The Unkindest Cut (21 page)

If, if, if. All I had were theories, no real, hard facts. If the card meant something, it could be any of several possibilities. Was I simply wasting my time in silly speculation?

So much for being Nancy Drew. I decided it was time for action. I might as well be downstairs playing bridge. I glanced at the clock. Only a little over an hour now before I was supposed to meet Marylou and Sophie for lunch.

I used the bathroom, then checked myself in the mirror. The bare minimum of makeup that I wore didn’t need much retouching. I was on my way downstairs moments later.

In the elevator I considered whether I should go to Deputy Ainsworth and tell him my ideas about the significance of the queen of diamonds. At first I had been really excited by the possibility that I had found an important clue to the killer’s identity. The more I mulled it over, however, the more uncertain I was that it actually meant anything. Ainsworth might think I was a complete idiot for even wasting his time on something like this.

On the other hand . . .
Oh, stop it!
I admonished myself as the elevator doors slid open on the first floor.
Stop being so wishy-washy.
When I next saw the deputy, I would tell him what I thought the card could mean, and he could take it from there. And if he thought I was a complete nutcase, then he would just have to think it.

I stepped off the elevator and took a few steps in the direction of the ballroom, then halted.

Maybe I should try to find the deputy and talk to him right away. Yes, best to get it over with, I decided.

I turned in the other direction and headed for the corridor where the sheriff’s department had set up its headquarters for the investigation.

Pausing on the threshold of the room, I glanced around, hoping to see Deputy Ainsworth. He didn’t appear to be there, and I didn’t know whether to be irritated or relieved.

‘‘Can I help you, ma’am?’’

The person addressing me was the young female deputy who had accompanied Ainsworth yesterday. I glanced discreetly at her name tag. ‘‘Um, Deputy Jordan, I was hoping to find Deputy Ainsworth.’’

‘‘He’s not here right now, Mrs. Diamond,’’ she said. ‘‘Is there something I can help you with?’’

I hesitated for a moment. I could explain everything to her; then she could convey it all to her superior. If he wanted to question me further, he could. If he didn’t, well, I wouldn’t have to worry about it anymore.

‘‘Yes, there is,’’ I said after a pause that went on just a bit too long.

‘‘Why don’t you come over here and sit down?’’ Deputy Jordan conducted me to a desk on the other side of the room. She indicated a chair by the desk, and I sat down.

‘‘It’s about the card that Avery Trowbridge had in his hand,’’ I said. I waited a moment, and she nodded encouragement.

‘‘I found a book on the history of bridge,’’ I said, ‘‘and one section of the book tells about the history of playing cards.’’ I could see her trying to hide her impatience. I hurried on. ‘‘The different face cards originally were symbols for historic persons, and it’s just possible that Avery Trowbridge was trying to tell us something by holding the queen of diamonds.’’

‘‘Like what?’’ Suddenly, Deputy Jordan appeared more interested in what I had to say.

‘‘Bear with me,’’ I said. ‘‘This will take a few minutes. ’’ As succinctly as I could, I explained the symbolism of the cards, and then I told her my theories about the queen of diamonds. At some point I realized she had begun jotting notes on a pad of paper.

‘‘Go on,’’ she said when I paused.

‘‘That’s about it,’’ I said. ‘‘It all may not mean a blessed thing, but I thought you should know, just in case.’’

‘‘So you don’t think the card refers to you?’’ A suspicion of smile lurked around her lips.

‘‘No, I don’t,’’ I said tartly. ‘‘I had only met the man the day before, and I had no reason to kill him. My name is just a coincidence in this case.’’

‘‘Yes, ma’am,’’ Deputy Jordan said, smiling broadly now. She stood up. ‘‘Thank you for telling me about this, Mrs. Diamond. I’ll make sure Deputy Ainsworth hears about this. He may have more questions for you.’’

‘‘Of course,’’ I said, standing up also. ‘‘I’m sure he’ll be able to find me if he wants to talk to me. Thank you, Deputy.’’ I turned away and walked toward the door. Once there, I paused and looked back. Jordan was on her cell phone, talking to someone. I hoped it was Ainsworth.

Out in the corridor, I glanced at my watch. It was about ten minutes till I was supposed to meet Sophie and Marylou in the dining room. I might as well wait there.

I stopped in the doorway of the dining room and looked around to see whether my dining companions had arrived early.

They hadn’t, and I was about to turn back and have a seat in the waiting area when I spotted someone waving at me from a table near one of the windows.

