“Daphne, how nice to see you. Did you come out to—”

  A stocky man about five foot nine pushed his way between us. His face was set in a furious grimace as he clutched Daphne’s upper arm. “And here you are, hiding in plain sight.”

  “I’m not hiding,” Daphne said. She tried to shake free of his grip, but he held on.

  “Let go of her!” I said.

  His dark eyes looked me up and down. “Get lost. This is between me and my wife.”

  “Bert, stop it! You’re hurting me.”

  Frantically, I looked around. John Mathers stood several feet away, conversing with a group of people. I was about to run and get him when Charlie and Serena walked by.

  “Charlie! Come here! Please!”

  In one glance he’d figured out the problem and approached Daphne and the man I assumed was her ex-husband. Charlie removed Bert’s hand from Daphne’s arm and clenched Bert’s shoulder.

  “I don’t think the lady’s buying what you have to sell.”

  “Is that so?” Bert was furious at the interference. He stared up at Charlie, who had a good six inches on him, and tried to shake free of his grip, but Charlie held firm. “Look, buddy. This is a private matter. Between me and my wife.”

  “I’m not your wife,” Daphne said. “Not anymore.”

  “I’m telling you to take a walk,” Charlie said.

  Daphne’s eyes widened as she stared at Serena, then back at Charlie, no doubt thunderstruck that Charlie Stanton had come to her rescue.

  Serena tugged at Charlie’s sleeve. She was statuesque and considerably taller than she’d appeared sitting down. Even so, she barely reached Charlie’s shoulder. “Keep out of this, Charlie. Don’t get involved. Dirk won’t like it.”

  “Are you kidding? This guy’s bad news. I know the type.”

  I raced over to John. “Sorry,” I interrupted the group’s conversation. “John, I need you. There’s a situation.”

  Given our past history of solving a few murders together, John knew I wasn’t one to get upset over nonsense and followed me without a word.

  Bert had calmed down by the time we broke through the ring of people that had gathered around him and Daphne, Charlie, and Serena.

  “Ah, the law has arrived,” Charlie said cheerfully. “Serena, I think this is where we exit the scene.”

  They left. Daphne looked like she wanted to take off too.

  “What’s going on here?” John asked, his stern gaze on Bert.

  “Nothing,” he mumbled. “I just was talking to my wife. My ex-wife, that is.”

  John’s expression was considerably softer when he turned to Daphne. “Do you want to talk to him?”

  “I do not. Not now. Not ever.”

  John nodded and returned his attention to Bert. “I think that’s pretty clear. What’s your name and where do you live?”

  Bert mumbled something too low for me to hear. Whatever it was, it pissed John off.

  “I’m Lieutenant John Mathers of the Clover Ridge Police Department. If you don’t care to show me some identification, I’ll haul you off to our local jail for assaulting your ex-wife. Now, if you don’t want to spend a night there, I advise you to comply with my request.”

  Bert whatever-his-last-name-was let out an exaggerated sigh as he pulled out his wallet and showed John his driver’s license. John took a photo of it with his cell phone and handed it back to Bert.

  “Thank you, Mr. Lutz. Now do us all a favor and drive back to Ohio.”

  Bert ignored John and pointed a finger at Daphne. “We’re not finished, you and I. You’ll be hearing from me.”

  He swaggered off.

  “I’d like to leave now,” Daphne said.

  “Of course,” John said. “Please call the station if he bothers you again.”

  Daphne nodded and walked briskly away. I followed after her. “Daphne, would you like me to come with you?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “No, Carrie. Thank you for getting Lieutenant Mathers, but right now I need to be alone. To figure out what I’m going to do.”

  Going to do? “This must be very upsetting, especially after he showed up at your program Tuesday night.”

  Daphne thrust back her shoulders. She wore a look of determination I’d never seen from her before. “I’ll be all right. Please don’t worry about me.”

  Easier said than done, I thought as I headed for my car and what I hoped would be a peaceful evening at home in my cottage.

