A Premonition of Murder by Mary Kennedy Page B

upstairs bedrooms are supposed to have fireplaces along with private balconies and sitting rooms. I racked my brain but couldn’tthink of an excuse to zip up there. I wondered if any part of the mansion was considered a crime scene, but no yellow plastic tape was visible in the front hall. The CSIs must have done their work and left.
    I was beginning to wish I hadn’t acted so impulsively. I’d thought visiting Lucy on the fly was the way to go, but maybe I should have taken some time and come up with a more detailed action plan. Noah always harps on the fact that trained investigators always know exactly what they want to accomplish
before
they meet with a suspect or take a statement. They have an agenda, and they leave nothing to chance. What did I hope to accomplish here today? I’d already used up the forgotten-sunglasses card, and it was unlikely I’d get back in here for another visit. I’d better make this visit count.
    I found myself envying Angus Morton, the young grad student, living in the lap of luxury. Of course, maybe his life at the mansion wasn’t as luxurious as I imagined? Maybe he spent his days tucked away in some dusty attic, cataloging antiques? Even so, it would be a small price to pay to enjoy your free time in such luxury. We passed a beautiful yellow-and-purple orchid plant in an Oriental porcelain vase and made our way into the kitchen. I started to reach out and touch it. Was it real? Of course it was real! Ali rapped me sharply on the knuckles and shot me a disapproving look.
    â€œDon’t touch it; they’re very fragile. It’s a lady’s slipper,” Ali whispered.
    â€œIt’s an orchid, right?” I kept my voice low. Lucy turned her head slightly as if she was trying to follow the conversation.
    â€œYes, but a very rare one,” she said admiringly. “A single cutting can go for five grand.”
    I raised my eyebrows. Ali always says I have the soul of an accountant, and maybe I really am too focused on thebottom line. But five thousands dollars for a plant? I shook my head and followed Lucy down the hall, marveling at the habits of the very rich.
    To my delight, I saw a young woman and two young men sitting at the kitchen table as Lucy ushered us inside.
Bingo!
I’d lucked out. The young woman with the porcelain skin and strawberry blond hair must have been the mysterious Sophie Stanton. She looked up at me over the rim of her cup, her gaze curious and intent. Her head was tilted to one side, and she had an air of utter confidence. Her chin was lifted upward slightly. She was a beauty with finely chiseled features and that wonderful mane of reddish-blond hair. Hadn’t someone mentioned a strawberry blonde lately? Who was it?
    I didn’t have time to ponder the question because Lucy motioned for us to take a seat, and quickly introduced us to our tablemates. It was just as I suspected. The woman
was
Sophie Stanton, who nodded coolly as she gave me a quick once-over. The sullen-looking young man in a vintage rock T-shirt sitting next to her was Nicky Dargos, Lucy’s son, and Angus Morton, the graduate student, was at the head of the table.
    All the people I wanted to see, gathered in one place. This had to be a good omen. I locked eyes with Ali for a moment, and she grinned. I bet we both were thinking the same thing. This was like something out of an Agatha Christie novel!
    â€œMake yourselves comfortable,” Lucy said, turning her back to us, bustling around the stove. “I’m doing bacon and eggs for Nicky and pancakes for Angus.”
    â€œYou know, I’m just having fruit and yogurt,” Sophie piped up. Her voice was low and cultured, without a trace of an accent. She didn’t sound European, but more likesomeone who had lived in the states for years. I was sure I detected a touch of New England in her patrician tone. Boston? Bar Harbor, perhaps? It was almost as though she had done her best to