Grand Prize: Murder!. Vivian Conroy

Lilian probably had a separate library.

      Maybe even with a movable ladder?

      Something like that was Vicky’s secret dream.

      Would Lilian show off the library to Bella Brookes if she did come to the party on Friday?

      Marge said to Lilian, “I never knew you liked Agatha Christie.”

      Lilian made an eloquent hand gesture. “Doesn’t everyone? I do hope you can bring Bella Brookes. Her presence will lend such a nice touch to the party. I only hope the weather will be better than it has been for the past few days. It’s always raining at night. But we have room to move inside if need be. I read somewhere that Bella Brookes adores tropical flowers so she must take a look at my orchids.”

      Left in Lilian’s personal care, the orchids would probably be dead quickly, Vicky guessed. The socialite’s French manicured hands weren’t made to dig into the earth, or even handle a sprinkling can. And orchids were fussy about their treatment. Too much water could be fatal in a flash. But she said, “Bella will be delighted to see your conservatory if she’s still free on Friday night. I’ll give your invitation to her and she’ll let you know, I’m sure.”

      “Wonderful. Got to dash. See you all Friday night.” And Lilian was gone, leaving just the lingering scent of her expensive perfume. Coco seemed to realize the chance for a treat was gone and returned to Claire with her head down.

      Vicky clutched the envelopes, glancing at Marge.

      Marge glanced back, then burst out laughing. “That look on your face. Just like Coco’s.”

      “Well,” Vicky said, “do I feel happy or insulted? It’s obvious Lilian only wants Bella Brookes as special star at her party and is just using us as the channels through which she manages to reel her in. She blatantly ignored Ms. Tennings and my mother, as if they weren’t even here.”

      “She could hardly explain she wasn’t inviting them,” Marge said. “Lilian likes to maintain an exclusive guest list. She only included us because of Bella.”

      “Exactly.” Vicky grimaced. “Perhaps we should have said we had other engagements already?”

      “Are you crazy? Miss the chance to see her award-winning home? The place is probably loaded with valuables.”

      Claire nodded. She lowered her voice. “My friends told me that Lilian even hires a security firm.”

      Ms. Tennings added, “To mingle discreetly among the guests and keep an eye out for misplaced items.”

      Vicky stared at them. “Lilian thinks guests are going to steal at her parties?”

      Claire nodded violently and said, “Sometime ago a jade statuette vanished after a party. Lilian never reported the theft to the police because she was worried her friends would be questioned and hate her for it. They don’t want anything to do with the law.”

      She made big eyes. “Maybe whoever took the statuette will be back for more?”

      “Whatever. I’m going.” Marge clutched the invitation to her chest. “I just have to figure out what to wear. Buy or rent, that’s the question. I have to get Kev into a tux too.”

      Claire studied Vicky. “Who are you taking?”

      “Taking?” Vicky echoed.

      “Yes, it’s an invite for you and a partner, I suppose.”

      Vicky cringed that her mother would suggest possible men to take along. “I don’t need a partner to take me. I attended lots of parties in the UK on my own.”

      “That was work. This is social,” Claire insisted. “And you do have to dance with somebody.”

      Marge bowed to an imaginary figure. “This dance? Delighted.” She whirled round the store, jerking her elbows in and out. “This is the Charleston, right?”

      Vicky laughed. “I think you need to look up the moves before Friday.”

      Mr. Pug ran over to Marge and circled her, barking. Marge leaned down to pick him up and twirled with him, humming a waltz.

      Then she froze mid-dance and focused on Vicky. “You need that hat.”

      “What hat?” Vicky asked.

      “Ms. Tennings has a friend who is a hat designer. She showed me some pictures last week and there was a hat in there just perfect for your profile.”

      Marge looked at Ms. Tennings. “Too bad you don’t have the album on you now. But wait. It may be on her website, right?”

      Marge put Mr. Pug down and pulled out her cell phone. She swiped across the screen.

      Mr. Pug stared up at her as if he wanted to know what she was so busy with all of a sudden.

      Vicky was still puzzled by her earlier remark. “My profile? What about that?”

      “It’s mysterious,” Marge said in an exaggerated whisper.

      And Ms. Tennings added, “With one of my friend’s creations you will be the party’s sensation.”

      Vicky took a step back. “I don’t want to stand out.”

      “Nonsense,” Ms. Tennings said, “you need a night off without worries.”

      And Marge added, “Leave it all to me. I’ll get you the hat.”

      Claire piped up, “And I’ll get you a date if you want me to.”

      Vicky hurried to say, “No thanks, Mom.”

      Claire folded her arms across her chest. “How are you going to get to the Rowland mansion then? On your bike in a tight dress?”

      “Very funny, Mom.” Vicky pursed her lips. A car of her own was on her list of things to consider, but right now her budget was too tight to allow for one. “I’ll call a cab. Simple as that.”

      “Here it is,” Marge said. “Have a look.” She held out her phone to Vicky.

      The hat was a close-fitting model of soft material with a butterfly attached to the right side. One wing lay on the hat, while the other stood out. The material used for that was very delicate, almost see-through, and it sparkled under the light.

      “Let me see it,” Claire urged.

      Vicky offered the phone to her.

      Claire hmm-ed. “You have a dress that can go with it. The coral one I saw in the photos you showed me of the midsummer gala?”

      Vicky was surprised her mother even remembered that.

      Ms. Tennings said, “All you need is a few long necklaces to complete the look.”

      “And elbow-length gloves,” Claire supplied.

      “I have some,” Vicky said, resigning herself to the inevitable. Once her mother or Marge got something in their heads, it had to happen. And now that they were all joining forces, it was impossible to resist.

      “How about your hair?” Ms. Tennings asked.

      Vicky looked from one to the other. “Enough already. I can do my own hair. And my makeup. I don’t like a fuss.”

      “All right then.” Marge clapped her hands together and studied Vicky with the adoration of a mother watching her daughter on prom night. “You just let me handle the hat. Friday night you’ll have the time of your life.”

Chapter Four

      In front of her long hallway mirror that was in an appropriate art deco style, Vicky adjusted her brand-new hat just a touch. The color was perfect with her coral dress. Two long necklaces that she had found on the bottom of her jewelry box completed the twenties’ look. For makeup she had focused on highlighting her