Anything Goes

wouldn’t divorce her and why he had the best motive to bump Uncle off.“
    “I know. Robert, we must get going, but there’s one more thing. Billy claims to have seen something important happen on the boat that day. And he was threatening to have a talk with someone about it.“
    “Blackmail.“
    “Exactly. Mimi said he didn’t know anything and was just pretending to be a tough guy. But when I prodded her some more, she admitted she’d seen him go down to the cabin while she was being hoisted onto the dinghy. She excused this by claiming he’d left his good shoes in the galley. But he never got his good shoes. And he claims he saw someone else go down there, too, but won’t tell Mimi who it was. Mimi doesn’t believe that part of his story and neither do I.“
    “But he could have seen something happen to Uncle Horatio,“ Robert said. “And more likely, Billy himself murdered him.“
    “I’ll tell you all the details later. Right now, we’d better get on to the Winslows’.”
     
    As they stood at the front door, Lily and Robert were even more miserable than they’d have normally been about having to spend an evening with these boring people. All they both wanted to do was sit quietly, privately, and chew over what Mimi had told Lily. Instead Robert sighed and reached for the lion’s head door knocker.
    There was a long pause before they heard footsteps and the click of a cane striking the marble floor inside. Major Winslow opened the door, pointedly glancing at his watch.
    “Nice timepiece, old boy,“ Robert said fatuously. “Come in,“ Winslow snapped.
    There were two other men in the sitting room. One of them was dreadful Cousin Claude. The other was a stranger.
    “Claude!“ Robert exclaimed. “You must be the batty driver who got my tux all dirty.”
    Claude lifted an eyebrow. “Perhaps that will encourage you to drive better in that great hog of an automobile of yours.“
    “Jealousy is most unbecoming,“ Robert said.
    “She’s not a hog, she’s a steamship. The queen of the line. I think, in fact, she should have a name. ‘Queenie’ would be so vulgar. Maybe ‘Countess’ would be better. ‘Countess Duesenberg’ has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”
    Claude was so stuffy that this trivial talk made him furious. Before he could go from red to purple in the face, Lily stepped in. “How is your mother, Claude?“ she said pleasantly. “Still needlepointing?“
    “She just finished a petit point set of dining room chair seats for the bishop’s dining room,“ he said, glaring over his shoulder at Robert, who was being introduced to the other guest. “Museum quality, of course.“
    “Of course,“ Lily said mildly.
    She turned away as Major Winslow approached her with his other guest in tow. “Miss Brewster, this is Mr. Kessler, the editor of the Voorburg Times.”
    Kessler was a stubby little man of about fifty with mouse-brown hair grown long and sweeping over his bald head. He was an inch or two shorter than Lily and shook her hand with his small, short-fingered one. Unlike the other men, he wasn’t in a tux, but wore a blue suit.
    “We’ve met your reporter, Jack Summer,“ Lily said.
    “He’s a good lad. Might turn into a good reporter someday,“ Mr. Kessler said in a gravelly voice. “It’s nice to have met you, Miss Brewster. I don’t mean to be rude, but I must be getting along.“
    “You’re not dining with us?”
    He stared at her for a moment with obvious surprise and said, “No, I just came to have a word with Major Winslow.”
    He was left to see himself out, which Lily thought uncommonly rude.
    “Where are Mrs. Winslow and Sissy?“ she asked. “They’re fixing dinner,“ Major Winslow replied. “They’ve found they enjoy cooking.“
    “More important,“ Robert said, “what is Claude doing here?“
    “Your cousin is a friend of Sissy’s.“ Major Winslow loaded his reply to this blunt question with all the haughtiness of many generations of gentlemen.
    “Should I help in the kitchen?“ Lily said, knowing full well this was an empty offer. She had no idea on earth how to function in a kitchen.
    Just then, Mrs. Winslow entered the room and greeted them all. The underarms of her dress were sweaty and she’d doubtless be appalled if she knew that. “Dinner is almost ready. “Would anyone like a glass of wine before we sit down to table?“
    “I would, very much, thank you,“ Robert said. “In fact, I’ll be ‘mother’ if