I nodded distractedly, clutching the case while searching through the crowd for Thomas. I assumed he’d be with Jayne, but I couldn’t find her, either. Needing to escape for a moment to think, I walked around the house to the front door to avoid the caterers in the kitchen.
As I climbed the steps of the piazza, I nearly choked on the saturated scent of Vanilla Musk, the overpowering aroma descending as suddenly as a storm cloud. I began walking toward the door, but I stopped suddenly when I kicked something soft. I knew before I bent to pick it up that I would find Adrienne’s pillow. I studied the fine stitching that connected the ruffle to the body of the pillow, recalling Veronica saying how Adrienne had wanted to be a fashion designer. I clutched the pillow to my chest, feeling an overwhelming sadness.
“What are you trying to tell me?” I whispered. I paused expectantly, waiting for a reply that wouldn’t come.
I considered sitting in one of the rocking chairs for a few moments while the party stragglers were being rounded up by my mother to take their seats for the gift opening, but I was afraid that if I did, I’d never want to leave. I just needed a few moments of peace and quiet to get my thoughts together.
I heard arguing as soon as I opened the front door, the voices coming from the dining room. I recognized Veronica’s voice, although I’d never heard it raised before.
“You should have told me, Michael! Or at least given it to Detective Riley. I don’t care how innocent you are; it looks really bad, don’t you think? Especially since you were planning to throw it away!”
As I approached them, I hid the case behind Adrienne’s pillow. They both looked up when they saw me. I didn’t pretend that I hadn’t overheard them. “I was just wondering the same thing, Michael. What were you doing with the Laurie Anderson CD?”
His face looked like a road map of mottled red and white. “I already told Veronica; how many times do I have to repeat it? It was my CD and Adrienne borrowed it. I happen to like Laurie Anderson—her stuff is really different. When the police returned the CD player in the box, I took the CD back. It’s not like they hadn’t already seen it.”
“That doesn’t explain why you didn’t tell Detective Riley when we were searching for the CD.” Veronica seemed close to tears.
Michael took a deep breath. With a lowered voice and clear and concise words, as if speaking to a kindergartner, he said, “Because the CD belonged to me. I didn’t tell Thomas because I knew the CD wasn’t important or relevant to the case. And if you want to know, I’m a little embarrassed for people to know that it was mine.”
With a low, shaky voice I’d never heard before, Veronica said, “But what about Adrienne’s phone calls, Michael? She said it was urgent that she speak to me. And I refuse to believe that you have no idea what it was about!”
Michael let out a groan of frustration, then glanced at his watch. “Perfect timing. I have to go pick up the girls and take them to the movie theater. I’m considering this conversation closed.” He brushed past me, and I felt the radiating heat of his body as he passed.
The front door slammed, but I didn’t turn around. I was too focused on Veronica and how she looked as if a strong wind might blow her over. “Do you need to sit down? Can I get you something to drink?”
She shook her head. “No. I just need some time to think.”
I pulled two chairs from the dining room table and ordered her to sit while I took the seat next to her. “Is there something you haven’t told me? Something I should know?”
Veronica stared down at her hands, her fingers looking pale and small splayed on the dark wood of the table. “Yes,” she said, her voice so quiet, I had to lean close to hear her. “When I said that Adrienne was trying to reach me, to tell me something important, there was one detail I left out.”
I didn’t move or prompt her, not wanting her to reconsider. I watched as her throat worked, forcing out the words.
“In those phone calls to me before she died”—Veronica took a deep, shuddering breath—“she told me that what she needed to tell me was about Michael.” Her voice caught.
I sat back. “Why didn’t you tell this to the police?”
The tortured expression on her face told me that she’d run through this over and over again since her sister’s death. “Because I knew Michael didn’t have anything to do with Adrienne’s death. He was with me when she was killed, so I had no doubts. I didn’t want to cause him any needless trouble.”
“Until now,” I said matter-of-factly. “Because we found the missing CD in his things.”
Her eyes met mine, our thoughts running in tandem. “I’m sorry, Veronica. I don’t know what any of this means, but we need to tell Detective Riley.”
“I’ll tell him,” she said, her voice soft but laced with steel. “But I want Michael to be with me. As soon as he gets back from dropping off the girls, we’ll go talk with Thomas.” Her gaze fell on the pillow, which I’d placed next to the CD on the table. “Why is that here?”
“That’s a good question. I tripped on it on the front porch.”
Veronica picked up the pillow and began playing with the fringe. “I just wish I knew what she was trying to tell us.”
“Me, too.”
A loud gong sounded—Rebecca’s idea—announcing the gift-opening portion of the evening, and letting everyone know it was time to find a seat. We left the pillow on the table but stuck the CD in a drawer in the breakfront for safekeeping as we hurried outside. I walked toward the throne to assume my position on a tiny footstool at Rebecca’s feet, where I would be in charge of listing the gifts and the gift givers for future thank-you notes, grateful to be on the other side of Rebecca so I wouldn’t have to look at Marc. I’d already set up my worksheet, and my laptop was waiting by the stool. At least there was one thing about the party I could get excited about.