“As a matter of fact, I remembered the dog,” Gemma answered equably. “It was seeing him again yesterday that clinched it.” She smiled, examining her fingertips, and he wondered who was taking the mickey from whom.
They rode the rest of the way to Greenwich in silence, but he couldn’t quite shake the feeling that Gemma was holding something out on him.
JO LOWELL ANSWERED HER DOOR BEFORE Kincaid had lifted his finger from the bell, and at the sight of them her face fell. “I was just on my way out. I’m late for a meeting with a client. The children were dreadful this morning—” She stopped. “Never mind. What can I do for you?”
She was dressed to go out, in crisp trousers and a white silk blouse. A dusting of makeup minimized her freckles, her dark auburn hair was pulled back with a gold slide, and she wore a pair of simple topaz earrings. For the first time Kincaid realized how attractive she could be.
“It won’t take a minute,” he apologized, and she stepped back, ushering them in with good grace.
“Is this all right?” she asked, indicating the dining room.
The vase of yellow sunflowers still stood on the table in the pleasant room, and as they sat, Kincaid thought of Annabelle here, perhaps laughing at something someone said.
“We’ll get right to the point, Mrs. Lowell. We’ve just had a chat with Reg Mortimer, and he admits that he and Annabelle had a row.”
Had he imagined the swiftly controlled spasm of tension in Jo Lowell’s mouth? “Are you sure your sister didn’t tell you what the row was about?”
“No … I … What did Reg say?”
“That Annabelle was angry because she thought you were flirting with him.”
For a moment, Jo stared, her mouth open; then she let out a peal of laughter. “Reg said
“I take it you don’t agree?” Kincaid asked.
“In his dreams.” Jo subsided into slightly hysterical snickers. “I bloodied his nose once too often when we were kids, the little sod. I could kill him!” She clapped her hand over her mouth. “I didn’t mean—”
“I know you didn’t. But could Annabelle have thought there was something going on between you and Reg? He says she was really narked about something.”
“The bastard. It wasn’t Annabelle who was angry—not in the beginning. He was the one furious with her.”
“Why didn’t you tell us this before?” Kincaid edged the vase of sunflowers over a bit so that he could see her across the table.
Jo sat back, sliding her hands into her lap, but not before he’d seen how tightly they were clenched. He was suddenly aware of her perfume, a fresh, grassy scent, and of the rising and falling of her chest in the warm, still room. “You knew all the time what the row was about, didn’t you, Jo? Why didn’t you tell us? And why did Reg lie about it twice?”
He waited, sensing Gemma beside him, but knowing she wouldn’t break the tension, wouldn’t give Jo an out.
“I didn’t know, when you first asked me, that Annabelle was dead,” Jo whispered at last, without taking her eyes from her clenched hands. “And then I was ashamed.”
“You were ashamed?” Gemma prompted her gently. “Was it something you said?”
Jo shook her head, and the tears that had gathered on her lower lashes spilled over, streaking her cheeks. She didn’t lift a hand to wipe them away. “It was Harry. You have to understand: It was Martin who poisoned him against Annabelle. I daresay she deserved it, but she adored Harry from the moment he was born, and I think it broke her heart.”
Leaning forward, Gemma reached out as if to touch her. “Jo, start from the beginning. Tell us what happened.”
“I don’t want you to think badly of Annabelle.” Jo lifted a curled fist to her breast in a pleading gesture.
“We won’t,” Gemma promised, without taking her eyes from Jo’s, and Kincaid marveled, as he always did, at her ability to make an emotional link with a stranger.
Jo took a shaky breath and exhaled on a sigh, blinking back her tears. “It started when Sarah was a baby—before that, really. Martin and I had been having problems—I’d even thought about leaving him—and then Mummy got sick. And I got pregnant.” Looking away, she shook her head and continued softly, “It was a stupid thing to do, crazy even, but it was like I couldn’t help myself, I couldn’t fight this urge.… I even cheated on my birth control.” She looked back at them, her lips curving in a small smile. “It didn’t help things with Martin, and it didn’t keep Mummy from dying. But it gave me something to love, to fill the void.… Why am I telling you this? I’ve never said—”
Gemma touched her fingertips to Jo’s outstretched hand. Kincaid thought he might have disappeared as far as the two women were concerned. “I have a son the same age as your Sarah. I know what it’s like.”