  Chapter Seven

  Dylan finally arrived home Monday night, exhausted and exhilarated. It was close to eleven when he stopped by the cottage to bring me up to date on his case. He’d tracked the thieves to Vienna, where INTERPOL and the Austrian police had captured them. He’d managed to retrieve the two remaining paintings and most of the Chinese artifacts. Best of all, he was home to stay—until the trial, which was months away, when the thieves would be extradited to Texas.

  We sat on the living room sofa, our arms around each other. Smoky Joe welcomed Dylan home by plopping down on his lap.

  “As soon as I have the New Haven office under control, I’m hiring someone to help me with cases. And Mac agrees we need someone to take my place in the field. That means finding the right person, training him or her, et cetera. It will take time, babe, so be prepared that I’ll probably have to take off a few more times before I can stay put.”

  “As long as you’re here now,” I said, and yawned.

  “I’m keeping you up,” he said, getting to his feet.

  “Sorry, but I have to be up really early in the morning. My mother called to tell me that several of Tom’s scenes are being filmed on the beach behind the inn where the two couples are supposed to be staying. They’re scheduled to start shooting at seven, but she said to get there as early as I can make it, because once word gets out, the place will be flooded with spectators.”

  “I’m beat, too. We’ll catch up over dinner tomorrow night.”

  The next morning my alarm clock woke me at five thirty. I stumbled to the bathroom, aware that the sun still had yet to rise. I decided to leave Smoky Joe home for the day, since I didn’t want to leave him in the car while I watched the filming and it didn’t make sense to drive all the way home to get him before work when the library was a few minutes’ drive from the waterfront.

  I wasn’t familiar with the seven miles of Clover Ridge shoreline that ran along the Sound, though it was only a few miles from the Green. It had never been developed or beautified, though it was popular with fishermen and boaters, many of whom docked and winterized their boats at one of the two marinas. The few seafood restaurants built along the strip were modest, but the three or four small inns were supposedly “hidden treasures” known to very few.

  My mother hadn’t been kidding when she said, early hour or not, the place would be mobbed with spectators. Cars were parked helter-skelter along both sides of the two-lane road that ran parallel to the Long Island Sound. I parked as close as I could to the Clever Clam—or I should say the Tarleton Arms, where the two couples in the movie were on vacation. Because the forecast for the day was warm and sunny, Dirk had decided to film as many outdoor scenes set on the back lawn and stretch of beach as they could get in. My mother had said he’d be starting with a scene between Tom and Ilana, followed by one with Tom and Serena.

  As I approached the inn, I noticed the three large equipment trucks beyond it. Those watching crowded together on the lawn and faced the water.

  My mother had told me to go inside the inn and tell whoever was on duty who I was. A woman at the desk said, “You can go inside. They’re in makeup.”

  I walked through the narrow hall, observing that the movie people had taken over all the downstairs rooms. One room was filled with costumes, another with equipment. I entered the third room, where Hattie Fein, the makeup woman, was attending to Ilana while a skinny young man sporting black leggings, a black T-shirt, and a long black ponytail worked on Tom.

  “There you are!” my mother said as she approached me from the corner of the room. “I was beginning to think you weren’t coming.” She sounded harried.

  “It’s pretty hectic out there,” I said. “So many people have come to watch.”

  “Didn’t I tell you? That’s why I said to come early.”

  I came as early as I could. “Can I be of any help?” I asked.

  Ilana must have heard me, because she called to me, a fake smile on her beautiful face. “Hi there, Tom’s stepdaughter. I’m dying of thirst. Could you pretty please get me a Diet Coke from the kitchen? And make sure it’s cold?”

  “Sure.” I glanced at Serena, Tom, and Charlie. “Would anyone else like something to drink?”

  Serena smiled as she shook her head.

  “I wouldn’t mind some ginger ale,” Charlie said. “Thank you, Carrie.”

  Pleased that he remembered my name, I turned to Tom. “Anything for you, Tom?”

  “Nothing, thanks.”

  I left the room and went to find the kitchen, which I figured was located at the back of the inn past the staircase. I returned with the cans of soda and handed them to Charlie and Ilana.

