“I see you’re all suitably dressed. Most of you, anyway,” he went on, watery eyes scanning the room. “This evening, the Duchess has graciously opened her home to you, her River Heights neighbors, alongside luminaries of the art world, performers, musicians, collectors, and curators. It is her belief that you all have something to learn from one another.”

Some guests clapped. A few giggled nervously. Mostly, it looked like the River Heights citizens and the artsy visitors were keeping their distance from one another, gathering in little clusters of reserved folks or flamboyant outfits. Maybe the Duchess had some plan up her sleeve to help these two groups get to know each other. Lesley Gatewood sneezed three times in quick succession, then blew his nose into a lacy handkerchief, which he stuffed into one pocket of his immaculately tailored trousers before continuing.

“At eight o’clock the Duchess would like to share an announcement of her own. Until then, please feel free to enjoy our famous Strickland hospitality, view the art, and mingle. But please be assembled back here by eight for the Duchess’s announcement. I promise it is not one you’ll want to miss.”

With a final, strangled cough, Lesley Gatewood switched off the microphone and yielded the stage.

Now the crowd was really confused. All around me, I could hear people murmuring to one another.

“Is the Duchess leaving River Heights?”

“I heard she’s broke. Squandered her husband’s fortune on paintings.”

“I hope she donates some to the River Heights Museum of Fine Arts, at least.”

“Maybe she’s taking the whole collection to the dump.”

I remembered Zeke’s slip of the tongue. He’d said the Duchess was having an auction. Was that her big announcement—that she was putting her beautiful artwork up for sale? Why would she do that? How would Zeke have heard about her plans? And if she was auctioning everything off, why would she invite the citizens of River Heights? Most people I knew didn’t have money to spend on huge, fancy oil paintings or marble statues for their gardens.

“What do you think the Duchess is up to?” I asked Susan.

“From what I remember, in the old days the Duchess used to love party games and icebreakers. She always sat strangers next to one another at her dinner parties to see if she could make them into friends over the course of the meal.”

I had to admit that sounded pretty fun. Maybe there weren’t any big mysteries to this party. I should try to enjoy myself and meet some new people.

But then, from across the room, I heard a shriek of fury. Angelica Velvet was advancing on Zeke, who was backing away through the crowd, palms raised. In the confusion, I saw Diana slide her tablet into her bag and slip through the crowd. From where I stood by the granite throne, I was perfectly positioned to spot Diana’s angular haircut as she hurried through the ballroom doors into the main gallery, where she disappeared through a small door under a huge oil painting of a stormy sea.