6 - Pages of Sin by Kate Carlisle Page B

stranger situations than this, Brooklyn. What do you think we should do?”
    True, lately I’d had plenty of experience with murderers and their victims and suspects, but Mom was usually so much better at dealing with people than I was. The fact that she was turning to me for advice made it clear how completely distressed she was by what we’d found today.
    There was only one person I could think of who could make sense of all this intrigue and could deal with the various family members in a nonjudgmental way. “We need Guru Bob.”
     
     
    That night, Mom, Dad, and I arrived at Robson’s elegant home an hour and a half before Wanda’s memorial service was scheduled to begin at the town hall.
    Guru Bob ushered us into his stylish sitting room and asked us to amuse ourselves until the other guests arrived. Five minutes later he walked in with Elaine, the two chatting like they were old friends. “It has been too long since we last saw you in Dharma,” Guru Bob told Elaine.
    “Thank you, Robson,” she said, nervously smoothing the hem of her subdued but pretty sage jacket. “It’s lovely of you to invite me here.”
    “The others will arrive shortly,” Guru Bob told her, then indicated an array of wines and finger foods laid out on the sideboard. “Jim will pour you a glass of wine or a soft drink if you wish one.”
    Dad had already poured half glasses of wine for Mom and me. Strangely enough, I wasn’t in the mood for anything strong tonight, but the glass gave me something to hold.
    I truly didn’t want Elaine to be hurt, but I was still excited to have a front row seat for the unraveling of an almost-twenty-year-old mystery, along with any accompanying fireworks that might take place.
    Marjorie breezed in a minute later, looking very chic and blond in a red wrap dress with black patent leather heels. A double gold rope chain hung around her neck and braided gold hoops dangled from her ears. She was all dressed up for a fancy cocktail party rather than for a memorial for her dead sister.
    I remembered meeting Marjorie once or twice when I was much younger. Back then, Mom had called her the vivacious Bradford sister, and she still held that title.
    I was currently having a hard time feeling much sympathy for Marjorie. She’d slept with the guy that one sister had loved and the other had married. And what kind of woman showed up in a red dress for her sister’s memorial service? I mean, come on!
    I tried to tamp down on my initial reaction to Marjorie by reminding myself that she and Elaine had recently suffered a great loss. Who knew what went through someone’s mind when a beloved sister died? I only prayed I wouldn’t have to suffer that fate for many, many years.
    Marjorie cast a wary glance at Elaine, who was standing by herself across the room. She hesitated, but then seemed to draw on some internal strength and strolled directly over to her, clutched her by the arms and said, “We’re sisters and we always will be. Wanda would want us to make amends. Despite our differences, I’ve always loved you and . . . I need you, Elaine. Byron needs you. He needs us both right now.”
    Well. That was unexpected. Seconds ago, the lady in red hadn’t looked like she needed anyone—unless it was to fetch her a cocktail.
    I didn’t have to look at Elaine to know that tears were forming in her eyes. The woman was a natural crier. It was no wonder I liked her so much.
    Despite the tears, Marjorie and Elaine’s reunion looked happy. Were we about to throw cold water on their warm feelings?
    A moment later, Marjorie looked around and seemed to remember her role as a world-famous author and international jetsetter. She had people to schmooze. Giving Elaine’s arm another quick squeeze, she headed straight for Mom and Dad and greeted them effusively with hugs and air kisses. “Becky, it’s been so long since I’ve seen you. Hello, Jim. You’re a sight for sore eyes.”
    Whatever that meant.
    Elaine managed to