Dead Man Docking - Mary Daheim [87]
Nodding farewell at Connie, Paul, and the doctor, Renie crossed the room to join Judith and the St. Georges.
“Mmm,” she murmured, studying the salad plates, “any crab or shrimp in there?”
Rhoda shook her head. “Mainly greens. But the vinaigrette dressing is nice.”
Renie seemed to lose interest. “I’ll wait for the next course.”
With long years of practice, Rick wielded the martini shaker. “May I refresh your cocktail?” he asked his wife.
“Of course, darling,” Rhoda replied. “Thank you. We should go back to the dining room, though it’s really too, too grim. Why did we come?”
“To sleuth, my dove, to sleuth.” Rick poured out fresh drinks for his wife and himself. “Ladies?” he said to Judith and Renie.
They declined.
“One thing,” Renie said as the St. Georges picked up their salad plates. “CeeCee Orr was at Neiman Marcus yesterday when Émile was murdered.”
Judith stared at her cousin. “I wondered. How can you be sure?”
“I decided to help…Beulah gather up Connie and Paul’s belongings. We all left our purses in the foyer, right? I figured CeeCee for the red Kate Spade handbag because it matched her dress. A dress, by the way, I’d noticed at the store.”
Judith nodded. “So did I. It’s my favorite color,” she added for the benefit of Rick and Rhoda.
“Mine, too,” Renie said. “Anyway, I thought she might have kept the receipt in her purse. She had, and the time of purchase was listed. It was twenty minutes before I spotted Émile’s body.”
Rick whistled softly. “Bravo!”
Rhoda smiled her approval. “Very nice work.”
Judith was tempted to reveal her frustrating conversation with Anemone, but held back. If the young woman hadn’t killed Émile—and Judith doubted that she had—then there was no point in revealing the episode until the allegedly humiliating reason for Anemone’s presence at the store was discovered.
The foursome resumed their places during Beulah’s presentation of a crown rib roast of lamb. Erma nodded her regal approbation and allowed Horace the honor of carving the portions. Jim Brooks returned to the table a moment later.
“Anemone’s going to take a nap,” he announced.
“Very well,” Erma said. “Tomorrow I shall consult a hypnotist.”
“For Anemone?” Jim asked in surprise.
“No,” Erma replied coldly. “For myself. I’ve been told that hypnosis is useful in solving crimes. Somewhere in my subconscious I may know who stole my jewels.”
“How about that?” Rick remarked glibly. “I don’t suppose your subconscious might reveal who killed Mags, Dixie, and Émile?”
Erma shrugged. “That’s not my concern.”
Chevy, moving in a diffident manner, entered the dining room and came up behind Rick’s chair. She whispered something into his ear and shuffled away.
“Excuse me,” Rick said, standing up. “I have an urgent phone call. I’ll take it in the study, if I may.”
Erma shrugged again. “As you will. While you’re there, please don’t breathe on my ananas.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Rick said with a charming smile.
CeeCee looked puzzled as she turned to look at Erma. “I thought you were sitting on it, Mrs. Giddon.”
Erma glared at CeeCee. “An ananas is a houseplant, otherwise known as a pineapple plant. It requires a high amount of humidity.”
“Oh.” CeeCee beamed. “Ain’t that something? Growing pineapples in your own house! Got any cantaloupes or kumquats around here?”
“Hardly.” Erma looked as if she could barely endure conversing with CeeCee. “The particular type of pineapple plant I have doesn’t produce fruit, only flowers.”
CeeCee blinked a couple of times. “Well, gee, I think I’d rather have one with real pineapples.” She looked across the table to Horace. “Why don’t you buy me a banana tree, Panky? I’ll bet I could grow one on your roof garden. Or,” she went on, gathering steam, “how about this—you could put all kinds of fruit plants and stuff in the cork-and-sponge museum. Like…what do you call it where there’s a glass roof?”
“A greenhouse?” Ambrose suggested.
“An atrium,” Horace replied. The sour expression he’d been wearing disappeared. “That’s