A Quiche Before Dying

young.”
    Cecily nodded. “What about the exotic gal in the caftan and sandals?“
    “Desiree Loftus. I run into her every month or so someplace. She seems to have a lot of money from some mysterious source. Always indulging herself in weird causes and trying to preach them to anybody who’ll listen. Cryogenics. Miracle diets. Nudism. Stuff like that.“
    “What about the ladies we’re having tea with?“
    “Ruth Rogers is a fixture here. Been around forever. She used to baby-sit the kids sometimes when they were babies. Wouldn’t let me pay her. Said she loved little children. She used to be a nursery school teacher, she said, and missed it.“
    “What about her sister?“
    “Naomi’s lived here for a couple years. I haven’t seen much of her; she’s sick a lot of the time. She was taken off in an ambulance about six months ago—you can just see the end of their driveway from my kitchen window. She’s had a very hard life, I understand. They found each other through some lost relative bureau. I think they’re both widowed. Somebody told me Naomi has an impressive cookbook collection. Valuable antique ones, I mean. Or maybe it’s Ruth with the collection. I’m not sure.“
    “What about the teacher? Missy,“ Cecily asked. “Every time I look at her, she reminds me of somebody, and for the life of me, I can’t figure out who.“
    “John Cleese?”
    Cecily’s eyes opened very wide and she started laughing. “God! You’re right. I’m sorry you told me!“
    “Don’t worry. She knows it. I understand she can sometimes be persuaded to do the ‘Dead Parrot’ routine at parties. Missy’s a terrific person. She has a husband somewhere. She once said they hadn’t seen each other for ten years, but never got divorced because they both felt one marriage was more than enough. At least, that’s what she said. I believe she’s Catholic, so maybe that’s the real reason they didn’t divorce. She used to write textbooks for English classes, but writes romance novels now. She says it pays better.”
    Willard had laid his head on Cecily’s leg and was giving her longing looks. Cecily got up, gave him a treat from his plastic box on the counter, and let him out the kitchen door.
    “Still, if we can assume you and I and Shelley are innocent,“ she said, “it means one of those nice people killed Mrs. Pryce and nearly killed her maid,“ she said.
     
    “Come in, come in,“ Ruth Rogers said. She’d dressed for tea in a pale blue dress with flowing sleeves and the inevitable ruffles. She wore what Jane’s mother often called “daytime pearls.“ Jane was glad that her instinct had told her to dress up in a skirt and ruffled white blouse for Ruth’s tea party. “I’m so glad you could take time from your visit to come by. Mrs. Grant—may I call you Cecily? I feel I know you from your class project.“
    “Yes, please,“ Cecily replied.
    “And I’m Ruth. My sister and I have so much enjoyed reading the first chapters of the autobiographies. Especially yours. What a very interesting life you’ve had. Jane, aren’t you writing your life?“
    “No, I’ve invented one, but I haven’t let anybody but Missy see it.“
    “What a splendid idea! Naomi will be down in a moment. She’s feeling a little puny today and just woke from a nap. Would you like to see the garden? It’s hot out, but we wouldn’t be long.“
    “You and Mother go. I’d just be eaten up with jealousy,“ Jane said. “I’ve got my first garden, and between the pets and the bugs, it’s a pitiful thing.“
    “Organic pest control. That’s the key. I’ll send some articles home with you. Now, Cecily, I’ve got some daylilies I want you to see....”
    Their voices trailed off. Jane looked around the room. It was extremely feminine without being fussy. Most of the furniture was ornate but delicate antiques; little piecrust tables, a pair of Empire love seats with tapestry upholstery by the fireplace. Jane thought the color of the fabric was probably ashes of roses, a description that had always fascinated her. In front of the fireplace was a lovely peacock feather fan. Off the living room was a room that looked as if it had once been a porch, but was now enclosed to form a combination sun room/greenhouse. Light streamed in the windows that completely surrounded it. There were lush African violets on the windowsills and airy ferns hanging from the ceiling. The furniture was fresh white wicker with plump floral