“Thanks,” I said, taking a glass. “How’s the party going?”
“Oh, fine,” he said. “Now, anyway.”
“Was it not going fine before?”
He looked around as if in search of an exit, and then swallowed hard.
“You know the lady who owns the house?” he asked.
“All too well,” I said. “What’s she done now?”
“She kind of had it out with my boss earlier.”
I winced.
“It’s okay,” he said. “It was before most of the guests arrived, and one of the other ladies broke it up. That lady.”
He gestured with his head at Mother. She was dressed in an elegant black silk dress with a pouf of white chiffon on one shoulder, and a pair of high-heeled black shoes so simple and understated that I didn’t even want to imagine their price.
“What were they arguing about?” I asked.
The waiter shrugged.
“No idea, but if I’m ever in trouble, I want her on my side,” he said, looking approvingly at Mother.
Just then Mother looked up, and saw us. She smiled, waved, and said a few words to the people she was with, then turned and headed our way. Standing still, she had been a vision of monochromatic glamour, but as soon as she took a step, a little pleat in her skirt opened to reveal a flash of scarlet satin from waist to hem. I hoped I was around when Mrs. Winkleson noticed the red, especially if she tried to give Mother a hard time about it. Since I didn’t remember ever seeing that dress before, I wondered if Mother had had it made specially to annoy Mrs. Winkleson. I wouldn’t put it past her. Mother enjoyed guerilla warfare with fashion and decorating.
“Hello, dear.” She gave me a quick kiss on the cheek. “Everything going well?” she asked the waiter.
“Fine, thanks to you, ma’am,” he said, and slipped away.
“I gather Mrs. Winkleson has been terrorizing the caterers?” I said,
“I’m astonished that no one has tried to murder that woman before,” Mother said, frowning. “And I don’t think I will ever forgive the murderer for botching things up so badly and mistaking Mrs. Sechrest for Mrs. Winkleson. Such a lovely woman. Quiet. Well-mannered.”
“Murderer?” I repeated. “She didn’t make it, then?”
Mother shook her head.
“Be kind to your father, dear. You know how hard he takes it when he loses a patient.”
“Even one who was probably already dead before she became his patient,” I said. “I know. Where is he?”
Mother pointed. Dad was standing with three other garden club members, but he didn’t really look as if he cared about the conversation.
“Look,” I said. “I know the whole thing with the manure was exasperating, but—”
“Don’t worry, dear,” she said. “In the face of something like what happened today, such small, petty quarrels seem very silly, don’t they?”
I nodded, and sipped my champagne, feeling an enormous sense of relief wash over me.
“Besides,” she went on, “he promised never to mulch the roses again without checking with me first.” She beamed in Dad’s direction.
“Where are Caroline and my grandfather, anyway?” I asked, as I looked around. “I was hoping they’d help rescue me from the swan.”
“From the what?”
“Long story,” I said. “They don’t seem to be here.”
“They said they were both tired and going home to rest.” Mother’s emphasis on the word “said” might have been unnoticeable to someone else, but I could tell she was skeptical. “They said to tell you that Spike was fine and they were taking him home with them.”
“So where do you think they really went?”
She shrugged.
“Following a lead, I gather, from something I wasn’t supposed to overhear. I have no idea what.”
“A lead?” I echoed. “They’re taking an interest in the murder? That’s odd. I’d have bet you could slaughter any number of humans without unsettling them, as long as you didn’t alarm any animals in the process.”
“No doubt,” Mother said. “But in spite of everything they’ve seen today, they’re still convinced that there’s some animal welfare issue here at Mrs. Winkleson’s, and they’re off following their lead. It may not have anything to do with the murder, if that makes you feel better.”
“Not appreciably,” I said. “But thanks.”
“Dr. Rutledge is driving them,” she said.
“Then it’s definitely animal welfare, not the murder,” I said, with a sigh. Our local vet was probably as passionate about animal welfare as Caroline and my grandfather. “Maybe he’ll keep them out of trouble.”