Chapter Fifteen
Beatrice felt a small shiver go up her spine. She gave a half step back. “How did you know about the art? I thought you said that you’d never gone into the house.”
Trixie gave a sharp laugh. “Right. No, I meant that I figured she had awful taste in art. I didn’t even like some of her clothes. She had that avant-garde thing going on and I really just like normal, traditional stuff. Why not just wear tee-shirts and blue jeans if you’re not doing anything special, right?”
Beatrice took a deep breath. “I hear you. It’s just a little discrepancy, isn’t it? Sort of like the discrepancy when you told me that you were working Monday evening when Devlin was killed.”
Trixie put her manicured hands on her hips and gave Beatrice a belligerent stare. “What are you gabbing about? I w
