She tried to close the window, but he reached in and stopped her. "I need to see your license and registration."
Her license? Did she have her driver's license? And the registration? Where on earth would Alice keep the registration? Poppy fumbled with the Miu Miu-why had she changed back to her big bag at Momma's? And, oh, no! She hadn't left any trinkets in there, had she?
She started to cry.
"Ma'am," the police officer said, "have you been drinking this morning?"
"Drinking? What? Good heavens. It's not even noon!" She fumbled some more.
"I need to ask you to get out of the car."
Poppy froze.
"Now, please, ma'am."
She felt the blood drain from her face the way it always did just before she fainted. Then she heard a familiar voice.
"Excuse me, Officer. Is something wrong?" It was Alice. Dear God, it was Alice. Poppy unbuckled the seat belt and scrambled over the console to the passenger's side.
"I told her to keep driving around the block while I ran an errand. Poppy?" she asked as she leaned past the policeman and poked her head into the car, "didn't I tell you to keep driving?"
"I'm sorry," was all Poppy could manage to say. "I was frightened I'd get lost."
"She doesn't come into the city very often," Alice calmly explained.
"Is this your vehicle?"
"Yes. Would you like to see my registration?"
"No, that's fine. But please get in and move along. Parking is illegal here."
"Thank you, Officer." Alice got in, buckled up, and turned off the four-ways. She cast a side look at Poppy, then pulled into traffic without saying a word.
Twenty-six.
When CJ awoke on Malcolm's bed, the odd thing was that she hadn't dreamed about him but about her ex-husband, Cooper. The truth was, she did that often. Throughout the day, the man in her thoughts was usually Malcolm. But during the night, her world belonged to Cooper.
That time they'd been on the ice rink in Central Park, skating to "Lara's Theme," as if they'd been atop a music box, the lights of the Manhattan skyline shimmering against the slate-colored sky.
"What do you want for Christmas?" Cooper had asked as they glided together, hand in hand, like teenagers on a first date. They'd been that-kind-of-comfortable since the beginning: every day sweet and nice, every day a first date.
"I want a rose-colored silk dress to paint for the premiere of your play."
He laughed. "I'll buy you whatever color you'd like. Now ask what I want."
"What do you want?"
"A baby."
"A baby?"
"A son. Or a daughter." His leather gloves squeezed tightly against her thick mittens. The pace grew faster, the music louder, chiming, chiming...
CJ woke up.
In a strange room.
On a bed.
Malcolm's bed.
She checked the clock; it was just past noon.
Chimes sounded again. One, two, soft and muted, tuneful and...
Oh, my God, she thought, leaping from the bed. The doorbell is ringing! The doorbell was ringing and there she was on Malcolm's bed.
She raced from his cozy room, through the master bedroom and out into the hall, pushing her thoughts from Cooper, back to Malcolm, back to Elinor. She prayed it wasn't Janice or even a housekeeper who'd forgotten a key. She'd be mortified if anyone found out she'd been sleeping where she'd been sleeping.
Oh, God, she thought again as she swung around the corner and spiraled down the stairs. I didn't smooth the comforter or close the door behind me.
She assured herself that it wouldn't matter if the blackmailer was the one at the door.
It was not the blackmailer; it was Yolanda. Her little girl was perched on her hip.
"Surprise," Yolanda said, which was, of course, an understatement. "Is Elinor here?"
"No," CJ replied as she drooped against the door and tried to catch her breath. "You missed her. She's gone to gather the ransom."
"Did she hear anything?"
"He called. She said she was getting the money."
"Rats."
"Rats," the little girl repeated.
CJ smiled. She wished she could remember the child's name. Then she noticed a look of concern on Yolanda's face. "What's wrong?"
"Well, nothing. I guess it can wait."
"Why don't you come in? I could make tea. Or find something for lunch?"
"I've only come for the note. The ransom note. Do you know where it is?"
