Read 'Til Death Do Us Part for Free Online

this, you idiot,” she shouted, at the same decibel level someone might utilize to announce that the barn was in flames. “It crumbles too much.”
    I glanced over to see Phillipa storm off through the swinging door at the end of the room, followed a moment later by Mary. The others, who had frozen in position momentarily, resumed their work with lowered heads, somber as restroom attendants.
    I returned to my lemon tart and my notebook, jotting down what I’d learned earlier from Ashley as well as from my brief conversation with Peyton. The more I thought about Ashley’s theory, the more preposterous it seemed. As I worked I glanced up every once in a while, observing the action in the kitchen. It seemed that one minute Peyton would play helpful instructor and the next she’d turn into a shrew. After about twenty minutes I caught her eye as she was whipping something with a giant whisk, and when she spotted me, she gave me the five-minute sign. Ten minutes later, she finally strolled over, wiping her hands on an apron.
    “Sorry,” she said, “but it couldn’t be helped. Listen, why don’t you come by the house for dinner tonight? I’d love for you to see my place.”
    “I’ve got a meeting at
Gloss
tomorrow, but I’ll take a rain check,” I said. “Just a couple more questions if you don’t mind. Did Robin eat lunch here every day?”
    “Yes. The employees generally help themselves to food left over from parties.”
    “Well, did you ever see her eat foods she wasn’t supposed to?”
    “I have
enough
to keep track of without checking up on someone’s diet. But I know that she was
always
grazing. And she had terrible willpower, especially when she was in one of her slumps—I’m sure Ashley could tell you about that.”
    I wondered suddenly what was keeping Ashley. I glanced out the window, and to my surprise I saw that it was snowing hard. I cursed myself for not having checked the weather report before I left New York. I told Peyton that I probably should get going and asked if it was possible to phone the silo.
    “No, the phone lines haven’t been put in,” she said. “I’d be glad to walk you over, though.”
    After we’d both buttoned up our coats, we headed outside. It was a different kind of storm from yesterday’s—the snow wasn’t nearly as dense, but it was gusting hard and the flakes felt like pinpricks as they made contact with my face. There were only a few cars in the parking lot and not a soul in sight. High in the trees the wind made a sound like pounding surf.
    As we approached the silo, I realized that the windows cut out of the sides were all dark. If Ashley was still working inside, a light should be visible. My heart began to beat harder.
    “Could she have gone to a different building?” I shouted over the wind. “I don’t see any lights on.”
    “I know—that’s odd,” Peyton shouted back, a look of concern forming on her face.
    She reached the door first, a wooden door without windows, and turned the handle. The door seemed to stick, and she leaned her body against it, giving it a big shove. With a groan, it finally opened. With the little bit of daylight that flooded inside, I could make out an open space with a circular staircase.
    “Ashley,” Peyton called, reaching for a light switch. “Are you here?”
    It took Peyton a few seconds to find the switch, and as her hand fumbled along the wall just inside the door, I could hear my heart pounding in my ears. Suddenly light filled the space—and Peyton screamed.
    Ashley was lying face-up at the base of the circular staircase. Her eyes were totally vacant and her mouth was twisted, caught forever in some state between surprise and terror. She still had her coat on, but she’d unbuttoned it and each side had flapped open, revealing her pretty peach pantsuit. Her right leg was tucked at an unnatural angle behind her, like a branch partially snapped on a tree. And beneath her, on the pale stone floor, was a pool of