“I already told you,” Vero answered in a cagey tone.
I opened cabinets and cupboards, moving through the kitchen at a furious pace. I checked the log of incoming and outgoing calls from her house phone. No calls to or from Riley or Max’s phone numbers.
“I don’t know who youthinkyou are, but you definitely aren’t the person who made that anonymous call about my affair.”
“What makes you so sure?” Vero asked as I tossed aside notepads and grocery lists.
“Because no one knew about my relationship with Steven except for Steven and me, and I don’t know you.”
“Youdon’t,” Vero said, “but I knew your husband, and he was onto you.”
“If you knew him, prove it.”
“Fine.”
“Are you crazy?” I hissed. “We don’t know anything about Gilford Dupree that wasn’t already in the news!”
Vero spoke slowly, over-enunciating every word. “I will prove it to you by telling you something that wasnotin the news.”
Oh, god.She was talking to me. I ran through the first floor, my eyes skipping fast over every surface of the house, frantic for any scrap of information about Penny’s husband.
“They have a piano,” I blurted.
“Gilford loved the piano,” Vero repeated.
Penny barked out a laugh. “Hehatedthe piano! He didn’t speak to me for a month after I bought the damn thing. He made me wait until he left the house to practice it.”
“That’s what he told you!” Vero said. “But whenwewere together, helovedthe piano. He loved it so much, he listened to Rachmaninoffin the bedroom!”
The bedroom!I tore up the stairs, checking behind every door, searching for Penny’s room.
“Well?” Penny prodded, clearly growing impatient when Vero was slow to produce another kernel of proof.
I scrambled into the last room at the end of the hall and flipped on the light. A figure leapt off the top of the highboy dresser. It hurled toward my face with a vicious hiss.
I screamed.
Vero screamed.
Penny Dupree’s cat screamed. I grabbed it by the scruff and held it away from me before it could scratch my face off.
“What’s wrong?” Penny sounded shaken.
“Nothing’s wrong! I’m just trying to think! This isn’t easy, you know!”
“They have a cat,” I cried as the tabby’s hind legs spun like tiny circular saws. “It’s orange.” I held it up to check its parts, unsure if it was a boy or a girl. Its collar wasn’t much help. “Its name is Mozart.”
“Not helping,” Vero whispered.
“What?” Penny asked.
“Nothing,” Vero snapped. “I must be suffering from post-traumatic amnesia. Gilbert’s loss devastated me. Remembering him is very painful.”
“Gilford.”
“What about him?”
“My husband’snamewasGilford!”
