There was something distinctly odd about this. Donna Evans, the catering manager at the Farrington House, was one of the most organized and detail-oriented people I had ever met. I didn’t buy the story that the hotel had “mislaid” Eagleton’s request. I was willing to bet the hotel had checked his credit card limit, found that he was maxed out, and turned him down.

Just how desperate for money was he?

TWENTY-FOUR

Even if Winston Eagleton was in dire financial straits, how did that connect him to the murder of Carrie Taylor? Desperation could drive a person to do things he might not otherwise contemplate, but there had to be a link between the need for money and the act of murder.

I realized that it was likely the one had nothing to do with the other in this case. Eagleton’s finances could well be a side issue.

Then again, what motivated the killer in this instance?

I mulled it over while I loaded my plate with potato chips, onion dip, a few grapes, and a dozen cubes of cheddar. I turned to see that Della Duffy was the new arrival. When I shifted position, I bumped my wineglass with my elbow. Red wine spilled all over the tablecloth.

At least my clumsiness saved me from having to dispose of it elsewhere. I set my plate down and grabbed a couple of napkins to sop up as much of the wine as I could. Once I had disposed of them, I took my plate and moved toward Eagleton and Della Duffy. I was embarrassed by my klutziness but I ought to apologize to the man.

My host and Ms. Duffy were engaged in a low-voiced conversation but they broke off when they realized I was approaching them.

“Evening, Ms. Duffy,” I said. “Nice to see you again.”

Della Duffy, dressed in a low-necked, black linen cocktail dress with flounces around the sleeves and the hem, examined me warily, I thought. “Did you bring that cat with you?”

I didn’t care for her tone. Rudeness on her part was bringing out the worst in me. I tried to keep a straight face as I responded. “No, he stayed home. He doesn’t like cocktail parties.” I stuffed a cube of cheddar in my mouth and chewed to keep from laughing.

Ms. Duffy’s eyes narrowed, as she no doubt realized I was poking fun at her. “Nice to see you again, too.” The patent insincerity of her tone was payback for my comment.

“Della my dear, may I offer you a drink?” Eagleton, seemingly oblivious to the tension between his two guests, patted Ms. Duffy’s arm. He leaned closer and for a moment appeared to lose his balance before he managed to steady himself. I noticed his tall glass was empty, and I figured I knew why he was oblivious. He was well on the way to getting totally pickled on scotch.