Death in a Funhouse Mirror Read Online Free PDF

as an invasion of privacy. A necessary invasion, I knew, but I still hated to be the one to answer them. It's not easy to share the details of a friend's personal life with a stranger. "I'm sorry. I'm not trying to be difficult. I'm just not very comfortable with this whole scene. Talking about Eve here in her own house, so soon after..." I said.
    "The first few days are critical," he reminded me, so I tried to answer his questions.
    "Anyway, Detective, it's not a short-answer question. And I can only speak for the past. I haven't seen much of Eve the last few years."
    "You're not expected to produce the correct answer," he reminded me, "just information."
    "It isn't easy to be the daughter of a beautiful woman," I said, "and Helene Streeter was beautiful. It isn't easy to be the daughter of two shrinks, and both of Eve's parents are... were... shrinks. It isn't easy to be the only child of two parents who feel obligated to produce a psychologically perfect specimen. And it isn't easy to be the daughter of a strident feminist. Eve and Helene had disagreements. Helene pressured Eve to confide in her; she wanted to know the details of Eve's life. When Eve was younger, Helene tried to run her life. She and Cliff both wanted to have a dialogue about everything. They discussed things to death, demanded confidences and intimacy when Eve needed privacy and independence. It was more complicated than I'm making it seem. I'm sure you realize that. They were also busy professionals and Eve was alone too much. It was sort of an all-or-nothing thing. Eve dealt with it by lying. She told them what they wanted to hear. Their relationship was no picnic, but whatever their differences, Eve loved her mother."
    I switched the oven to 425, got out a muffin tin, greased it, and dumped stuff into a bowl, stirring the blueberries in carefully so they wouldn't turn the muffins gray.
    "What is that stuff?" he asked, looking over my shoulder.
    "Clogged arteries and cardiac arrest," I said. "Is there any coffee left?" The uneasiness I'd been trying to avoid with my bustle wouldn't stay away any longer. I was upset by seeing Eve so distraught and disoriented. I didn't understand what she meant about her father and Rowan killing Helene, unless it was all just the product of hysteria. My attempts to distract myself by cooking weren't working. What was I doing here, determinedly cooking for no one in particular, in Helene's kitchen? I'd just swept in and taken over, in my usual "Thea will fix it" way, but I didn't belong here. I'd come because Eve was my friend, but she was asleep. She didn't need me right now and this wasn't even her house. I had no idea how Cliff felt about my being here, all I knew was that he hadn't been overjoyed to see Andre. Suddenly everything seemed too strange.
    I burned my finger hurrying to get the muffins into the oven, and the pain cut through my diversionary bustle and confusion like a plunge into cold water. I was still here because I didn't want Eve to wake up alone. I didn't want to leave until I saw that she was okay. The cooking was just something to do to pass the time.
    "Rub this on it," Dom said, handing me a rubbery little green thing. "Aloe. It's good for burns."
    "You don't miss much, do you?" I said.
    "I hope not."
    Cliff Paris came into the kitchen, carrying some empty glasses, looking lost and confused. "Something smells good, Mariah," he said. "Is that dinner?" He stopped and stared at me, his eyes narrowed with suspicion. "Thea? You're still here? I thought you left when Eve fell asleep. I was hoping that good smell meant dinner. Where's Mariah?"
    I shrugged. "I don't know where Mariah is, Cliff. I don't even know who Mariah is."
    "Of course you do," he said impatiently. "Mariah. Our housekeeper. Been with us for years. Excuse me." He stepped past me and toward the sink and tried to set down the glasses he was carrying. The first one teetered on the edge of the sink and fell in. The second missed the counter