The Villa

to do besides think. And wait." She swiveled his chair around until he faced her. "Besides, I have gossip, and no one to share it with."
    "I don't like gossip."
    "Too bad." She pulled at his hand, pleased when he let her tug him to his feet. "My mother slept with David."
    "Ah, damn it, Sophie. Why do you tell me things like that?"
    She smiled a little, hooking her arm through his. "Because you can't spread gossip like that outside of the family, and I don't think it's an appropriate subject for Nonna and I to discuss over breakfast."
    "But it's appropriate to discuss with me over soup." He just couldn't understand the female mind. "How do you know, anyway?"
    "Really, Ty," she exclaimed as they started downstairs. "In the first place, I know Mama, and one look at her was enough. In the second, I saw the two of them together yesterday, and it showed."
    He didn't ask how it showed. She was too likely to tell him, and he wouldn't understand anyway. "How do you feel about it?"
    "I don't know. Part of me is delighted. Good for you, Mama! Another is standing back with her jaw on the ground thinking my mother isn't supposed to have sex. That's the immature part. I'm working on it."
    He stopped at the base of the steps, turned her. "You're a good daughter." With a casual tap of his finger, he tipped up her chin. "And not a half-bad person, as people go."
    "Oh, I can be bad. If he hurts her, David's going to find out just how bad I can be."
    "I'll hold him down, you skin him."
    "That's a deal." Her eyes changed as he continued to look into them. And her blood began to move. "Ty." She lifted a hand to his face as he leaned toward her.
    And the knock on the door had her cursing. "For God's sake! What is wrong with our timing? I want you to remember where we were. I really want you to remember it."
    "I think I've got it bookmarked." No less irritated by the interruption than she, he stalked to the door, yanked it open. And felt a clench in his gut.
    "Mr. MacMillan." Claremont stood beside Maguire in the chilly air. "Can we come in?"
    They moved into the living room where the atmosphere was masculine and messy. He hadn't thought to light a fire that morning, so the hearth was cold. A newspaper, several days old, was still piled on the coffee table. A paperback book peeked up from under it. Maguire couldn't quite make out the title.
    He didn't bother to pick up, as a lot of people did, she noted. And he didn't look as if he particularly wanted to sit down. But when he dropped into a chair, Sophia edged onto the arm of it beside him. And made them a unit.
    Claremont took out his notepad and set the rhythm. "You said you and Margaret Bowers dated."
    "No, I didn't. I said we went out a couple of times."
    "That's generally interpreted as dating."
    "I didn't interpret it that way. I interpreted it as we went out a couple of times."
    "You were supposed to have dinner with her on the night she died."
    "Yeah." There'd be no expression and no condemnation in Claremont's voice. But it still stung. "As I told you before, I got hung up here, called her somewhere around six. I got her machine and left a message that I couldn't make it."
    "Didn't give her much notice," Maguire put in.
    "No, I didn't."
    "Just what hung you up?"
    "Work."
    "At the villa?"
    "That's what I said the last time you asked. It still goes. Basically, I lost track of time and forgot about dinner until I got home."
    "You called her at six, so you still had an hour. You could've made it." Maguire tilted her head. "Or called and told her you'd be a bit late."
    "I could've. I didn't. I didn't feel like driving into the city. Is that a problem?"
    "Ms. Bowers died with the table still set for two. That's a problem."
    "Detective Claremont?" Sophia interrupted, her tone pleasant. "Ty isn't being specific because, I imagine, he feels it might embarrass me. We had a moment in the office in the villa that evening."
    "Sophia."
    "Ty," she said equably, "I believe the detectives will understand that you might not have been in the mood to drive down to San Francisco and have dinner with one woman when you'd very shortly before been rolling around on the office floor with another. We had a moment," she continued. "Unplanned and impromptu and very likely inappropriate, and were interrupted when Tyler's grandfather stepped into the room."
    To emphasize her point, she ran her fingers through Ty's hair. "Mr. MacMillan senior can verify that if you feel it necessary to ask him if we were indeed