“Voodoo girl?” asked Steve, “Is that what you call her? She does seem to have what’s his name in her spell.”
“She has Peter Werkhiser under her spell,” said Laura. “He poured his heart out to me last month at the Art Association opening.”
“That’s what you do at these things?” asked Steve. “You sit with some young guy, hold his hand, listen to his life story? Anything else I should know?”
Laura waved a beautifully manicured hand as though swishing away an unpleasant smell. “Oh, Steve,” she said, “you know you’re the only man for me.”
“I guess I know that,” said Steve. “But the only man for you is sick of this house. I don’t care how long it was in your family, let’s get the hell out.”
“Dinner is ready,” announced Tiffany, the housekeeper, making Laura jump. “We’ll discuss this later,” said Laura, clopping into the hallway.
Steve caught Tiffany’s eye and smiled. “Did she find it?” whispered the housekeeper. “Do you know how hard it is to get a Siamese cat to do something it doesn’t exactly want to do? Did she find it?”
“She had to,” said Steve. “She called that ghost woman from the Red Rose Inn.”
“Mark’s girlfriend,” said Tiffany. “I guess Laura thinks she can kill two birds with one stone.”
“Tiffany!” shouted Laura from the dining room. “I do prefer my hot food hot and my cold food cold. Are you serving dinner this evening, or do I need to serve myself?”
“Better go,” said Steve, giving her a quick hug and a push toward the dining room. “See you later, sweetie,” replied Tiffany.