I waved back, and Will Trowbridge indicated that he wanted me to join him.
Why not?
I thought. I doubted that Marylou and Sophie would mind, and when Sophie joined us, I was sure she would charm Will to no end. She generally had that effect on men of any age.

‘‘Hello, Will,’’ I said as I reached the table.

He stood up. ‘‘Hello, Mrs. Diamond. Please sit with me. I really hate to eat alone.’’

He held my chair for me, and I sat down, feeling about a hundred years old. I wasn’t used to such courtly gestures from young men. ‘‘Thank you.’’ He ducked his head, looking slightly embarrassed.

Resuming his seat, Will said, ‘‘I haven’t ordered yet, but the waitress ought to be back in a minute with my tea.’’ He opened his mouth to say something else, but no words came out. He fixed his gaze on the tablecloth.

I smiled. He really did seem to be a nice boy, and I felt sorry for him, being no doubt dragged here by his mother. Before I could say anything, the waitress appeared with Will’s tea. ‘‘I’ll have the same,’’ I told her. She nodded and walked away.

‘‘Is your mother playing bridge this morning?’’ I asked.

Will nodded. ‘‘She’s as nutty about bridge as my dad was.’’ A spasm of pain crossed his face. ‘‘God, I hate this.’’ His clenched hands rested on the table in front of him.

‘‘I know,’’ I reached over to pat one of his hands. ‘‘It’s way beyond awful, and I wish there were more I could do to help you, Will.’’

‘‘I’m okay,’’ he said, looking anything but okay. ‘‘I’ve just got to get used to it.’’

I didn’t want to tell him that I didn’t think you could ever completely ‘‘get used to it,’’ because that wasn’t what he needed to hear right now. Instead I said, ‘‘You should concentrate on the good memories as much as possible, and let everything else go. I know it’s hard, but if you can do that, it does help.’’

He nodded.

To try distracting him, I asked him about college. He was studying history, I discovered, and he was passionately interested in Elizabethan England. We stopped our discussion long enough to order our meals, and when the food came, we both ate without tasting much of it, I realized later. He was very knowledgeable, as well as very articulate. He was the kind of student I always dreamed of having and encountered only once in a blue moon.

Suddenly Will broke off as he glanced over my shoulder. ‘‘Oh, great,’’ he said, ‘‘speak of the devil.’’

‘‘What do you mean?’’ I asked, startled.

‘‘Here comes Her Majesty,’’ he said, sarcasm dripping from the words. ‘‘Lorraine Regina herself.’’ He pronounced ‘‘Regina’’ in the British fashion, ‘‘re-JI-NUH. ’’

My eyes widened in surprise. ‘‘Why do you call her that?’’

‘‘That’s what Dad always called her,’’ Will said, leaning forward and whispering. She must have been getting close to us. ‘‘Regina is her middle name, and that’s Latin for ‘queen.’ ’’

Chapter 23

‘‘Are you okay?’’ Will asked me.

I nodded. ‘‘I’m fine.’’

‘‘You sure look funny,’’ he said, seeming not entirely convinced.

‘‘No, really,’’ I said, ‘‘I’m okay.’’ I smiled to reassure him, though actually I felt anything but okay. My mind was racing with the implications of what I had just learned. Suddenly, my food wasn’t sitting too well in my stomach.

‘‘Will, I thought you were going to lunch with me,’’ Lorraine Trowbridge said, sliding into an empty chair between her son and me. She gave me a cool glance.

Will reddened. ‘‘You’re almost an hour later than you said you’d be.’’

‘‘I see you found someone else to share your meal,’’ Lorraine said, deigning to smile at me.

‘‘Yes, Will was kind enough to invite me to share his table,’’ I said. I kept my voice cool. ‘‘I dislike eating alone, and I’m sure Will does, too. We had quite an interesting chat, actually.’’

‘‘Really?’’ Lorraine said, one eyebrow raised. ‘‘And what did you two find to chatter about?’’

‘‘History,’’ Will said, almost spitting out the word. ‘‘Something that doesn’t interest you.’’

Lorraine laughed. ‘‘You really shouldn’t bore other people with this obsession of yours, Will.’’

I wanted to slap the woman. I couldn’t bear seeing the hurt in her son’s eyes. ‘‘On the contrary, Lorraine, I found Will anything
but
boring. I’m
obsessed
with history as much as he is. In fact, I used to teach it.’’ I paused for a moment to let that sink in. ‘‘I think your son will make a first-rate historian, and if there’s ever anything I can do to help him’’—here I turned to face Will—‘‘then I will be delighted to do so.’’