  “Thanks, Carrie,” Ilana said. She sipped some soda, then held out the can to Tom. “Want some?”

  “Sure.” Tom took the can from her and drank. Was it my imagination, or did their fingers touch?

  I glanced at my mother. She looked as though she was about to burst into tears. I pulled her into the hall.

  “That woman is awful! I’d like to take her soda and pour it over her head,” I whispered.

  My mother shrugged. “Tom claims it’s just her way and she means nothing by it. Yesterday she made a big play for Charlie. Only he made a joke of it. He stroked her head and treated her like a puppy.”

  Dirk strode into the room. “All right. Everything’s set up and we’re ready for your scene,” he said to Tom and Ilana. “Remember, this is the scene where you run into each other at the water’s edge. Tom, you’ve gone out for a walk. Rachel, the woman you’re to marry, is resting in your room. Same for you, Ilana. Your lover Austin is tired after driving four hours and you need some fresh air.”

  “And I don’t want to waste one minute of this delightful weather,” Ilana said, beaming at Tom. “And neither do you.”

  Dirk gave a few more directions, and then he, Tom, and Ilana went outside.

  “Follow me,” my mother said as she also exited the inn. “You’ll be able to see it all from where we’ll be standing.”

  Outside, there was a buzz of activity. Ronnie Rodriguez, the cameraman, had his huge camera contraption ready to start shooting. Dirk went to talk to the extras while someone walked over to the crowd behind the rope, no doubt telling them to remain silent.

  “I’m surprised at how big the set is,” I said to my mother, taking in the terrace, lawn, and stretch of beach.

  “In the scene they’re about to shoot, Luke and Vicki—the two characters Tom and Ilana are playing—walk along the water for a bit, then sit down on the terrace and have a drink,” my mother explained.

  Dirk gave Ronnie some last-minute directions, then got into his moving chair. “Action!” he called.

  I was spellbound as I watched Tom approach Ilana as she stood on the beach, staring at the water. Though their voices were low, I could make out the words and follow their conversation. What struck me the most was how different Luke and Vicki were from Tom and Ilana. Luke was more open and less sophisticated than Tom. And Vicki was completely devoid of Ilana’s flirty personality. I thought the scene was going along great when Dirk called out and stopped the action. He conferred with the two actors. I saw them both nod. The camera moved back, as did the sound techs with their boom mics, and the scene began again.

  More than an hour later, Dirk called the scene a wrap and called for a break. My mother seemed very pleased. “Only three takes and they got it done,” she said.

  “But the actual scene isn’t even ten minutes long,” I said.

  “That’s movies,” she said.

  We followed Dirk, Ilana, and Tom inside the inn. I glanced at my watch. I had to leave for work soon.

  Dirk, Ilana, and Tom huddled in a corner of the makeup room, then Dirk turned his attention to Serena, who’d been chatting with Hattie Fein. My mother approached Tom.

  “That went wonderfully,” she said.

  “Thanks, Brianna,” Tom said.

  “I agree,” Ilana chirped. “Such a romantic scene. Two people meet and have no idea they’re about to fall in love.” She rubbed Tom’s back. “It reminds me of the way we met.”

  Tom looked at her quizzically. “Really? We met at a party. At Chris Tankeroff’s house. It was his wife Tandy’s thirtieth birthday party.”

  “Of course! You’d brought that pretty little assistant who had one drink and became violently ill.”

  “Not from the drink. She had an allergic reaction to one of the hors d’oeuvres.”

  “Whatever! You were so cute, looking after her. Trying to find a doctor among the crowd. That’s when I knew I had to get to know you.”

  “That’s quite enough, Ilana!”

  I stared at my mother. Her humiliation had gelled into a cold fury.

  “Mom, ignore her. Please! Deal with her later,” I begged, as Ilana let loose a silvery laugh as fake as the color of her blonde hair.

  “You had your chance with Tom years ago, and you threw it away.”

  Ilana batted her eyelids. “We’re merely reminiscing. Right, Tom?”

