The Mortal Groove Read Online Free PDF Page A

questions, you’ll have to ask him.”
    â€œAll right. Fair enough. But could you talk a little more about your family life when you were growing up?”
    Jane took a deep breath. “I guess I feel incredibly blessed. We lived in St. Paul. My dad still lives in the house my brother and I grew up in. As a family, we had our disagreements, our ups and downs, but we loved each other. I think that’s what being a family teaches you. You can disagree, but you can still love.”
    â€œNow there’s a nice quote. Good for you, Jane.” She flippedto the next page of her notes. She asked a few more questions about Jane’s early life, then moved on to the Lyme House. Ten minutes later, she announced, “I think I’ve got some great information here, but if you’d indulge me one more minute for one last question?” Tapping a long red fingernail against her notebook, she said, “Do you think your father will support things like the Gay Pride Parade?”
    Jane’s eyes slid right. “We’re done.”
    Â 
    Around seven, Jane left the club, headed for the airport. Cordelia’s plane was scheduled to arrive at 7:35. This was Cordelia’s second trip across the pond since the beginning of the year. Her first trip to England, in early February, had been a spur-of-the-moment decision, which turned into a disaster. Octavia, her husband, Radley, and Hattie were gone from the house in Northumberland, the only address Cordelia had. The staff refused to give out any information about the family, where they were, when they would be back. Cordelia had booked a room in the nearest town and waited for over a week. She eventually gave up and flew home.
    This time, however, her private investigator had been monitoring the Northumberland house. It was still a Cordelia-esque last-minute decision to get on the plane, but at least there was a better chance the family would be there. Jane offered to make the flight with her, but alas, Cordelia had booked the last seat. That was three days ago. Jane had received an e-mail from her this morning. It contained nothing but the return flight number and her time of arrival.
    The traffic on the Crosstown was worse than Jane had expected, so when she pulled up to the curb on the arrival deck, Cordelia was already waiting outside, looking exhausted and utterly forlorn.
    â€œI thought you’d never get here,” she muttered, hoisting her bag into the backseat.
    â€œTraffic.” Jane studied her friend as she got herself settled. “How did you get those scratches on your face? Did Octavia do that?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œThen what happened? Did you see Hattie? Did you get Octavia to change her mind?”
    Cordelia pinched the bridge of her nose and leaned her head back. “None of the above.” She motioned with her arm. “Drive on. I will tell all.”
    As they eased back into traffic, Cordelia sighed. “At least the PI had it right. They were home this time. I rented a car and drove up from London, got there just before nine in the evening—whenever that was. I’m all turned around for time. I knocked on the front door and believe it or not, Octavia answered. She rushed at me like a she-devil! Refused to let me in. You would have been proud of me, Jane. I started off trying to be conciliatory, but that’s wasted on my sister.
    â€œShe pushed me out onto the steps and closed the door. Said that Hattie was in bed and she wouldn’t wake her. I said fine, I’d come back in the morning. But oh, no. That wasn’t going to happen. She insisted that I was responsible for turning Hattie into a weird little kid. That she kept asking for things like Brie, cornichons, fondu, foie gras, Steak Diane, fuffernutter ‘sandwishes.’ I responded that I took Hattie’s culinary education seriously. That’s when Octavia said, ‘And what’s all this crap about Mildred Pierce? And