She parked Old Blue and squinted down the bluff into the sun. It had started its descent in the west, and warmth radiated from the retaining walls lining the cul-de-sac below the mansion.
The wake had started an hour ago. With this heat, Mary Pat’s guests would be inside, at least until night fell. Joanna’s plan was to slip into the house and melt into the party. She’d keep an eye on Mary Pat and confront her, if necessary.
She should be able to climb the front steps and enter the back yard through the side gate without running into anyone. She knew where the latch was now, and with the help of the screwdriver she’d had the foresight to tuck into her bag, getting past the garden fence would be easier than last time.
As she’d anticipated, the front steps were clear, and the house was shut tight against the sun, with shades lowered and windows closed. A sprinkler swished nearby. Joanna followed the path to the side gate.
“Looking for Mary Pat?”
Joanna sucked in her breath. “What?”
Carol, the neighbor, leaned over her porch railing in what looked like another brand new easy-breathe tank top with a coordinating blouse open over it. She held a tumbler with ice cubes and clear liquid that might have been water—or a vodka tonic. “You’re late to the party. Not that she has any business having guests, not with everyone dropping dead left and right.”
“I’m not here for that. I, well, I need to drop something off for Mary Pat,” Joanna lied. “I don’t want to interrupt her.”
“About the investigation?”
“No,” Joanna said. “Why?”
The neighbor shrugged. “You might have better luck knocking on the back door. Mary Pat said they were screening a movie in the basement. Come this way—I can help you.”
Joanna took the path of stepping stones to the neighbor’s porch. Carol held the front door open. Her eyes were bloodshot, and a smear of concealer now only partially covered the beauty mark on her cheekbone next to her eye. Definitely vodka tonic, Joanna thought.
“We’ll go through to my yard. We have a neighbor gate.”
Carol’s house was as spare and as anonymously assembled as her wardrobe. It looked as if she hardly lived there. The sprinkler Joanna had heard earlier rained an arc over her back lawn.
Carol turned off the faucet and pointed to a gate. “Take that. It’s unlatched on her side.”
Joanna thanked her and crossed the damp lawn to the gate. As Carol had predicted, it opened easily. From the glasses here and there and chairs pulled into the shade, the Strodens’ yard had hosted a reception, but it was empty of people now. A cherry red shawl—Callie Rampton’s?—draped over one chair. Joanna picked it up. No use letting good silk get bleached by the sun.
Someone called her name. Joanna jumped in surprise. She didn’t see anyone.
“Up here.” Mary Pat leaned out her bedroom window. “I was just opening windows to get a cross breeze going. Wait. I’ll be right down.”
So much for melting into the party.
A moment later, Mary Pat’s tiny frame filled the sliver she’d opened the French doors. “Honey? What are you doing here?”
Joanna put on her friendliest smile. “I hoped—well, I hoped you would let me join you this evening. After everything we’ve been through, it didn’t feel right, or even respectful, not to come to say goodbye to your brother. Maybe I stay for just half an hour? For closure?” Apple would have appreciated that last bit.
Mary Pat’s face softened. “Of course. Come in. I should have invited you in the first place, but I didn’t think you’d want to hang out with a bunch of fogeys talking about the olden days.” She opened the door further. “Just trying to keep the house cool,” she explained and secured the door behind them.
Joanna was keenly aware she could be shut in with a murderer. “Where are the rest of the guests? I thought the house would be full of people.” Instead, it was suspiciously calm. No caterers, no spread of hors d’oeuvre, no music.
“I couldn’t bear having a large party, so I invited only the people closest to Bradley. After all these years, there aren’t many of us left.”
Joanna was on high alert. “Carol—the neighbor—said you were screening a movie.”
“Oh, yes. Bradley loved to watch the movies he’d worked on. We have quite a collection. But today we have something special.” Her smile widened. “You’re going to love it. Come downstairs.”
The house grew cooler as they passed through the central hall, into the kitchen, and down the stairs to the basement.
“Hello!” Callie pushed up her pair of Edith Head glasses and hugged Joanna. “Oh, you brought my shawl. Would you like a drink?”
“Yes, please.” Joanna scanned the room. It was only Callie, Mary Pat, and Howard. No one else.
“Nice to see you again,” Howard said. “Let me make something for you.” He patted his comfortable belly, as if he were his own lucky Buddha.
She saw a bottle of Beefeater gin at Howard’s elbow. “Can you make me a martini?”
“Abracadabra, you’re a martini.” He laughed as if he’d invented the joke. Joanna smiled patiently. “Sorry. You bet I can make a martini. They didn’t call me the best boy for nothing.” Ice cubes clinked into a crystal pitcher. “I brought us a little surprise, too. In a film can.” He chuckled again and tipped the gin bottle over the ice.
The screening room embraced the classic red-velvet-drapes-and-tassels scheme. Red velvet upholstered the walls in undulating curves punctuated with pocket lights. The seats—about ten of them—were low-slung 1950s models with black velvet cushions.
Joanna took in the skimpy group. If Mary Pat were the murderer, one of them could be her next victim. “Are you expecting more guests?”
“No. There’s a bigger party for Bradley at Fuller’s this weekend,” Mary Pat said.
“Not many of us left anymore,” Callie added. “Would you like a stamp? I had some made up special for today. Look.”
Joanna turned the wooden block in her hand and read the backwards letters carved into rubber. “Starlit Wonder.”
“It’s the lettering from the opening credits. You got me thinking about it again. I had a good time laying it out.”
“You’ll see,” Howard said and handed her a Deco crystal coupe with a square-cut stem. Say what you want about Stroden, the man had taste, right down to his barware.
“Starlit Wonder,” Joanna said. “That’s what you brought, isn’t it? The actual film.”
Howard grinned. “How’s that martini?”
She sipped. Ice and juniper and a kick of alcohol. Her gaze wandered toward the windows to the back yard where the garden shed lay, then back to Howard. “Perfect.”
“Hee hee hee,” chuckled Howard. “I know. And, yes, I brought Starlit Wonder. You all haven’t seen it since the screening, have you?”
“I’ve never seen it,” Mary Pat said.
“Oh, I’m so excited,” Callie said. “I can’t wait.”
Martini in hand, Joanna glanced over the dim room and velvet-draped screen. “Neither can I.”