A Fatal Slip Read Online Free Page B

width of her skirt. Arabella and Francis were already waiting for them by the door. Arabella was resplendent in a midnight blue, long-sleeved gown that set off her white hair, and Francis looked just as distinguished in his evening wear.
    Hugh Granger greeted them as soon as they entered. “I’m so glad you changed your mind.” His practiced smile was aimed at Arabella.
    She nodded stiffly and gave a brief smile.
    “This is my wife, Mariel.” Hugh gestured to the woman standing next to him, her lips set in a thin line.
    She was considerably younger than Hugh—around fifty—and what Emma supposed would be called handsome rather than pretty. She was tall and trim but with broad shoulders and large, capable-looking hands. Her thick, dark blond hair was swept back off her forehead, the ashy color hiding a sprinkling of gray. She greeted them somewhat disinterestedly and immediately turned to talk to an older couple who had come in after Emma and Brian.
    “Well! Looks like he’s on wife number two,” Arabella said sharply as they moved away. “Or, number three or four, who knows? I only know that the first was called Elizabeth.”
    Francis forged a path through the throng of guests, and the rest of them followed, Brian’s hand on Emma’s elbow gently steering her past the knots of people milling around the reception area. Their chatter drowned out the trickle of a waterfall and the soothing, Zenlike music in the background.
    The ballroom was down a corridor lined with windows on one side. The glass reflected Emma’s image back at her, but she could just barely discern a courtyard beyond the mirrorlike windows.
    “This is some place,” Emma heard Francis whisper to Arabella.
    Double doors led into a magnificent ballroom. It was white and trimmed lavishly with gilt. A small balcony ran along the upper level. Two enormous chandeliers dripping with crystals were suspended over the tables below, covered tonight in white cloths with deep blue overlays. The tables were set with glittering silverware and crystal and white plates with a dark blue and gold rim.
    Brian ran a finger around his collar. “This is quite the setup.”
    “It sure is.” Emma looked around her, not even trying to pretend she was too sophisticated to be impressed.
    Waiters in black tie and tails and white gloves carrying trays laden with flutes of champagne and elegant hors d’oeuvres made their way through the crowd. A waiter suddenly appeared at Emma’s elbow offering champagne.
    “Thank you.” Emma selected a glass. She was tilting it toward her mouth when someone jostled her arm.
    Emma whirled around to see a woman standing by her side.
    “I’m so sorry,” she said. “My leg makes me clumsy. Let me call for a waiter to get you a cloth.”
    The woman wore a long dress, but judging by the slant of her hips, Emma suspected that her left leg was shorter than her right. And the shoes peeking out from under the swath of burgundy satin that made up the skirt of her gown were stout-looking ones with the sole built up on the left one. She was quite plain with pale skin, a sprinkle of freckles and only a dash of pink lipstick for makeup. Emma thought her to be in her late thirties or possibly early forties.
    Emma glanced at her dress. “Oh, please don’t bother. It’s fine. It didn’t spill.”
    “Are you sure?”
    “Yes.”
    “I’m Joy Granger, Hugh’s daughter.” She put a hand out, steadying herself by clutching the back of a chair with the other.
    Emma took her hand. “What a lovely name.”
    “Rather ironic, actually.” Joy gave a bitter smile. “Are you sure about your dress? I can easily have the waiter bring you a damp cloth.”
    “Really, it’s fine.”
    “In that case, I hope you enjoy the dog and pony show.” She moved away awkwardly.
    “What an odd woman,” Francis said after Joy had disappeared into the milling crowd. “And that remark about her name was rather strange, don’t you think?”
    “She might have