0945820950924859

Chapter Six
Even before she got Trevor’s telegram, Emma had been checking into the history of LaRusse
Chapman and his possible romantic conquests. Tess offered a good starting place with her list of
families who had provided references for Chapman when she had first commissioned Anne’s
portrait. But these people had nothing but glowing things to say about the painter, which Emma
supposed was not surprising; LaRusse would hardly have offered jilted girls and outraged parents as
his references.
“Apparently he doesn’t seduce every woman he meets,” Emma said to Geraldine over breakfast on
the morning of December 22, “for quite a few people stand ready to proclaim the man’s virtues.
Perhaps he is one of those fellows who only find a certain kind of woman attractive? You know, the
sort of man who chooses some variation of the same woman over and over?”
“More likely he only bothers to make advances if he believes he has a good chance of succeeding,”
Geraldine replied. “He looks for girls who are vulnerable, insecure, eager for flattery.”
Emma was surprised. “And Anne Arborton fits that description?”
“I’m childless, and thus likely speaking out of turn,” Geraldine answered, folding her morning paper
and removing her glasses. “But it seems to me that the most confident mothers often produce the least
confident daughters. Leave the next step to me. I shall make a few calls and compose my own list -
debutants from the last three seasons, since that is apparently his preferred hunting ground. And then I
shall poke around and see if any of those girls have dropped from the social scene.”
“Time is of the essence,” Emma said.
“Darling, please,” Geraldine said, with an airy wave of her hand. “This is the business of a single
afternoon.”
Emma smiled – for someone who claimed to be a dotty old lady, Geraldine could be remarkably
focused when she chose to be – and turned her attention back to Trevor’s wire. “Trevor mentions a
specific name, although this girl isn’t missing. Apparently she’s an artist at the colony. Dorinda
Spencer. Have you ever heard of her?”
Geraldine shook her head, a pensive frown playing across her features. “I thought I knew every
family on the circuit, but I don’t know any Spencers. If she is standing there before his eyes, why has
this Dorinda piqued Trevor’s interest?”
“He doesn’t say.”
“All right then,” Geraldine said, rising to her feet with a flourish. She loved to have a task, most
especially a task connected to the Murder Games Club. “I am off to sniff out intrigue with LaRusse’s
other potential artistic muses and you are off as well, my darling.”
“And what is my mission?”