  “Tom!” my mother said, a note of desperation in her voice. “Do something.”

  “What would you like me to do?” Tom asked.

  My mother made a scoffing sound. “Stop playing into her fantasy. It’s humiliating. It’s not fair to me.” Her eyes filled with tears.

  I put my arm around her and tried to lead her away, but she shrugged free. I suddenly realized that all chatter in the room had ceased. Members of the cast and crew were staring at the trio, entranced as if they were watching an action film.

  “Say something, Tom.”

  “This is embarrassing, Brianna. It would have been better if you hadn’t …”

  “Come?” My mother’s voice was shrill. “You wanted me to come until she became part of the cast.”

  Ilana turned to my mother and flashed her a smile. “Brianna darling, try to relax. Tom’s a big boy—”

  My mother slapped her. People gasped. “You’ve gone too far, Ilana. Stick to the script or something very bad will happen to you!”

  Chapter Eight

  My mother cried the entire ride back to her rented house while I did my best to comfort her. I offered to spend the day with her, but she told me she’d be fine and I should go to work. I was upset that she was upset but glad that for once she was sharing her feelings. Her statements were all over the place and often contradicted each other.

  “I never should have married Tom,” she said between sobs. “We’re too different. When we first met, the age difference didn’t matter. He enjoyed being the focus of my attention. But lately it’s become clear to me that he wants a much younger woman.”

  Like Ilana, I thought but didn’t say.

  She blew her nose loudly, then went on. “I thought he loved me. No, I know he did. But now I wonder if he’s been pining for Ilana all these years.”

  “She’s some piece of work,” I said. “Too bad she ended up doing this movie playing opposite Tom.”

  “Dirk originally wanted Ilana for the role, but she was tied up.”

  “I see,” I said, as I drove down my mother’s block. “Would you have tried to stop Tom from taking the role if you’d known Ilana was in the movie?”

  “Of course not! Tom was elated when he got this part. I was happy for him. I had no idea that Ilana would behave this way.” She turned to me. “You saw for yourself—she’s all over Tom, like he’s a bowlful of rocky road ice cream she wants to devour.”

  Tom? A bowlful of rocky road ice cream? “She’s unbelievable, I agree. But it’s up to Tom to tell her to cut it out. What does she hope to gain from her behavior?”

  “Isn’t it obvious? She wants Tom.” My mother sniffed. “Although he claims she’s just acting that way for fun. Sometimes I can see his point. Other times I worry that he wants to get back together with her.” She shook her head in frustration. “I’m not sure what’s real and what isn’t anymore.”

  I rubbed my mother’s back. “I’m sorry you’re going through this. She has no right to humiliate you.”

  “I shouldn’t let her get to me. I blew up in front of everyone. Now I’m so embarrassed.”

  That realization brought a new bout of tears.

  As I pulled into the driveway of their rented house, my mother met my gaze. “Ilana’s ruined my relationship with Tom. She ruined my life. If only someone made her disappear.”

  * * *

  I left my mother sipping tea and watching a soap opera on television and drove to the library, surprised that despite all that had transpired since my visit to the movie set, I was going to arrive at work on time. I felt bad for my mother. I’d truly thought she had found happiness with Tom, but after seeing him with Ilana, I doubted there was much hope for their future together.

  But maybe I was being too pessimistic. After all, what did I know about marriage and how much stress one could endure? The question was, did Tom still love my mother?

  I turned on the radio to a local station that played soft rock. At the end of a song, the announcer came on.

  “There’s no update to report on the homicide we told you about earlier. All we know is the victim is a woman named Daphne Marriott, age thirty-seven. She was found strangled inside her rented apartment in Clover Ridge.”

  “Daphne!” A chill snaked down my spine.

  “As we reported earlier, a neighbor—Andy Fazio—said his dog started acting strangely—whimpering and pawing at the door—when they passed the victim’s apartment early this morning. Andy knocked several times. When Miss Marriott didn’t respond, he turned the knob. The door was unlocked. He walked in and found the body lying on the living room floor.