Murder Most Persuasive (16 page)

“Nana?” said Kit. “Why would you call her? Didn’t you just see her at Uncle Marty’s funeral?” When Ann didn’t answer right away, she peered closely at her. “Oh, I see,” she said. “You want to call her to find out about Michael.”

“But Ann,” I said, “Nana wouldn’t know anything. She wasn’t even at the Fourth of July party.”

“No, but she helped set it up,” Ann said. “And even if she wasn’t there, she always seemed to know everything that was happening. Sometimes before it happened.” With a knowing smile, she added, “She certainly busted us on numerous occasions.”

“That she did,” I agreed. “Remember the time we brought those guys back to the pool?”

Ann laughed at the memory. “That’s right! I’d almost forgotten. I don’t know what we were thinking.”

I shook my head. “When she called down to us, asking what all the noise was, you told them to duck under the water so she wouldn’t see them.”

“Okay, so I wasn’t thinking too clearly. I forgot she was calling down to us from the
upstairs
window. Not my finest moment, I grant you.”

Beside me, Kit shifted in her seat, clearly annoyed. I felt a pang of guilt. Regardless of how irritating she could be at times, it wasn’t very nice of me to talk about past events where she hadn’t been included. I shot Ann a quelling look. She caught my meaning and quickly changed the subject.

“Anyway, all I’m saying,” said Ann, “is that maybe Nana saw something that we missed. In any case, she should talk to the police.”

Kit leaned across the table and said in a conspiratorial tone, “Or maybe she should talk to
us
. You know how older women can be—somewhat suspicious and uncomfortable around policemen. If we talk to her first, it could put her mind at ease.”

“Whoa! Wait one second!” I said, making a time-out sign with my hands. Turning to Kit, I said, “What’s with the ‘us’ business all of a sudden? Need I remind you that up until today you spent a fair amount of time and energy, not to mention oxygen, making it very clear that you thought my involvement in police business was, and I’m quoting here, ‘disgraceful’?”

Kit bristled. “I—” she began, but I cut her off.

“And you,” I said, pointing an accusatory finger at Ann, “you just promised Joe not one hour ago that you wouldn’t meddle in this investigation anymore! Or have you already forgotten that?” While I wanted to do everything I could to help Ann, I also didn’t like this feeling that I’d just been cast as the den mother for the Bobbsey Twins.

“No, I haven’t forgotten,” Ann replied defensively. “And I don’t believe that I suggested anything akin to meddling. I merely said that Nana should talk to the police.” She paused, then added, “I think I’ll drive out to see her tomorrow. I can talk to her about it then. In any case, it’s been awhile since I’ve been out to see her. I owe her a visit.”

“Uh-huh. Are you forgetting that you just saw her at the funeral?” I responded.

It was Kit who waved this argument away with a brisk flip of her wrist. “Oh, please,” she said dismissively. “You know funerals are just like weddings. You never really have time to have a proper chat with anybody.”

“Exactly,” said Ann with a knowing smile. “That’s all it is, a social visit. I’ll see her and then put her in touch with Joe.”

Joe. Now I understood Ann’s desire to stay involved in this case. She wanted every reason possible to stay in touch with Joe. That I got; that I would cheerfully help her with. But I wasn’t going to let her endanger herself.

“We’ll all go with you, Ann,” said Kit. “You need your family around you at a time like this.”

I stared at Kit in astonishment. She sat calmly, a satisfied smile playing on her lips. As I said, I got Ann’s desire to get involved. It was Kit’s sudden desire for involvement that I didn’t get. At first. Then it hit me: she wanted to show me up. Even though she had just blasted me for “playing sleuth,” she was quite prepared to play the same game if she thought that it would win her points with Ann. An even stronger motivation was her desire to beat me. It was just like the summer after my first year of college. Friends of mine were having a keg party. Kit, of course, was appalled. “Underage drinking is not only stupid but it’s illegal!” she’d scoffed. Until, that is, she got invited. Suddenly it wasn’t such a moral dilemma after all. She went happily and then spent the better part of the night puking in the bushes after doing a keg stand.

I didn’t know what she was planning this time, but I didn’t want to get stuck holding her hair again while she emptied the contents of her stomach.

*   *   *

After lunch, Kit headed back to her house full of promises to see us again tomorrow for our drive out to St. Michaels. Ann discussed the details with Kit, as I was so disgusted with her that I didn’t trust myself to get out a civil word.

