leather front seat. I was left enough room on the passenger side if I didn’t want to use my arms. Bitty wore a deep purple velvet outfit, matching stilettos, I was sure, and her diamond bracelet caught the sunlight in tiny refractions so that it looked like she was plugged in to electricity. I felt definitely dowdy next to these two sparkling creatures.
“You’re blinding me,” I said, and slammed shut the passenger side door. “Did you bring enough batteries for those floodlights you’re wearing?”
“Did you bring a change of clothes?”
“Don’t be a snob. These are nice navy slacks, and the sweater set is Sag Harbor. I look very nice.”
Bitty started the Benz. “Well, thank heavens you’re pretty, or you’d never get away with that outfit where we’re going.”
My head began to buzz. I wasn’t sure if my reaction was because she’d actually given me a back-handed compliment, or because the phrase “where we’re going” held a sudden connotation of danger.
“Where are we going?”
“Why, didn’t I tell you? To Oxford.’
“I know that , Bitty. Where in Oxford? I thought we were going to see the boys?”
“Well, that too, of course, but first we’re going to the professor’s house. Alumni, staff, and friends are invited to a sort of wake for Sturgis.”
The buzzing in my head got so loud I looked around for a bee hive. Nope. All in my head. That was scary enough. Just the thought of me, Bitty and Chitling at a wake for Professor Sturgis was enough to catapult me over the edge right into panic.
I grabbed hold of the car’s expensive dashboard and braced my feet against the floorboards as if I were being dragged. It was my metaphorical protest since Bitty had the Benz rolling fairly fast down our driveway.
“No,” I said. “I’m not going. Let me out here. I’ll walk back up to the house.”
“Don’t be silly, Trinket. We need to show proper respect for the dead. You don’t want people to talk about us, do you?”
“Bitty, I’m quite certain people talk about us no matter what we do now, so that’s not exactly a great concern of mine. Showing proper respect for the dead should include not rolling him around in a laundry cart, as well as popping up at his house later as if we knew nothing about his death.”
“Well, we don’t know anything about how he died. Except, of course, that he was strangled with a wire clothes hanger and hidden in Clayton’s dormitory closet.”
“That’s probably more than the Oxford police know right now,” I pointed out. “Stop the car. Let me out. I don’t want to go.”
“If I thought you meant that,” Bitty began as she aimed the car toward the road, swerved into a turn and picked up speed down the hill, “I’d be very upset. However, I know you don’t want to disappoint me.”
“I do. Oh, I do. If it means having to stand in the professor’s living room and offer his wife my condolences when all the time I’m waiting for someone to ask me why we were pushing a gigantic laundry cart across the campus, I want to disappoint you. I can’t stand the suspense. You know that. You know I hate waiting on bad news.”
“You’re such a pessimist. Good heavens—where did all those houses come from? I haven’t seen them before, have I?”
“I assume you’re referring to the subdivision we’re passing. You’ve been passing them for about five years now. Daddy sold the cow pasture to some land developers. Stop trying to distract me, and do stop the car. I can still get back to the house before dark if I walk really fast.”
“Nonsense, Trinket. It’s not even noon yet. You’d be back at the house before lunch if I let you out.”
“Are you? Going to let me out?”
“Of course not. We need to stick together. I talked it over with Gaynelle, and she thinks going down there and seeing if anything out of the normal is said or done is a fine idea.”
“Gaynelle’s in her sixties now. She’s probably getting senile
“You’re blinding me,” I said, and slammed shut the passenger side door. “Did you bring enough batteries for those floodlights you’re wearing?”
“Did you bring a change of clothes?”
“Don’t be a snob. These are nice navy slacks, and the sweater set is Sag Harbor. I look very nice.”
Bitty started the Benz. “Well, thank heavens you’re pretty, or you’d never get away with that outfit where we’re going.”
My head began to buzz. I wasn’t sure if my reaction was because she’d actually given me a back-handed compliment, or because the phrase “where we’re going” held a sudden connotation of danger.
“Where are we going?”
“Why, didn’t I tell you? To Oxford.’
“I know that , Bitty. Where in Oxford? I thought we were going to see the boys?”
“Well, that too, of course, but first we’re going to the professor’s house. Alumni, staff, and friends are invited to a sort of wake for Sturgis.”
The buzzing in my head got so loud I looked around for a bee hive. Nope. All in my head. That was scary enough. Just the thought of me, Bitty and Chitling at a wake for Professor Sturgis was enough to catapult me over the edge right into panic.
I grabbed hold of the car’s expensive dashboard and braced my feet against the floorboards as if I were being dragged. It was my metaphorical protest since Bitty had the Benz rolling fairly fast down our driveway.
“No,” I said. “I’m not going. Let me out here. I’ll walk back up to the house.”
“Don’t be silly, Trinket. We need to show proper respect for the dead. You don’t want people to talk about us, do you?”
“Bitty, I’m quite certain people talk about us no matter what we do now, so that’s not exactly a great concern of mine. Showing proper respect for the dead should include not rolling him around in a laundry cart, as well as popping up at his house later as if we knew nothing about his death.”
“Well, we don’t know anything about how he died. Except, of course, that he was strangled with a wire clothes hanger and hidden in Clayton’s dormitory closet.”
“That’s probably more than the Oxford police know right now,” I pointed out. “Stop the car. Let me out. I don’t want to go.”
“If I thought you meant that,” Bitty began as she aimed the car toward the road, swerved into a turn and picked up speed down the hill, “I’d be very upset. However, I know you don’t want to disappoint me.”
“I do. Oh, I do. If it means having to stand in the professor’s living room and offer his wife my condolences when all the time I’m waiting for someone to ask me why we were pushing a gigantic laundry cart across the campus, I want to disappoint you. I can’t stand the suspense. You know that. You know I hate waiting on bad news.”
“You’re such a pessimist. Good heavens—where did all those houses come from? I haven’t seen them before, have I?”
“I assume you’re referring to the subdivision we’re passing. You’ve been passing them for about five years now. Daddy sold the cow pasture to some land developers. Stop trying to distract me, and do stop the car. I can still get back to the house before dark if I walk really fast.”
“Nonsense, Trinket. It’s not even noon yet. You’d be back at the house before lunch if I let you out.”
“Are you? Going to let me out?”
“Of course not. We need to stick together. I talked it over with Gaynelle, and she thinks going down there and seeing if anything out of the normal is said or done is a fine idea.”
“Gaynelle’s in her sixties now. She’s probably getting senile
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