we’ve met before.” Beth said to Victoria Baer across me.
And she went on, charting where their paths had crossed, friends they had in common. In short, establishing her credentials as a part, however remote, of the same social circle. I barely heard the specifics because I was too busy concentrating on what I’d say and how I’d say it when I had the chance. I reviewed the great empty page I had on Emmie Cade and where her old pal could fill in the blanks. I debated how much I could ask, and considered the downside of asking too much.
I thought about what I already knew. They’d met at school, though at what stage in their schooling, at what school, I didn’t know. I had to steer the conversation around to matters educational.
And at that point, I realized Vicky was saying that she was a consultant to nonprofits, and my sister, possibly afraid of showing her business hand and seating plan by responding with her own profession, chose that moment to include me in the conversation.
“I’m so sorry,” she said to me with exaggerated party manners.
“Didn’t mean to talk right across you. Everybody—this is my sister, Amanda.” Only Vicky Baer and the pale, smiling, silent creature on her other side could hear. The silent woman was also nameless. She’d whispered something inaudible as she’d seated herself, and since then, she’d nodded—silently—at anything anyone said.
She nodded now, her smile implying that of all the names Beth’s sister could have had, mine was the best, pure music to her ears.
Beth rolled on, possibly believing that her duties that evening 77
GILLIAN ROBERTS
included emceeing the event itself. I relaxed. This was going to work out amazingly well, and I was delighted that I’d come.
“Amanda’s keeping quiet like this because—” Beth said.
End of relaxing. I tensed up, hoping against hope that she wasn’t headed where I feared.
She was. “—she’s a sleuth. Be careful what you say or do!”
And like that, my sister had taken my amazing, serendipitous proximity to Victoria Baer—my incredible good fortune—and blown it to smithereens.
Did she think P.I. stood for Public Investigator? I kicked her under the table.
She looked at me in honest surprise, then moved her feet, as if that had been her fault. Then, her humor restored, she winked.
“She’s entirely too modest,” she told the table in general.
“Excuse me?” Victoria Baer said. “It’s so noisy in here. What was that? What did you say you did?”
“Fact is, I didn’t say—”
“A private investigator. Isn’t that a hoot?” Beth’s voice had climbed to new eager-anxious hostess heights. “You know, like Miss Marple.”
“She wasn’t a—”
“Okay, like Columbo.”
“He was a cop.” Not that I cared about her imagery. I cared about how she’d wrecked my stroke of good fortune, and I wanted to throttle her.
Violence wasn’t going to get me anywhere. Surely I could re-think the situation, turn this to my advantage or at least neutralize the damage. Sure, the bad news was that Vicky Baer would now be suspicious if I moved beyond table-talk pleasantries to anything specific. But given bad news, wasn’t it a cosmic necessity, then, for balance’s sake that there be good news, too? I was hard-pressed to think of what it could be, until I reminded myself that Beth hadn’t told Victoria the precise facts I needed to know.
Of course, that was because Beth didn’t know them, but all the same, I clung to that. Victoria Baer didn’t know me, and the odds 78
CLAIRE AND PRESENT DANGER
of bumping into her again were slim, so I could return to plan A and ask away.
Most of all, Vicky Baer didn’t know that her friend was being investigated and would have no reason to imagine such a thing unless I stuck both my foot and leg into my mouth.
“She’s modest about it,” Beth said, still replying to Victoria Baer’s question, which, I was sure, had been polite conversation that
And she went on, charting where their paths had crossed, friends they had in common. In short, establishing her credentials as a part, however remote, of the same social circle. I barely heard the specifics because I was too busy concentrating on what I’d say and how I’d say it when I had the chance. I reviewed the great empty page I had on Emmie Cade and where her old pal could fill in the blanks. I debated how much I could ask, and considered the downside of asking too much.
I thought about what I already knew. They’d met at school, though at what stage in their schooling, at what school, I didn’t know. I had to steer the conversation around to matters educational.
And at that point, I realized Vicky was saying that she was a consultant to nonprofits, and my sister, possibly afraid of showing her business hand and seating plan by responding with her own profession, chose that moment to include me in the conversation.
“I’m so sorry,” she said to me with exaggerated party manners.
“Didn’t mean to talk right across you. Everybody—this is my sister, Amanda.” Only Vicky Baer and the pale, smiling, silent creature on her other side could hear. The silent woman was also nameless. She’d whispered something inaudible as she’d seated herself, and since then, she’d nodded—silently—at anything anyone said.
She nodded now, her smile implying that of all the names Beth’s sister could have had, mine was the best, pure music to her ears.
Beth rolled on, possibly believing that her duties that evening 77
GILLIAN ROBERTS
included emceeing the event itself. I relaxed. This was going to work out amazingly well, and I was delighted that I’d come.
“Amanda’s keeping quiet like this because—” Beth said.
End of relaxing. I tensed up, hoping against hope that she wasn’t headed where I feared.
She was. “—she’s a sleuth. Be careful what you say or do!”
And like that, my sister had taken my amazing, serendipitous proximity to Victoria Baer—my incredible good fortune—and blown it to smithereens.
Did she think P.I. stood for Public Investigator? I kicked her under the table.
She looked at me in honest surprise, then moved her feet, as if that had been her fault. Then, her humor restored, she winked.
“She’s entirely too modest,” she told the table in general.
“Excuse me?” Victoria Baer said. “It’s so noisy in here. What was that? What did you say you did?”
“Fact is, I didn’t say—”
“A private investigator. Isn’t that a hoot?” Beth’s voice had climbed to new eager-anxious hostess heights. “You know, like Miss Marple.”
“She wasn’t a—”
“Okay, like Columbo.”
“He was a cop.” Not that I cared about her imagery. I cared about how she’d wrecked my stroke of good fortune, and I wanted to throttle her.
Violence wasn’t going to get me anywhere. Surely I could re-think the situation, turn this to my advantage or at least neutralize the damage. Sure, the bad news was that Vicky Baer would now be suspicious if I moved beyond table-talk pleasantries to anything specific. But given bad news, wasn’t it a cosmic necessity, then, for balance’s sake that there be good news, too? I was hard-pressed to think of what it could be, until I reminded myself that Beth hadn’t told Victoria the precise facts I needed to know.
Of course, that was because Beth didn’t know them, but all the same, I clung to that. Victoria Baer didn’t know me, and the odds 78
CLAIRE AND PRESENT DANGER
of bumping into her again were slim, so I could return to plan A and ask away.
Most of all, Vicky Baer didn’t know that her friend was being investigated and would have no reason to imagine such a thing unless I stuck both my foot and leg into my mouth.
“She’s modest about it,” Beth said, still replying to Victoria Baer’s question, which, I was sure, had been polite conversation that
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