Died with a Bow by Grace Carroll Page B

anyone to know we were twins.”
    “How did you manage that?” I asked while gaping at heroutfit, a pair of very wide-legged jeans, definitely fuller flaired, not quite bell-bottomed, but seventies inspired for sure. With the jeans she wore a sporty jacket and a pair of Miu Miu wedge sandals. None of which Vienna would ever have worn. Too casual. Too sporty.
    “Our parents got divorced when we were small. I went to live with my mother, and Vienna stayed with my father and his new wife.”
    “Bobbi,” I murmured, remembering our conversation.
    “Horrible woman,” Athena said. “That’s one thing my sister and I agreed on. We didn’t have many happy family reunions.”
    “Otherwise you weren’t close?” I asked. Athena certainly didn’t seem grief stricken over her sister’s death, but given their history, maybe it was understandable. And some people simply don’t show emotion the way others do.
    She shook her head. “I hadn’t seen Vienna for years. I was sent to boarding school in the East, then college. My mother and Hugh would come to New York for the holidays. The only reason I’m here now is because of the auction the other night.”
    “You were there?” I asked.
    “Mother insisted,” she said. “She bought a whole table. She’s very charitable that way. So is Hugh. So I flew in Saturday morning. But I left after the dinner. I hate those black-tie affairs. So boring. But what could I do? Mother knew Vienna would be there. How would it look if she didn’t have her other daughter with her to balance what I call ‘the Vienna effect.’ I hear my sister bid up a storm on some hot MD.”
    “Mm-hmm,” I said noncommittally. Now was not the time to mention that I not only knew the hot MD, but I alsowould be going out with him, thanks to her sister’s winning bid.
    “I was supposed to fly back to New York today, but my mother wants me here for the funeral. It’s tomorrow, you know.”
    No, I didn’t know. “I’m sure you’re a big comfort to your mother,” I said, because that’s what you’re supposed to say. To myself, I said, “Rita, you have to go. Everyone will be there, including the killer.” That’s how it happened at my last homicide. I went to a celebration-of-life gathering as well as the funeral for MarySue Jensen, one of our regular customers, and both events were eye-openers. It would be even better this time because now I knew what to look for: someone who cries too much, who falls apart, who is a little too sad and lets you know. It’s a dead giveaway. If I was looking for a suspect who was overly distressed, it was not Athena. I wondered if she even cared that her sister was dead.
    “My mother is freaked out,” Athena said. “She’s already had a call from a policeman who wants to interview her. Like she knows anything? Vienna didn’t even tell her she was working here, just that she was coming to the auction. She sent me today to see if Vienna left anything behind, any clothes or jewelry? What happened to the dress and the necklace she was wearing to the auction, Mom wants to know. She doesn’t want Bobbi to get her claws on anything, especially that necklace.”
    “I don’t know where her clothes are,” I said. “I’m the one who found your sister Sunday morning, and she was wearing the dress then—but not the necklace, come to think of it. You should speak to the police. Call the SFPD and ask for Detective Wall.”
    “I’ll do that. The necklace belonged to our grandmother—it’s a real heirloom piece, with an electric pink, pear-shaped tourmaline encircled in diamonds. Mom didn’t know Vienna had it until that night and she wants it back.”
    Wants it back? I thought. How can she want it back if she never had it? “I saw it. It was gorgeous. I don’t know why I didn’t notice it was missing.” Other than I was upset at finding a dead body. “Maybe your grandmother gave it to her,” I suggested.
    “I doubt it. Grammie is old and lives in a