say.
As soon as our waiter came over, I ordered a glass of red wine to help me defrost. Peter ordered a beer. I could barely stand it: a cold beer on a night like this!
After the waiter hurried away, Peter looked at me with this little smile. ‘‘Go!’’ he said.
Well, I hate to have business interfere with a good meal. But this was definitely not the kind of place where you could put your agenda on hold until coffee and then, over three or four refills, sit around and discuss all the things you were here to discuss. Every table was occupied now, and a waiting line for dinner was already forming in the barroom. So I didn’t waste any time. ‘‘You knew that Mere
dith and Larry Shields—her director—were going together,
didn’t you?’’
‘‘Yeah, sure.’’
‘‘Well, did you also know they’d split up recently?’’
‘‘Didn’t I . . . you mean I didn’t tell you about that?’’
Peter asked, blushing.
‘‘No, you didn’t.’’
‘‘I don’t know what’s the matter with me,’’ he said, slap
ping his forehead with the palm of his hand. It’s a wonder I can remember my own name.’’
‘‘It’s understandable with all you’re going through,’’ I assured him. ‘‘Tell me what you know about the ar
gument.’’
‘‘Actually, I don’t know anything about it. All Mary Ann ever said was that Meredith and Larry had split up and
MURDER CAN RUIN YOUR LOOKS
57
that Meredith was in pretty bad shape over it. But Meredith made her swear not to tell anyone why they split—not even me. I think she—Meredith, that is—felt guilty about some
thing, but I’m not sure now if Mary Ann actually said that or I just had that impression. Anyway, they got back to
gether again very soon, so I guess whatever it was couldn’t have been that serious. Matter of fact, we all went out to dinner not too long after the fight, and they really seemed crazy about each other.’’
‘‘Maybe that’s why you didn’t say anything to me about it,’’ I offered.
‘‘Nice of you to give me an alibi,’’ Peter said, a sheepish grin on his handsome face. ‘‘Listen, do you mind if we order now? I’d like to go back to the hospital for a little while tonight.’’
We picked up the menus that were sitting in front of us on the table and quickly made our choices. Once we’d passed them on to the waiter, I was unable to contain the urge to make like big sister at least one more time. ‘‘Peter, I hope you won’t mind my saying this,’’ I began, realizing that, chances were, he would. ‘‘But do you think it’s wise spending all your time at the hospital this way? It’s got to be a terrible strain, and there’s really not much you can do there at this point. Going back to work might help take your mind off things.’’
‘‘ Nothing could take my mind off things,’’ Peter retorted sharply. Then he went on more evenly. ‘‘Look,’’ he said slowly, struggling to convey his feelings, ‘‘I have to be there; I just can’t stand being anywhere else. I’m even worried about something happening when I go home to sleep. Or when I take some time to go out and eat—like now. Do you understand what I’m saying?’’
‘‘Of course,’’ I muttered contritely. ‘‘I’ve got a big mouth; so forget what I said, huh? But you do have to eat, you know.’’
‘‘And I intend to,’’ Peter promised lightly.
‘‘There’s something else I wanted to ask you about.’’
‘‘What?’’
‘‘Did you by any chance see Mary Ann sometime on Monday?’’
‘‘No.’’ I guess he read the disappointment on my face.
‘‘Why? Is it important?’’
‘‘It might be. But don’t sweat it. There shouldn’t be any
58
Selma Eichler
problem coming up with someone who saw her that day. Or, if not, someone who saw Meredith.’’
‘‘What’s this all about?’’
‘‘You’re aware that the twins were both shot twice, aren’t you? The first time in
Gillian Doyle, Susan Leslie Liepitz