Poisoned Pins

“Isn’t this lovely of John and Eleanor?” I said as I propelled him to the porch.

He squeezed my hand. “And of you, my dear. I don’t believe we met at the reception. Are you on the faculty?”

“I waved at you from across the room, but it was so crowded, wasn’t it? Let’s do make an effort to have a nice little talk tonight, Your Honor”

The front door was open and we streamed into the house like starlings to their roost. Eleanor greeted her guests with professional aplomb, transferring coats and wraps to a waiting maid, welcoming us with warm smiles and gracious words. Most of us, anyway. “Judge Frankley, I’m so honored and delighted you were able to come tonight, you and…“ She dribbled to a halt. A tiny wrinkle appeared between her eyes, and a few more at the corners of her mouth.

“Claire,” I prompted her politely. “I think I see the bar, Judge Frankley. How about a martini?”

He rumbled happily as we continued into a living room right out of a glossy magazine spread. High ceilings, polished wood, antiques, dollies protecting table tops, a basket of pine cones next to the fireplace, an afghan draped over the arm of the sofa-the whole Americana bit.

“How long are you staying in Farberville?” I asked my abductee while we jostled for position in front of a table lined with bottles, a silver ice bucket with silver tongs, and crystal bowls of olives and citrus slices.

I missed his answer John Vanderson was frozen in the doorway to the dining room, regarding me with such panic that he appeared on the verge of an apoplectic attack. I smiled and wiggled my eyebrows at him. He stumbled out of sight. Was this any way for a proper host to act?

… little party at my hotel later,” the judge was saying. “A very select group, of course. I’ll be absolutely heartbroken if you refuse, my dear” He squeezed my hand more firmly. “I might have to hold you in contempt of court.”

“I wouldn’t dream of missing it,” I said. After a brief struggle, I disengaged my hand. “Excuse me, but I must have a word with Dean Vanderson. Why don’t you sit right there on that cozy loveseat, and when I come back, you can tell me all about your clever decisions.”

I slithered through the crowd and into the dining room, where the glare from silver-wear and crystal was enough to blind me momentarily. Dean Vanderson apparently had escaped through the door on the far side of the room, so I headed that way. The kitchen was a crowded, bustling place, and none of the staff responded to my question. I moved on, hoping I wouldn’t find myself at the top of the basement stairs-or the bottom of the attic stairs. The room beyond the kitchen proved to be nothing more horrifying than a sunroom with windows that looked out on a landscaped yard and a swimming pool.

I was about to try the next door when I saw Dean Vanderson in a corner, his head bowed and his shoulders drooping. I approached him as I would a wounded animal (although, of course, I value my extremities far too much to do such a thing), reasonably sure the kitchen staff would come to my aid if he flung himself on my admittedly alluring carotid artery. “We need to talk,” I said gently. “We can do it in private, or we can do it in front of your wife and your guests.”

“Shall we take a stroll by the pool, Mrs. Malloy?”

“I’m a competent swimmer,” I warned him as we went down stone steps to the yard. Azaleas and rhododendrons bloomed in studiously casual confusion, and honeysuckle vines swarmed over the crumbling brick walls of an old well. I’d read too many mysteries not to take a quick look into the shaft. It was less than ten feet deep, the ground appeared undisturbed, and Debbie A

“Were you on the guest list?” Dean Vanderson asked, having observed my detour with mild perplexity.

“No, and I’ll fade away unfed as soon as you answer my questions. I’m not sure exactly how you’re involved with the Kappa Theta Etas, but I have some fairly plausible guesses that I will share with the police, if necessary. I don’t know if they’ll stand up in court, but they will cause you a great deal of trouble.” I halted at the edge of the pool and made sure no bodies were adrift near the drain. All I saw was a magnolia leaf curled into the shape of a devilfish.

He pulled together two aluminum chairs and gestured for me to sit. “Indiscretion may have occurred, but it was in the past and has nothing to do with the girl’s death. I will admit I pushed you down this afternoon. Coming upon you so abruptly, I was startled and reacted without thinking. For that, I apologize most sincerely. I trust there was no serious damage?”

“I don’t want to talk about this afternoon, Dean Vanderson. I want to talk about Jean Hall.”

He shivered despite the sunshine, and pulled out a handkerchief to wipe his forehead. “Ah, yes, I hired her to run errands and do office chores. Her salary was in line with our tight budget, so as an added inducement, I arranged for her to sit in on some of the lectures in order to help her prepare for law school in the fall. Eleanor informed me of her accidental death. A terrible tragedy for her, for the driver, and for the sorority in general.”

“She was murdered,” I said bluntly.

“Do the police concur?” His pale eyelashes were almost invisible as he blinked at me. “Eleanor said they’d concluded it was an accident, caused by one of the pledges.”

“Who came here to hide.”

“Here? That’s impossible. If she came here after the accident, Eleanor would have counseled her to turn herself in, even have driven her to the police station, and surely would have mentioned it to me. I have a position to maintain in the academic community, Mrs. Malloy, and the sorority means everything to my wife. Neither of us would jeopardize our achievements by harboring a fugitive.”

“John!” Eleanor called from the door “What are you and Claire doing out there? In case you failed to notice, we have guests. Judge Frankley is asking for you.”

I smiled at her, and in a low voice said, “Where shall we discuss the negatives-here or on the loveseat with Judge Frankley?”

He regarded me for a moment, as if assessing my alleged swimming ability should I find myself in the proximity of the drain. “Here, I should think,” he said resignedly, then called to his wife, “I shall be there shortly, dear. Just tell everybody there’s been a small crisis at the law school that must be resolved before I leave in the morning.”

Eleanor didn’t look convinced; I could think of no reason why she should. However, after a minute she nodded and disappeared into the house to appease her guests with cocktails, canapés, and little white lies.

Dean Vanderson was struggling to radiate judicial dignity, but he looked more like a small boy on the verge of tears, his mouth puckered, his eyes downcast, his porcelain forehead beaded with sweat. Patting him on the shoulder, I said, “Come on, you can tell me. If you cooperate, I promise not to go to the police.”

“Jean approached me last fall. I’d seen her at sorority affairs”-he cringed at his ill-chosen word-”such as luncheons and teas, but we’d only made small talk. However, on this particular occasion, a football brunch at the house, Jean asked me if she might make an appointment to elicit my advice about law school. She came to my office several times, always with catalogs and questions, and I was more than happy to offer her what assistance I could.”

“And also at the Hideaway Haven?”

He gaped at me, then managed to swallow what must have been a most unpleasant taste. “You appear to be well informed, Mrs. Malloy.”

“Thank you,” I murmured, accepting his compliment with a modest nod-and wishing it were deserved.

“I will not deny that I am aware of an establishment known as the Hideaway Haven. Whatever may have taken place there can be best described as a series of perfectly harmless dalliances. My wife has become more and more involved with her volunteer work, her various clubs, and, of course, her Kappa Theta Eta responsibilities. Often she is exhausted by the time she arrives home. Eleanor is an attractive woman and an exemplary hostess, but when we manage to… retire together, she responds so distractedly that I suspect she’s mentally making out guest lists or contemplating menus. I find this frustrating.”