and neutral so that the heaviness one felt upon entering the gloomy residence immediately dissipated. Her mother-in-law, Teddy’s grandmother McDowell, tried to die when Phoebe had the grand staircase painted a glossy white. After the deed was done, the old lady admitted, albeit grudgingly, that it did “bring life to the old mausoleum.”
Phoebe had been patient all evening, allowing the conversation to meander through a variety of topics ranging from Ethan’s writer’s block, Marc’s menus for the weekend, and Teddy and Vicki’s plans for a new stone wall along the river walk to replace the century-old one that was starting to crumble and fall away in places. Finally, as everyone swooned over slices of Mrs. O’Hanion’s lattice-topped cherry pie topped with homemade vanilla ice cream, and after what she considered to be the proper amount of time before a hostess could totally railroad the conversation, Phoebe cleared her throat and spoke. “Theodore, just what are our plans for unmasking whoever is posing a threat to Rosamund? And kindly remove that smirk from your face. I know you think it’s charming, but it can be highly irritating at times.” She took a sip of coffee from her delicate china cup. “And if you haven’t formulated a plan, I have what I believe to be a viable course of action for nabbing the perp.”
After only the briefest of hesitations, everyone continued to eat his or her pie and drink his or her coffee, avoiding the urge to smile knowingly at or even share a glance with another occupant of the room, because not one of them wanted to risk getting caught and receiving “the look.” “The look” was famous in social circles, the boardroom of McDowell Financial and among the current denizens of Lenore’s Folly. “The look” was to be avoided at all costs.
“Well, can anyone here speak?”
“Mother, did you just say, “nabbing the perp?” Teddy asked as he raised his eyebrow at a benignly smiling Vincent.
“Yes, Theodore, it means capturing the perpetrator. In this particular instance, it refers to the person responsible for these threats.”
“Ahhh, the perpetrator.” Teddy got up from his seat on one of the sofas and went to a side table where Gerald had left a tray with a decanter of brandy and several snifters. “Mother, what makes you so certain that ‘the perp’ is going to be at Lenore’s Folly this weekend?” He picked up the tray and carried it over to the large ivory tufted silk ottoman that sat between the two sofas.
“I’m not certain, Theodore, but based on my conversation with Clea, as well as some independent research, I feel that there is a chance that someone on your guest list is responsible.”
“Such as … ?”
“Vincent, would you please distribute the information packets?”
Vincent smiled at the group as he picked up a stack of folders and walked around the drawing room, handing one to everyone present. Eyebrows raised around the room as everyone read the report. Clearly, Phoebe, and no doubt Vincent, had been very busy this week. Extensive files had been prepared on each of the guests who would be staying at Lenore’s Folly for the weekend.
Vicki looked up from the folder and shook her head in amazement. “Phoebe, this is amazing …”
“ And a little frightening,” Teddy muttered under his breath.
Vicki gave her husband her own version of “the look” for interrupting her. “How in the world did you get this information?
“Yeah,” Marc said. “I need your contacts. There’s stuff in here that even I don’t know.”
Phoebe smiled enigmatically and with a conspiratorial glance at Vincent said, “I’m truly sorry but I’m not at liberty to disclose my sources.” Vincent looked at her expectantly, as if prompting his employer. “Oh,” she added, “I could tell you but then I would have to kill you.” Vincent smiled and gave her a quick approving nod. Phoebe sat back in her chair, extremely pleased with
Phoebe had been patient all evening, allowing the conversation to meander through a variety of topics ranging from Ethan’s writer’s block, Marc’s menus for the weekend, and Teddy and Vicki’s plans for a new stone wall along the river walk to replace the century-old one that was starting to crumble and fall away in places. Finally, as everyone swooned over slices of Mrs. O’Hanion’s lattice-topped cherry pie topped with homemade vanilla ice cream, and after what she considered to be the proper amount of time before a hostess could totally railroad the conversation, Phoebe cleared her throat and spoke. “Theodore, just what are our plans for unmasking whoever is posing a threat to Rosamund? And kindly remove that smirk from your face. I know you think it’s charming, but it can be highly irritating at times.” She took a sip of coffee from her delicate china cup. “And if you haven’t formulated a plan, I have what I believe to be a viable course of action for nabbing the perp.”
After only the briefest of hesitations, everyone continued to eat his or her pie and drink his or her coffee, avoiding the urge to smile knowingly at or even share a glance with another occupant of the room, because not one of them wanted to risk getting caught and receiving “the look.” “The look” was famous in social circles, the boardroom of McDowell Financial and among the current denizens of Lenore’s Folly. “The look” was to be avoided at all costs.
“Well, can anyone here speak?”
“Mother, did you just say, “nabbing the perp?” Teddy asked as he raised his eyebrow at a benignly smiling Vincent.
“Yes, Theodore, it means capturing the perpetrator. In this particular instance, it refers to the person responsible for these threats.”
“Ahhh, the perpetrator.” Teddy got up from his seat on one of the sofas and went to a side table where Gerald had left a tray with a decanter of brandy and several snifters. “Mother, what makes you so certain that ‘the perp’ is going to be at Lenore’s Folly this weekend?” He picked up the tray and carried it over to the large ivory tufted silk ottoman that sat between the two sofas.
“I’m not certain, Theodore, but based on my conversation with Clea, as well as some independent research, I feel that there is a chance that someone on your guest list is responsible.”
“Such as … ?”
“Vincent, would you please distribute the information packets?”
Vincent smiled at the group as he picked up a stack of folders and walked around the drawing room, handing one to everyone present. Eyebrows raised around the room as everyone read the report. Clearly, Phoebe, and no doubt Vincent, had been very busy this week. Extensive files had been prepared on each of the guests who would be staying at Lenore’s Folly for the weekend.
Vicki looked up from the folder and shook her head in amazement. “Phoebe, this is amazing …”
“ And a little frightening,” Teddy muttered under his breath.
Vicki gave her husband her own version of “the look” for interrupting her. “How in the world did you get this information?
“Yeah,” Marc said. “I need your contacts. There’s stuff in here that even I don’t know.”
Phoebe smiled enigmatically and with a conspiratorial glance at Vincent said, “I’m truly sorry but I’m not at liberty to disclose my sources.” Vincent looked at her expectantly, as if prompting his employer. “Oh,” she added, “I could tell you but then I would have to kill you.” Vincent smiled and gave her a quick approving nod. Phoebe sat back in her chair, extremely pleased with
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