Thirteen Diamonds

so I told her that I would see her at my champagne hour.
     
                       *    *    *
     
    Fortunately, I was able to get them all to come. I knew Ida well enough, through our dogs, to simply say, “Come on over.” I told Harriet that Tess would be there and I told Ellen that I was gathering some of the members of the bridge club together.
    They all arrived within five minutes of each other, clothed in their Sunday best. Actually, their evening best since dinners in the dining room were dressy occasions at Silver Acres. Tess arrived first and helped me put out a tray of cookies, champagne glasses and napkins.
    Then came Harriet, worried because she thought she might be too early. Ellen arrived next, outwardly cheerful and relaxed, just as she had appeared on the croquet course, even when she was losing. I need to cultivate a facade like that.
    Dora came into the apartment with her quick bird-like movements and hoped she wasn't late. She appeared to be fully recovered from the trauma of the morning.  And then Ida swept in as if she owned the place, pausing only momentarily when she saw that Harriet was there.
    When they had all taken seats I got out the champagne bottle and opened it. I poured a glass for each person, which Tess distributed, and then gave a toast. “I propose that we drink to the bridge club, to its members and to one member, in particular, who has recently left us, but who will remain in our hearts.”
    When we had each sipped the champagne I said, “As you know, I have done some looking into Gerald's death. I have come to the conclusion that it was an accident. I can understand why none of you has admitted putting the lobster in the casserole, but it wasn't your fault. You can all relax because I won't be doing any more nosing around here.”
    “Not lobster, crab,” Ida said. “The fact remains that somebody did put crab in the casserole, whether or not she intended to hurt Gerald. And I would like to go on record as saying that I was not the one who did it. I did not put the crab in the casserole.”
    “Me, neither,” Harriet said, quickly. Assuming the forceful tone of Ida and looking straight at her, she repeated, “I did not put crab in the casserole.”
    Ellen smiled and mimicked the others: “I did not put crab in the casserole.”
    Dora looked around the room and said, “I guess I'm the only suspect who hasn't pleaded not guilty, so here goes. “I did not put crab in the casserole.”
    These spontaneous statements brought chuckles, but I could see that Ida was not smiling. I said, “Well, I guess that takes care of that. It must have been an act of God.  Let's go to dinner.”
    A telephone rang. I automatically started for the den where my phone was located, even though the sound didn't seem to be coming from there.
    “It's mine,” Ellen said, pulling a cellular phone out of her purse. “I'm sorry; my sister is always calling me.”
    I mentally cursed people with cell phones who took calls, no matter where they happened to be. I only gave out my phone number to a few people and warned them not to call me on it except in case of dire emergency, such as an imminent collision of earth with an asteroid.
    Fortunately, not many of us old dames had cellular phones yet. Ellen and I were the only ones I knew of. And the only other time I had seen Ellen use her phone was once at the bridge club. Or at least I remembered seeing her punching a number. I didn't think she had actually talked to anybody because the fire alarm had gone off about then.  It had happened the day of Gerald's death.
    Ellen didn't talk long and we all trooped out the door and over to the dining room. Tess and I lagged slightly behind the others. As we walked across a wooden footbridge that goes over the local creek, Tess said, “What do you think?”
    “Either we're chasing the wrong fox or one of them is a damned good liar.”

CHAPTER 12
     
    “Gogi, I can't just up and leave on a moment's notice. What would I do with Winston?”
    “Bring him along. You started flying when you were his age. In fact, thanks to your father's love for historical sites, you were a frequent flyer by the time you were two.”
    “Do you know how much stuff I would have to pack?”
    “Well, judging from the amount of stuff you cram into your little car just for going the few miles from your place to the farm, I can imagine. But you'll just have to pare it down. For example, forget the car seat.