Elinor hadn't shown CJ the note or told her where it was. For all CJ knew, Elinor had burned it after Jonas had found it. It was what CJ would have done.
They went into the morning room. Yolanda explained what her brother had said-that if he had the note, he might be able to figure out where the letters had come from.
"And then what?" CJ asked.
"And then, I don't know. He said it would be a good place to start."
"I thought he wasn't going to get involved."
"He thinks Poppy's cute."
"Oh, dear."
"I told him she's married. But my brother is a romantic. For years he's been trying to set me up with a friend of his from the army."
"And?"
"And nothing. I don't need a man."
CJ was about to say she understood when the doorbell rang again. "Good grief," she said. "Excuse me."
This time it was Poppy. And Alice, dressed up like the housekeeper.
"How did it go?" CJ asked. Alice said she'd explain everything if she could first have a glass of iced tea. With piles of ice.
They repaired to the morning room, where Yolanda waited. Her daughter greeted them with a happy squeal.
"Did either of you see the note?" CJ asked as she poured glasses of tea and sat down at the table with them.
"No," they said in unison. "Did you?"
CJ shook her head. "Manny thinks it might provide a clue."
"Manny?" Poppy asked, looking at Yolanda. "Your brother? He's cute."
CJ looked at Yolanda, who looked back at CJ, and CJ thought, Oh, dear, again but kept it to herself.
"She probably got rid of it. Or took it with her," Alice said.
"Or she left it here," Yolanda commented.
"In a safe," Alice added.
"Or in her nightstand," Poppy said. "That's where I put important things. Duane would never think to look there for anything."
No one questioned why Poppy felt a need to hide things from her husband.
"Well," Alice said, "we can't very well start going through her belongings. We'll have to wait until she gets back."
CJ thought about the master bedroom, where Elinor's nightstand was. She thought about the open door to Malcolm's room, and the rumpled comforter she'd left. "I can look around a little." It was better to offer than have one of them jump up and go scouting.
"She wouldn't mind if you did."
"You're her twin sister, after all."
"And it might be helpful," Yolanda said, "if you can find it."
"Fine," CJ said. "I'll look."
They sat another moment in curious silence, spritzing lemon, stirring in sugar. Then Poppy said, "When?"
"When, what?" CJ said.
"When are you going to look?"
"Oh, well. I don't know. Later." She didn't add, "When I'm alone."
"You could start now," Poppy said. "If you go try on the dress."
"The dress?"
Alice cleared her throat. Then she launched into the story of the housekeeper who didn't work on Thursday, Friday, Saturday, when the movie stars were there.
CJ couldn't follow everything, though Alice was quite clear when she said, "You need to dress up like the housekeeper and go back to the hotel tomorrow. You need to find the maid who cleaned the room and ask her what she knows."
"Me?"
"I'll be in Orlando."
"But I have to stay at the house."
"Poppy can house-sit in case the blackmailer calls. This is important."
"I'll have to go by myself?"
"Yes. And you'll need to find a garage a few blocks from the hotel. No sense letting anyone see that you have your own transportation." Apparently they did not think it made a difference that CJ drove an old Saab, not a Mercedes.
"But we agreed it would be risky because I look like Elinor," she said.
Alice shook her head. "Yolanda can get you a wig like she got Poppy." Yolanda nodded. "Yolanda, can you take a tuck or two in the dress right now? CJ can go to Elinor's bedroom and try it on. Maybe Elinor keeps a sewing kit in a nightstand next to her bed."
CJ knew very well what Alice was getting at, but she agreed anyway. "Wait here," she said. "I'll get you something to wear, and I'll try on the dress." As long as the rest of them stayed downstairs, CJ would agree to almost anything.
By the time Alice drove Poppy home, Poppy was too tired to care that the white Lexus still sat in the driveway. CJ hadn't found the note in the nightstand or anywhere else, so there would be no clues or fingerprints-like Duane's, for instance.