The Seventh Sinner - Elizabeth Peters [60]
Di Cavallo saw Jean’s grin, and his handsome face froze into a mask of fury. Looking six inches taller than his actual height, he stalked toward the elevator. There was an unseemly melee in the foyer; the other invaders had retreated precipitately as soon as they realized what was going on, and they were milling in an uncertain group near the door. Finally di Cavallo managed to reach the elevator. He entered it, and stood with his back to them until the door closed.
Meeting Jean’s eye, Andy twisted his features into a grimace of amused chagrin. She made a reassuring gesture and advanced tentatively into the salone.
Jacqueline, smoothing down her ruffled hair, said coolly, “You may as well come in. All of you.”
“I’m sorry,” Jean began.
“You’d be within your rights to blast us,” Andy added. “We had no business barging in here.”
“Dear boy, don’t apologize. Who knows,” Jacqueline said dreamily, “what you may have saved me from? A fate—”
“I’d prefer that to death any day,” said Ann. “What did he come here for, Jake?”
“Hey, babe,” Andy said, staring at his sister in surprise. “Watch it.”
“That’s all right,” Jacqueline said. “He dropped by to give me the latest results of the investigation. The police seem to assume I’m the adult responsible for this group of nuts. Sorry about that.”
“We’re sorry you were dragged into it,” Andy said, still glaring at his sister. “You’ve been damned nice, and the only reward we seem to offer you is involvement in our messy private affairs. Am I right in supposing the lieutenant was only using that as an excuse to—er—call on you?”
“I refuse to answer on the usual grounds. Anyhow, the suicide theory stands. I imagine that’s something of a relief.”
She looked at them inquiringly. It was Andy who answered.
“Not really. I don’t know about the rest of you guys, but I haven’t thought much about it. That sounds callous, I suppose, but—well, there wasn’t much doubt, was there?”
“At any rate, it’s over and done with,” Jacqueline said. “And,” she added casually, “so is my visit to Rome almost over. Lise is returning on Sunday, and my work here is done. So I’ll be leaving.”
“Oh, no,” Andy said. “You can’t leave us like this. What are we going to do without our mother image? And her swimming pool?”
“You’ll have to return to your slummy, poverty-stricken existence,” Jacqueline said nastily. “That’s the trouble with giving you long-haired degenerates a few comforts; you get so you expect them. When you’re my age, you’ll appreciate the value of hard work and a set of decent moral values. I don’t know what this generation is coming to. Immoral, shiftless, pot-smoking…. Ann, darling, don’t look like that. I’m joking.”
Ann’s sober face lightened. She glanced uncertainly from one grinning face to the next; and Andy said cheerfully, “Jake’s just getting back into practice. That’s the way she talks to students when she’s on duty.”
Jean managed to produce a smile, but she felt as if someone had kicked her in the pit of the stomach. Fond as she was of Jacqueline, it wasn’t the loss of the mother image, as Andy had called her, that bothered Jean; it was Jacqueline’s change of attitude. No one with any sense of compassion or responsibility could walk out on an unsolved murder and a very vulnerable witness; and Jacqueline was not lacking in either trait. What had di Cavallo told her, before his hormones got the better of him? Jean tried to be rational. If Jacqueline