to go somewhere quiet and think. In addition to feeling punched in the stomach, there were more sinister implications I needed to sort out. Peter said something, but I didn’t hear him. I walked back to the sitting room where only a few days before I’d had tea with Jackie. It was during that visit that Jackie had unaccountably become upset—but about what? Daniel and Polly had been having what I had thought was a mundane conversation about smoking. But given what I had just seen, maybe nothing between them was mundane. Could Jackie have realized that as well? Could that have been what had upset her?
I was so caught up in the memory of that day that as I entered the room, I imagined I was seeing Jackie again, but it was only Linnet. She was sitting in the very same chair that Jackie had sat in. Her head was tilted to one side and she wore an expression of worry on her face. I closed my eyes, trying to remember every word that had preceded Jackie’s flustered behavior and her statement that something was wrong. What were they? If only she had told someone what had bothered her, she might still be alive. I opened my eyes and looked at Linnet. She stared back at me, her expression anxious. Had she lied before about knowing anything? Could Jackie, in fact, have hinted at what she had been thinking?
I walked toward her and she stood up. “Mrs. Westin?” I said. It was evident that Jackie’s death had taken a terrible toll on her. Her clothes, usually elegant and stylish, hung shapelessly from her frame. She was still wearing her oversize tinted glasses and her makeup seemed heavier than usual. I suspected her vanity was trying to overcompensate for her haggard appearance.
“Hello, Elizabeth. How are you?” She sounded tired.
“I’m fine, but if you don’t mind my saying so, you don’t look so good. Can I get you anything?”
“No, I’m all right.” Her words came out haltingly, as if she was having trouble speaking. “All this death. It’s harder than you realize. And I miss her. We were friends for so long. She could be such a pain sometimes, but now I’m alone, with no one. No one to talk with about the old days. Martin. No one else remembers.” Her voice broke and she swayed toward me. I reached out to steady her.
“Mrs. Westin, why don’t I take you home? I think all this has been too much for you.”
With apparent effort she whispered, “They all think I know something. But I don’t! I don’t! They keep looking at me, talking to me, bringing me drinks I don’t want, just to talk to me.” She stared vacantly at the drink in her hand and muttered thickly, “Tastes awful, too.”
A prickling sensation ran down my spine. I took the drink from her. She didn’t seem to notice. I turned my head to search for Peter. Catching his eye, I frantically waved to him. But it was too late. Beside me, Linnet Westin crumpled to the ground.
CHAPTER 23
Expect the worst and you won’t be disappointed.
—HELEN MACINNES
I STARED DOWN at Linnet’s inert form and screamed. Peter was at my side in an instant, followed by Aunt Winnie and Randy. Peter gently picked up Linnet and laid her on the couch. Randy ran to call 911.
“What the hell happened?” Peter barked at me.
“I don’t know,” I said, staring down at Linnet’s face. Her lips were slack and beads of perspiration covered her face. She murmured indistinctly. Keeping my voice low, I added, “She said people thought she knew what Jackie was going to say. She seemed nervous and said her drink tasted funny. Then she passed out.” Peter stared at me wide-eyed. I nodded at the glass in my hand. “Is that … ?” he began.
“Yes. When the police come, I’ll give it to them. Maybe they can test it.”
Aunt Winnie knelt beside Linnet and grabbed her hand. “Linnet?” she said loudly. “It’s Winnie. You hang on. The paramedics are on their way. Everything is going to be okay. Can you hear me? It’s Winnie.”
Linnet moved her head slightly but did not raise her lids. “Linney?” she said, her voice distant and confused.
Aunt Winnie raised worried eyes to mine. “No. Winnie,” she said, a shade louder. “Just relax. The paramedics are coming. You’re going to be fine.”
Next to me, Peter whispered, “She’s delirious.”
“I know. She sounded that way before she collapsed.”
Lauren pushed through the small crowd gathered around us and stared down at Linnet. “Oh, my God!” she said, her blue eyes wide with horror. “What happened? Did she have a heart attack?”
“It would seem so,” Peter said quickly, lightly stepping on my foot. Annoyance surged through me. Did he really think I was so stupid that I was going to blurt out that I thought she’d been poisoned with the drink I now held in my hand? I debated returning the gesture—albeit a lot harder.
“How awful,” Lauren murmured.
Polly appeared with Daniel in tow. Her lipstick was smudged. I have no idea how Daniel appeared; I couldn’t bring myself to look at him. “We called 911,” Polly said. “They should be here any minute. Is there anything we can do for her?”
“I don’t think so,” said Peter. “We’d best wait for the paramedics.”
“What happened?” asked Daniel. He stood tensely, his left hand balled into a tight fist.
“They think it was a heart attack,” said Lauren. Staring at Linnet, she said, “Poor thing. It’s no wonder, really. The stress of the last few days must have gotten to her. Why, when I saw her this morning, I almost didn’t recognize her.”
“Yes,” said Polly. “I thought she looked ill, too.”
I wondered if either woman really had been fearful for Linnet’s health or if it merely made for a good cover story. The mournful wail of a siren reverberated through the room and I clutched the heavy glass a little tighter.
As they had on New Year’s, two men dressed in white raced into the room with a gurney and quickly checked a recumbent body for signs of life. Thankfully, this time their trip wasn’t for naught. In silence, we watched as Linnet was lifted onto the gurney and rushed to a waiting ambulance. The siren faded, only to be replaced with another, more ominous sound—a low, throaty cough. Detective Stewart was standing in the doorway, his bulky frame taking up most of that space. He was staring directly at me. There was little pleasure reflected in his hazel eyes. I suspected that there’d be even less after I explained to him my theory about what I now held in my hands.