“Did your husband go to those parties? “Cindy couldn’t help asking.
“Of course he did,” Myrtle hissed. “He’s a man, isn’t he? You think any of them can resist easy booze and flesh?
Cindy breathed deeply and paused. She wondered if the Senator was in Petrovich’s pocket? Did Petrovich have something on him? Was he involved with one of the women? If it were made public it could ruin his career. It could also have a direct bearing on the murder.
“I’m sorry,” Cindy said.
“What are you sorry for?” Myrtle snarled. “It’s the way of the world. I got used to it. A strong woman can get used to anything. But one thing I’ll never get used to, is losing a daughter. No mother can.”
“Of course not,” said Cindy.
“And I’m going to find her,” Myrtle insisted, “you’ll see.
“Find her, or her killer?” asked Cindy quietly.
“Same thing,” Myrtle said, “don’t hold me to the fine points.”
Then, Myrtle lifted a large, green pocket book she had with her, and spilled the contents out onto the table.
“Look at this,” she said.
Little photos spilled out, bracelets, mementos, seashells and two amethyst stones.
“These all belonged to Tiffany. They’re pictures of her when she was little and growing up. They’re things that were important to her. I’m trying to find someone who recognizes them or has a matching piece. Tiffany’s helping me, she’s telling me what to do.”
Both Myrtle’s words and the mess sprawled on the table seemed like the product of a deranged mind.
“I’m not crazy, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Myrtle said heatedly. “I’m smarter than all of you. These pieces have my daughter’s energy. Tiffany loved these amethyst stones. I gave her four and there are only two here. The one who has the other two is the one who stole her soul.”
“What about the necklace?” asked Cindy.
Myrtle leaned closer, “Nobody will find it. I’m sure they completely ripped it apart.”
“How are you going to find the lost stones?” Cindy asked.
“By looking,” Myrtle said. “I take these mementos, walk up and down and let them lead me wherever they do.”
Cindy was momentarily overcome with sadness for her. Tremendous grief and shock could derail anyone.
Then Myrtle lifted her arm and called for the Waiter.
“Bring us both the lunch special,” she demanded.
Cindy wasn’t the least bit hungry.
“Their soup du jour is magnificent,” Myrtle said, suddenly turning into like an elegant, French lady.
For a moment, Cindy was flabbergasted, had no idea how to proceed.
Myrtle took care of that for her. She threw her head back, narrowed her eyes and looked at Cindy keenly, all business now.
“I heard they’ve arrested a guy named Frances,” Myrtle started, seemingly clear as day.
“Yes, they have,” Cindy said. “Do you know him?”
“Of course I know him,” Myrtle said. “I’ve known him for years. He’s an old friend of Tiffany’s. He meant nothing to Tiffany. I told you the one to investigate was her ex-boyfriend Shane.”
“I spoke with Shane,” said Cindy. “He’s engaged to someone and has a perfect alibi, was at a party where lots of people saw him.”
Myrtle grimaced. “That means nothing.”
“No, it means a great deal, “said Cindy. “Shane was nowhere around when the event happened.”
Myrtle leaned closer. “You don’t have to call it an event. It was bloodshed,” her teeth gritted, and she looked like an animal on the loose. “Are you going to find the one who did it?”
“Yes, I will,” said Cindy, with such determination that Myrtle suddenly calmed down.
“Why in the world did they arrest Frances, though?” Myrtle went on, disconcerted.
The waiter brought two bowls of delicious cream and spinach soup with tiny croissants besides them.
Myrtle dug in and drank it with ferocity.
Cindy couldn’t even take a bite.
“So, why did they arrest Frances?” Myrtle asked again, her mouth full of food.
“You haven’t heard what they’re saying about it?” Cindy asked gingerly, not wanting to further inflame her.
Myrtle stopped eating and stared at her, angry.
“I wouldn’t be asking you if I knew, would I?”
“Frances admitted that he and Tiffany were having an affair when she was murdered.”
Myrtle stared at Cindy as if she’d landed from another planet.
“What are you talking about?”
“The two of them were sleeping together,” Cindy repeated carefully, giving it time to sink in.
“Tiffany and Frances?”
“Yes.”
“While Tiffany was engaged to Tad?” Myrtle looked horrified. “Ridiculous, it’s an obvious lie.”
“It doesn’t look like a lie,” Cindy said slowly.
“And a disgusting lie at that,” Myrtle threw down her spoon on the table. “It must have been Tad’s father who spread this rumor.”
“Why Tad’s father?” Cindy quickly asked.