Bones of a Feather - Carolyn Haines [17]
Tinkie and I exchanged a look. We wouldn’t tell her about the object falling into the river. We had no proof it was Monica—or anyone else. There was no point putting that kind of fear in Eleanor’s mind until we found evidence. But I had every intention of telling the Natchez police chief.
While I comforted Eleanor with a glass of sherry, Tinkie stepped outside to call the chief. When authority figures need to be motivated, Tinkie is the gal for the job. When they need to be pissed off, that’s my terrain. The job of consoling Eleanor fell to me.
I touched her shoulder gently. “Eleanor, we found out that Monica went to talk with Jerome about the rose garden earlier in the evening. She came back here and you spoke with her before dusk, so that would have been around eight. When she went to the garden, what was she wearing?”
The first inkling of hope showed in Eleanor’s face. “She was wearing a dark gray slack suit by her favorite designer. It fit her perfectly. I remember because she was silhouetted against the sunset and I thought how it was cut exactly for her.” She gripped the fabric scrap. “She wasn’t wearing her nightgown.”
“Can we check to see if the gown is in her room?”
“I should have thought of that.” She sprang to her feet and motioned for me to follow her through several lavishly decorated rooms and up a curving staircase so beautifully crafted it looked as if it floated on air.
Thick carpet covered the upstairs hall and absorbed the sound of our footsteps. An intruder could easily have slipped in and moved around the house without being detected.
Eleanor passed several doors before she pushed one open. “I never go in her room,” she said. “Because we were twins, we became very territorial. People think twins share everything, but it isn’t true. Sometimes we have to fight harder for an individual identity. Monica loves her privacy, and I’ve always honored that. This makes me feel like I’m violating her.”
“She’d do the same for you,” I told her.
She flipped on the light. Monica’s room was awash in shades of lavender and periwinkle blue. I was surprised by the colors.
“She loves the beach,” Eleanor said. “My room is green and rust. I love the mountains. Though we’re identical, we do have our differences.”
We decided that I would go through Monica’s spacious walk-in closet and lingerie lowboy while Eleanor searched her dresser.
Tinkie joined us. “The police are on the way. Gunny is coming personally. He apologized for not acting on your initial call, Eleanor.”
“It’s hurtful when the people in your hometown don’t believe you.” She closed the bottom drawer of the dresser. “The gown isn’t here. You didn’t find it, either, did you?” Her voice broke and she cleared her throat. “What’s happened to my sister?”
“We’ll find her,” Tinkie said.
I noticed that she made no promises about finding her alive and safe.
Monica’s gown wasn’t in her room, the bathroom, or the laundry hamper, a fact none of us could ignore.
We returned downstairs, and Tinkie put on coffee while I sat with Eleanor. Gunny arrived as Tinkie brought in a tray with the fresh coffee and cups. When I answered the door, I noticed dawn was lighting the eastern sky. I wanted a good look at the base of the cliffs, but I would wait until I could tell Gunny about what I’d witnessed during the haunted tour without Eleanor overhearing. I figured Gunny would be as interested in the bluff—and what went over the edge of it—as I was.
* * *
Gunny went through a list of questions very similar to those Tinkie and I had already asked Eleanor. Her answers were consistent. Weariness touched the corners of her eyes. For the first time, I saw her true age in the puffiness and dark circles. Her posture was perfect, but her voice was rough with grief and worry she tightly controlled.
“Why don’t you try to rest?” Gunny said when he’d finished. “My men are scouring the grounds. If there’s any evidence of foul play, we’ll find it.”
“Jerome can help,” Eleanor said. “He knows Briarcliff