Chapter Ten
Crossfire
Gathering her belongings in her large bag, Mrs. Roman grabbed the bottle with one hand and took me by the arm with her other hand. She ushered me hastily upstairs. Honey was waiting for us at the top of the steps. I expected the much-anticipated confrontation to begin immediately.
Instead, Honey said, “I wish you hadn’t worn a catsuit.”
“Oh, I forgot,” Mrs. Roman said. “You were wearing a Catwoman suit at the New Year’s Eve masquerade party. When Rennfield Clark died. I didn’t mean to remind you.”
“Let’s talk in the parlor,” Honey said, leading the way. “I suppose I’m jealous, too. My outfit didn’t create the kind of sensation you would have,” she demurred, sitting on a couch with the sealed fireplace to her left.
Mrs. Roman sat beside her and placed her bag an
