lemonade.
“It does seem strange,” Jessie said at last. “It’s almost as if Tricia’s hiding something.”
“That’s not all that’s strange,” said Henry, who was staring at the last entry in Alice’s appointment book.
Benny was swirling the ice cubes in his glass. “What is it, Henry?” he asked.
“There’s something weird about this last entry.”
“What’s weird about it, Henry?” Benny wanted to know. “Alice bought shoes that didn’t fit. You said that yourself the other day.”
“I said that then. Now I’m not so sure.”
“What are you thinking, Henry?” Violet wondered.
“Alice didn’t write ‘shoes won’t fit’—she wrote ‘shoe won’t fit.’ ”
Jessie inched her chair closer. “You’re right,” she said, glancing at the appointment book. “It does say shoe—not shoes.” She looked from Henry to the entry and back again. “That is a bit weird.”
Henry said, “Maybe this entry has nothing to do with returning a pair of shoes.”
“What else could it mean?” Violet wanted to know.
Henry paused for a moment to sort out his thoughts. “What if Alice was talking about the butler’s shoe?”
Benny blinked in surprise. “Alice had a butler?”
“No, no.” Henry smiled a little at this. “I’m talking about Lady Chadwick’s butler.”
“What are you saying, Henry?” Jessie asked.
“What if Alice noticed the mistake in the play?” said Henry. “Maybe she realized the butler’s shoe wouldn’t fit a mold that was made in dried mud.”
“You think Alice wanted P.J.—Tricia—to make a change to the script?” Violet asked, after a moment’s thought.
“I’m only guessing,” said Henry. “But I think it’s possible.”
“If you’re right,” Jessie concluded, “then Alice must’ve read Tricia’s play.”
Violet thought about this. “Maybe Alice was giving her a few pointers.”
“Could be,” said Henry. “But why would Tricia keep it a secret? That’s the part I don’t get.”
Violet nodded. “There’s something here we’re not understanding.”
“I don’t know what to make of it either,” said Jessie. “Unless …”
“Unless what?” asked Benny.
Jessie’s mind was racing. “I keep thinking about Lady Chadwick’s hat.”
“That it was hanging from the chandelier in the lobby?” said Benny. “Is that what you mean, Jessie?”
“No, it’s not that.”
“What then?” asked Henry.
“I’m talking about the yellow marigolds,” said Jessie. “Don’t you think it’s odd Tricia didn’t remember what kind of flowers Lady Chadwick was wearing?”
Benny nodded. “She called them carnations.”
“Exactly,” said Jessie. “And yet, she underlined ‘yellow marigolds’ in the script. At least, that’s what Fern said.”
Henry was curious. “Where are you going with this, Jessie?”
“Yellow marigolds were Alice’s favorite flower,” Jessie reminded them, hoping they would understand what she was driving at. Seeing their puzzled faces, she added, “Alice always put yellow marigolds in her plays.”
“You think it’s more than just a coincidence?” Violet wondered. “That Tricia put yellow marigolds in her play, too, I mean.”
Jessie nodded her head slowly. “I think it’s a lot more than just a coincidence.”
“Back up a minute, Jessie,” Henry put in. “Are you saying Alice noticed a mistake—in her own play?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” Jessie told him. “It’s possible she wanted to make the change before Tricia typed up the last act.”
Violet’s eyes widened. “You really think Alice Duncan wrote Lady Chadwick’s Riddle? ”
“If she did … that means—” began Benny.
Henry cut in. “It means Tricia put her name on Alice’s play.”
“Oh!” Violet put her hand over her mouth. “You don’t really think Tricia would do something so terrible, do you?”
“I don’t want to believe it, Violet,” said Jessie. “But it’s a pretty strong case
Learning to Kill: Stories