Thirteen Diamonds

youthful appetites. Even Winston ate small pieces fed to him by Sandra and made it clear he wanted more. He gravely watched the children racing around but didn't take part in the noise-making. He was a cut above that sort of nonsense. As a doting great-grandmother, I predicted a bright future for him.
    The other four adults also drank beer, in addition to eating pizza, but Sandra just sipped hers, as she attended to her motherly duties.
    When the pace of eating slowed down, Mark said, “Lillian, Sandy filled me in a bit on what you're doing here. When you took advantage of me in the bar you didn't tell me you were investigating a murder.”
    “I didn't know whether it was a murder,” I said. “In fact I still don't.”
    “From what you've told me,” April said, “it looks very suspicious. Since I'm almost the only surviving member of Uncle Gerry's family, I owe it to him to get to the bottom of this. I'll help you in any way I can.”
    And because Uncle Gerry was very kind to you in his will, I thought. I thanked her.
    Mark said, “I was a little flip when you asked me whether I could recognize the lady who bought the lobster. I didn't take your question seriously. I've thought more about it; if I could get a good look at her and perhaps hear her speak, I might be able to identify her.”
    “I appreciate your honesty,” I said. “Maybe we can work something out when we get back home.” With a little help from my friends, I might be able to put together a case yet.
    “Have a police lineup,” April said. “Put those old ladies up against the wall. Excuse me, Mrs. Morgan, no offense intended. I don't consider you to be old.”
    “No offense taken.” Her eyesight must be poor. She showed more enthusiasm for this detective business than Sandra did. Too bad she lived in California.
    The conversation moved on to other subjects, including women's fashions. although Mark and Ron didn't seem to have much in common, they agreed that miniskirts were a good thing.
    “In addition to my other questionable skills,” Mark said, “I write a bit of verse once in a while, when a subject moves me enough. Does anybody know who Mary Quant is?”
    To my surprise, I was the only one with an answer. I said, “Mary Quant invented—or designed, if you will—the first miniskirts.”
    “Right! Anyway, I wrote a poem about her, which I will now recite.”
    Sandra was feeding Winston, apparently ignoring the conversation. I wondered how she was taking this, since April was the one wearing a miniskirt, not her. I tried to flash Mark a warning with my eyes, but he was looking at April.
    “Let's give three cheers for Mary Quant
    who knows just what the people want.
    What's that?  You don't remember her?
    Well, she created quite a stir,
    and controversy—yes, a binful,
    with fashions that some thought were sinful.
    'Twas nineteen-hundred-sixty-eight;
    her minis stormed the Golden Gate.
    For she designed the miniskirt,
    with which each coed soon was girt.
    It took America by storm
    and made us all feel really warm.
    It brought elation to the eye
    of every woman-loving guy,
    and was the swinging, swaying pal
    of every freedom-loving gal.
    For garterbelts and crinolines,
    sometimes held up by safety pins,
    had been replaced by pantyhose,
    or just a suntan, heaven knows.
    For guys the mini left revealed
    the wonders skirts had long concealed.
    For gals the mini marked the hour
    of breaking out and taking power.
    It helped to foster new relations
    between the sexes in all nations.
    It brought world peace; it was a star!
    What's that?  You think I've gone too far?
    Well, anyway, it doesn't hurt,
    so lets enjoy the miniskirt.”

CHAPTER 15
     
    Sandra was still asleep when I woke up the next morning, but Winston was standing in his crib, ready for action. I changed his diaper and fed him a bottle—I was getting pretty good at this—then took him outside in the morning sun.
    I had babysat with Winston again the night before. The four young people had gone out together and Sandra had come in late again. Now, Winston and I explored the parking lot of the motel while we let her sleep. After a while I took him back inside because I was hungry and wanted to give her a nudge.
    She was just waking up. She didn't seem to be her usual cheery self as she went into the bathroom. When she came out she said, “What's the matter with men?”
    I didn't have a quick answer for that one so I kept quiet. After some chitchat about Winston and