A little before eight that night, Ann and I headed to Miles and Laura’s house. They, too, lived in Georgetown, only a few quaint cobblestone streets over from Uncle Marty’s house. It was starting to get dark earlier now, and dusk had settled by the time we got there; the last of the sun’s fading rays brushed the clouds with a faint blush of indigo and purple. A soft maze of ivy crisscrossed the house’s classic three-story Georgian façade, the once green leaves now a warm red. Shallow steps led to a white paneled door above which a fanlight glowed with hospitable brightness. Laura answered our knock, swinging open the door with a welcoming smile. She was wearing a black A-line dress with cream piping and a simple strand of pearls. “Hello, dears,” she said, waving us inside. “Miles got hung up with some client at the office, but he should be here soon. Come on in.”

Ann and I stepped into the large foyer lit by an antique crystal chandelier. We followed Laura across the thick jewel-toned Oriental rug into the living room. Here Laura’s love of flowers was on full display, from the freshly cut tulips, roses, and lilies spilling out of thick vases to the brightly colored botanical patterns on the furniture. I took a seat on a yellow club chair emblazoned with red cabbage roses, while Ann and Laura sat on the couch, which was red with yellow roses.

“What can I get you to drink?” asked Laura, indicating the drink tray on the low mahogany coffee table in front of the couch.

“I’ll have a glass of Merlot, please,” said Ann, after studying her options.

“I’ll have the same,” I added.

Laura poured the wine, plus a glass for herself, then settled back on the couch. Turning to Ann, she said, “So, kiddo, how are you holding up?”

Ann shrugged before answering. “I’m not sure, actually. I feel a little like my whole world just got turned on its head over the past few days. Losing Dad was bad enough, but then add in Bonnie’s bizarre behavior and the discovery about Michael and the
memories
of Michael and then to have the police think that I … I mean, it was bad enough having to see”—Ann paused, taking a sip of wine—“Joe again after all these years, but under these circumstances, it’s all the worse somehow. My defenses are already down.”

Laura nodded in understanding. “I know, darling. I can only imagine how difficult this has been for you. No one believes for one minute that you had anything to do with his murder. The whole thing is just ridiculous. Miles is already working on it. And I can sympathize with your feelings at seeing Joe again.” She paused and toyed with the long stem of the wineglass, apparently trying to choose her next words carefully. “I think one reason this is so hard is that you’ve devoted yourself to the family—perhaps more so than is healthy. You’ve made this family your universe. You need to be a little more … well,
selfish
for a change. Go out more. See more of the world. Meet more
people
.” It was clear that by people, Laura meant men. Ann looked down at her lap. “By expanding your horizons,” Laura continued, “these kinds of setbacks won’t prey on you as much. You’ll be able to keep them in perspective.”

Ann shook her head. “Laura, I know you mean well, and I know you
meant
well before, but … don’t get me wrong, I do love you, but…” Ann’s voice dropped. “But I honestly think I would have been happier if I’d stayed with Joe.”

Laura directed a melancholy smile at Ann before shaking her head as if to negate this thought. “Ann, you were young and about to begin a new life as a student abroad studying Shakespeare. Do you really think that was the best time to become engaged?”

“‘The time is out of joint,’” Ann muttered. “‘O cursed spite.’”

“Come on now,” Laura said with an indulgent chuckle. “Look at you now. You have a wonderful job, doing exactly what you one day hoped you’d be doing. You’re working at the Folger! Do you really think that would have happened if you’d settled down in St. Michaels as the wife of a policeman? Don’t get me wrong: Joe is a very decent sort of man, but I don’t think he is in your league.”

I kept my mouth—for once—firmly shut. I liked Laura. She had a good heart and she meant well, but she was a dreadful snob at times. Brought up in a wealthy family that not only extolled the virtues of higher education but also socialized primarily with other wealthy intellects, Laura had grown up equating wealth with refinement and intellectual curiosity. As such, she viewed (incorrectly) Joe’s humble beginnings and subsequent career choice as evidence of an inelegant mind.

“And speaking of work, are you still seeing Ben Wicks?” Laura asked Ann, referring to the coworker she’d gone out with a few times. Ben Wicks was a sweet, shy guy who was something of an expert on Shakespeare’s sonnets. Ann had taken him under her wing when he started at the Folger and I think he’d been grateful for her friendship. However, while they had a mutual passion for Shakespeare, it hadn’t translated into one for each other.