Will acknowledged my words by nodding slightly; then he ducked his head in embarrassment. Lorraine appeared not in the least fazed by my little speech. She shrugged.

‘‘I’m glad he found such a kindred spirit,’’ she said. She raised a hand to summon a waitress. ‘‘I’m sure you’ll excuse us, Emma, but I’d like to talk to my son in private.’’

By now I shouldn’t have been surprised by the woman’s rudeness, but I was still taken aback. ‘‘Certainly, ’’ I said, trying to hold on to my temper. I thought briefly about dashing the contents of my water glass in her face, but that would be childish.

Instead, I rose from my seat and picked up my bag. ‘‘Will, thank you for a delightful conversation. I enjoyed every minute of it.’’ I let my gaze rest upon Lorraine, and she stared back at me. I molded my face into an expression that I had seen my mother use more times than I could count. I called it her ‘‘I just saw a nasty bug’’ face. I held it for a few seconds. Then I smiled.

Lorraine blinked and the color rose quickly in her face. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

‘‘Have a nice day,’’ I said, turned, and walked away. Behind me I heard what sounded like smothered laughter.

I probably should have been ashamed of myself for behaving like that, but I actually enjoyed it. Lorraine Trowbridge was a nasty woman, and I wasn’t going to waste any remorse over her. I did feel awfully sorry for her son, though.

Lorraine
Regina
Trowbridge, I remembered. Because of the woman’s shoddy behavior, I had briefly forgotten what Will told me.

Regina. An anagram of ‘‘Argine.’’ The queen of diamonds in the Rouen tradition of naming the face cards.

Maybe Avery was trying to tell us that Lorraine was the killer. He even called her that, according to what Will had said. Other people might be aware of the nickname, too, so Avery could count on someone informing the authorities.

I was so lost in thought that I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going. Suddenly, I felt hands on my arms, and someone said, ‘‘Hang on, Emma.’’

I stopped and focused. ‘‘Sophie, Marylou,’’ I said. ‘‘I’m sorry, I forgot all about you.’’

‘‘We know,’’ Sophie said with a laugh.

‘‘We saw you in the dining room with Will Trowbridge, ’’ Marylou said, ‘‘and you seemed so wrapped up in your conversation we decided not to interrupt.’’

‘‘What on earth were you two talking about so intensely? ’’ Sophie asked.

As we talked, Sophie and Marylou led me in the direction of the ballroom.

‘‘History,’’ I said. ‘‘Will told me that he’s a history major, and his favorite period is Elizabethan England. That’s what we were talking about.’’

‘‘I might have known,’’ Sophie said, shaking her head. ‘‘No wonder you didn’t see us.’’

I laughed. ‘‘No, sorry.’’

‘‘What do you think of Will?’’ Marylou asked. We had reached the ballroom, and we stood to one side of the doors, still in the corridor.

‘‘He’s a very nice young man with a nasty shrew for a mother,’’ I said, and I told them how Lorraine had behaved when she joined us at the table.

‘‘What a cow,’’ Sophie said. ‘‘I would call her something worse, but Marylou would have a fit.’’ She grinned.

Marylou laughed. ‘‘I don’t know—in this case I might let you get away with it. How could she treat her own son that way?’’ She shook her head. ‘‘That poor boy.’’

‘‘So you don’t think he’s the killer?’’ Sophie dropped her voice to a whisper as several people walked past us into the ballroom.

‘‘No, I don’t think so,’’ I said. ‘‘Look, I’ve got a lot to tell you. Can we skip playing bridge for a little while? We need to talk, and we ought to do it in private.’’

‘‘Of course,’’ Marylou said. ‘‘Let’s go upstairs.’’

Sophie led the way to the elevator, and we were soon on our way upstairs. ‘‘Can’t you give us a hint?’’ Sophie asked as we stepped out onto our floor.

I looked around, and since there didn’t seem to be anyone about, I said, ‘‘I found what I think might be a really important clue to the killer’s identity.’’

Sophie’s eyes widened, and Marylou inhaled sharply.

‘‘We certainly don’t want to talk about it out here in the hall,’’ Marylou said, putting on speed. ‘‘Come on, I can’t wait to hear this.’’

I had never seen Marylou move quite so fast, and Sophie and I hustled to catch up to her.

We were all a little breathless by the time we reached our suite. Marylou fumbled with the key, and Sophie had to take over so we could get into the room.