“What did you learn?” asked Amy, who was putting the finishing touches on the table setting.
“I didn’t learn Paula’s home address,” Peggy said, “which is what I was hoping to find, but I did learn a few other things. For one thing, Paula does come from California, as she said. The store labels are all from Los Angeles shops. And for another thing, I learned that her name is really Paula Andrews and her parents do have an awful lot of money.”
“How did the clothes tell you that?” Amy asked, puzzled.
“Well, some of the clothes are custom-made, and they all have labels that read, ‘Designed for Paula Andrews by Helen de Mayne.’”
“Whew!” Amy whistled. “Isn’t Helen de Mayne that famous Hollywood designer who does costumes for the stars?”
“Right,” Peggy said. “And that’s all I’ve learned from the clothing.”
“I wonder if we need to know any more,” Amy said thoughtfully. “If we want to find out anything now, can’t we just check with Helen de Mayne? She could certainly tell us who Paula’s parents are, if she designs Paula’s clothes.”
“I thought of that,” Peggy said, “but I’d rather not unless we have no other way. I don’t want to stir up anything, and if we start asking questions about Paula, we’re going to have to give some answers about why we’re asking. I would want to know what the situation is before I started to do anything like that.”
“I guess that makes sense,” Amy said, “but where are you going to look next for more answers?”
Peggy glanced despairingly about the barren, impersonal room. It didn’t seem possible that it had any more information to yield, and she was already exhausted with the psychological strain of searching. She sat down on the daybed with a sigh of resignation.