Ann shook her head. “No, I think we’re better as friends. Besides, he started seeing this grad student, Devon, who worked for him this summer. Ben thought he’d discovered a lost sonnet of Shakespeare’s. He and Devon got very close while they researched it.”

I already knew this story and so giggled and said, “They fell in love over poetry!” Ann laughed.

“That doesn’t mean it’s necessarily over,” said Laura.

“Devon’s a guy,” Ann added drily.

“Oh, well in that case, then it probably
is
over,” Laura amended with a smile. “I’m sorry. Is there anybody else you’re interested in?”

“Not really,” said Ann. “Most of the guys I know are taken. They’re either happily married or happily divorced and now dating pubescent young things, or they’re gay. I hate to say it, but there are times when I wonder if there’s any truth behind that stupid statistic.” She looked at me for confirmation. “You know the one that says if you haven’t married by age forty—”

“You’re more likely to die in a terrorist attack than walk down the aisle,” I finished. “Yes, I know it.”

Laura burst out laughing. “What utter nonsense! First of all, Ann, you are all of thirty, and second of all, look at me. I didn’t marry Miles until I was well past my fortieth birthday. And it wasn’t some case of two old fogies coming together out of mutual loneliness: It was—and is—true love.”

Ann sat seemingly lost in thought, staring at her glass of wine. Laura turned to me. Her brow was furrowed in concern at Ann’s mood. However, she switched topics. “Ann tells me that you are seeing someone now, Elizabeth,” she said.

I smiled. “Yes. His name is Peter. Like you, I never thought I’d meet a nice guy. Most of my ex-boyfriends seemed to wander off on me; either with other women or personal items of mine.”

“I’ve been there,” Laura said sympathetically. “I’d gotten so used to that particular type of behavior that I actually began to anticipate it. I even thought Miles was about to break up with me.”

Ann looked up, astounded. “Miles? You thought Miles was going to break up with you? He’s adored you from the day he met you! When was this?”

“Oh, a long time ago, back when we were dating. But actually, now that I think of it, it was right before we got engaged—which shows you how clueless I was. I remember I was out of town one weekend visiting my mother and when I came home there he was at the airport with a huge bouquet of roses and a ring.” Laura smiled softly at the memory. “He was actually getting on a plane himself in the next hour, but he said he didn’t want to waste one more minute not engaged to me.” Almost as an aside, she said, “I remember I was so relieved that I burst into tears right there in the middle of Gate Twenty-four.”

“Why were you relieved?” I asked.

Laura appeared embarrassed. “Well, I didn’t talk to him at all while I was away that weekend, and I guess I got worried that he’d gotten tired of me. But we’ll have been together nine years in July,” she said happily. “And I’m as happy today as I was then. Miles is one of a kind.”

As if on cue, the front door opened and Miles strolled in. Shrugging out of his blue blazer and loosening his green paisley tie, Miles apologized for his lateness, explaining that he’d had to meet with a difficult client. Apparently the woman had recently been to France, where she visited Versailles. Enchanted with Marie Antoinette’s Petit Trianon and gardens, she wanted to create something similar. “A friggin’ hamlet in a tiny town house backyard is what she wants me to create,” Miles fumed. “A place where, like the young queen, she can, and I’m quoting here, ‘escape her burdens.’ Burdens! This from a woman who spends her day spoiling her silly dogs! Ten to one, I’m going to want to behead
her
after another month of this,” he predicted.

Laura poured him a generous glass of wine and rose from her seat. She greeted him first with a kiss then the wine.

Smiling, Miles returned the kiss and said, “Well, thank you! I’ll have to be late for dinner more often! What was that for?”

“Oh, just for being you,” she said. “I was just telling Ann and Elizabeth about how you proposed to me at the airport.”

“One of the best days of my life,” he said with a nod. Miles sat down in the chair next to mine. “And now look at us—an old married couple.”

Laura grimaced. “Speak for yourself, old man.”

*   *   *

Two hours later, we were sitting in the dining room enjoying Laura’s homemade peach kutchen after having a wonderful dinner of rack of lamb, peas, and orzo. The conversation had drifted to the discovery of Michael’s body.