The woman looked at Rosemary, then at me. “Who are you? And why are the two of you carrying on outside my front door?”
Rosemary tipped her head my way. “Tilly, this is Georgiana Germaine. She’s a private detective. It’s been a month since Audrey died, and I thought the police might need a little extra help, so I’ve hired her to investigate.”
A gust of cool air swept past, and I seized the folds of my black velvet coat, a 1920s relic with puffed sleeves, pulling it snug against myself. “Would it be all right if I come in and ask you a few questions?”
Tilly frowned. “I’d rather you didn’t.”
It wasn’t the response I was hoping for, and I paused a moment, trying to come up with a different approach.
“I just need a few minutes of your time,” I said. “If your son is missing, I can help find him.”
She flung her hands in the air, exhaling a frustrated sigh. “Why does everyone assume my son is missing?”
“From what I understand, Logan told you and your husband he was going away with friends. The police spoke to those friends. They said no plans were ever made.”
“He didn’t tell me he was going away with friends. He told his father, Vaughn. I’m not sure what all the fuss is about. I’m sure he’s fine. He’s a resourceful kid, always has been.”
Spoken like a mother who would say anything to protect her son.
“Have you heard from Logan since he left?” I asked.
“No.”
“It’s been four days. Aren’t you worried?”
Tilly cast a quick look behind her, scanning the hall as though she was concerned someone might overhear our conversation, and then she looked at me. “When Logan gets overwhelmed, he takes off sometimes.”
I wasn’t buying it, but I decided to play along, for now.
“When he disappears like that, how long does he stay away?” I asked.
She shrugged. “Until he feels like coming home.”
Rosemary raised a brow, a silent gesture that told me she wasn’t fond of Tilly’s answer. “I must say, I’ve never known Logan to take off this way.”
Tilly cast Rosemary a sharp look, a silent warning to hold her tongue, but Rosemary wasn’t having it.
“I’d like you to explain to me why you won’t accept Georgiana’s help,” Rosemary said. “Your son is missing. Have you ever considered he might be in some kind of trouble?”
Tilly leaned back, crossing her arms. “I’m sure he’s fine.”
“But what if he isn’t fine?”
They squared off, and Tilly’s nostrils flared. She reached out, attempting to slam the door in our faces, but I jammed my boot inside just in time to stop her.
“How dare you!” Tilly fumed. “Even if I knew where my son was, I wouldn’t tell you. I’m sorry for what you’re going through, Rosemary. But I want you to leave. Both of you. Now.”
“I’ll leave as soon as you stop lying to me,” I said. “And don’t bother trying to defend yourself. Your breathing has changed, becoming faster and shallower the longer we talk, and your responses sound rehearsed. Ever since I introduced myself, you haven’t met my eyes once. All classic tells. You’re either hiding something from me or you’re lying to me. Or maybe a bit of both.”
Tilly glanced down the hallway again. This time, a man walked toward her, and she squeezed her eyes shut, as though wishing he hadn’t become aware of our conversation.
The man said a quick hello to Rosemary, and then he turned toward Tilly. “Everything okay here?”
“No, Vaughn,” Tilly said. “Everything is not okay. This woman is Georgiana Germany, and she?—”
“It’s Germaine,” I corrected.
“Germany, Germaine, whatever. Anyway, Rosemary hired her to investigate Audrey’s murder.”
