He held up a hand. “Calling the police first.”

  Max offered him a wry grin. “I already called.”

  That got Lucas’ attention. There was almost no time out there as the guests arrived in the kitchen. When did that happen?

  It was like Max understood exactly what Lucas was thinking. “When everyone was pointing fingers. It was obviously murder, so I stepped out briefly to call 911.”

  “What did they say?” Lucas asked, hoping they’d arrive on the scene and take over so he could leave with his crew and salvage a mini-vacation. There was a small part of him already invested in this crime and wanted to see it through, wanted to see the killer in cuffs being led away.

  “Unfortunately, because of the storm, there’s been several accidents, trees falling on houses, car crashes due to flash flooding”—Max waved a hand as if saying, you understand—“that sort of thing.” He added, almost with pride, “They’ll get here as soon as possible, but it might be twenty-four hours.”

  “Will that be good for you?” Lucas asked.

  “Please explain.” Max rubbed his beard.

  Lucas noticed again that out of the entire group of Molly’s friends, this guy didn’t fit. He was at least forty, where the others were in their twenties. “Well, if you were the one to kill Molly, that would give you time to escape or cover your tracks.”

  There wasn’t an immediate response. Max seemed like an intellectual, one you might sit down with and discuss literature or politics in a cozy fireside chat. Not much ruffled him. Even a murder accusation.

  Finally, he said, “I wouldn’t hurt a hair on the head of Molly St. James.” At her name, his voice cracked. He didn’t continue until he could speak without emotion. “Detective, I can tell you anything you want to know about this family. I’ve known them for years. Please, make use.”

  Fine, Lucas thought, maybe Max was the killer, maybe not, but if this man could offer a solid base of information about Molly and her friends, that would help his next interrogations. “I’ll take you up on that. How do you know them?”

  Max took a deep breath, as if preparing himself for the onslaught of memories. “I’m a close friend of the father. I played golf with senior St. James, then, over time, got to know the rest of them. There’s always been an interesting dynamic between the children.”

  “You’re talking about Molly, Peter, and Susie,” Lucas stated.

  “Yes. For siblings, they are completely different. Peter is a goof, but he is loyal. It disappointed his father when he didn’t show any inclination or desire to go into the family business. Their father had hopes for Molly, though, in time.” Max paused, then added, “Peter might be a goof, but he would do anything to protect his sisters, especially Molly.”

  “Why Molly and not Susie?” Lucas asked.

  “Isn’t it obvious? Molly is the lovable one, the star. She was the glue and the glitter that held the family together, as they say. She deserved so much and demanded quite a lot of attention. As you can see, sometimes it’s the one who demands the attention who receives it. Sometimes the persistent child gets the cookie. Molly’s existence created ripple effects in the family.”

  “Explain.” But Lucas had a feeling he knew the answer. Even in the short time he was here, he could see the truth in Max’s observations. Susie, the younger sister, probably jealous, growing up in Molly’s shadows. Enough to kill? Maybe yes, maybe no. But enough that it pushed her to rebel and find her own identity outside of being a St. James.

  “Molly’s intelligence, when she was willing to use it, to explore it with tutors, was enough to push both her siblings in opposite directions. Peter found himself in sports and friends. Still does. While, Susie…”

  “Yes?”

  “Well, as I’m sure you noticed, a part of Susie hated her sister and all the natural attention she drew to herself.”

  “Would Susie kill her sister?” Lucas asked.

  “Yes.” Max uncrossed his leg, to switch position. “But I think Chase Holloway is more apt to have pulled the trigger.”

  Lucas perked up, raising an eyebrow. He was always wary of people casting definitive blame. It was too easy. “Why do you think that?”

  A dark look crossed his face. For a moment, Max looked guilty. Then it was gone.

  “Chase is a playboy, a gold digger, a nobody. He has nothing but his charm and good looks. Molly fell for him. She believed the best about everyone she met. It was one of her greatest attributes. She couldn’t see him for who he was.”

  “Chase doesn’t come across as needing financial help,” Lucas stated. He’d met and questioned plenty of the wealthy and they had a way about them. Chase fell right in with that suaveness and polish.

  “He’s broke, Detective. Completely broke.” Max leaned forward, his gaze piercing. “He knows how to play the part. He dresses in the latest fashions and chooses his friends to live the lifestyle he wants. Marrying Molly would have set him up for life.”

  Max seemed instinctively to know when to stop a story for the most dramatic effect. That was what he did now, waiting for Lucas to ask more questions.

  “So, what’s the punchline?” Lucas took the bait.

  “He’s a playboy, and he was cheating. Molly found out and broke it off with him. Told him not to come to the party, but he came anyway.” He laughed, but it wasn’t a kind laugh. “He was making some grand gesture.” Then his tone took a darker turn. “Or he didn’t want anyone else to have her.”

  “Who would that be? Who was his competition?” Lucas asked.

  “Molly and I dated briefly, and before you think I did it, know that I accepted our break-up, accepted that we had an age gap she couldn’t quite get past. I would have given her the world. Instead, I accepted my role as a friend and advisor. We were dear friends.”

  “Thank you for talking to me. I appreciate it. If I have more questions, I’ll let you know.”

  It was early the next morning when Belle woke him.

  He’d spent the night, head on the desk, sleeping. He didn’t want to leave the body unprotected, assuming he’d wake if someone entered the room. They moved into the kitchen, and even with the generator on, Lucas quickly realized one fact.

  “We have to move the body. It’s going to smell in this heat and humidity.” Unfortunately, the storm had not brought in cooler weather.

  “What about the crime scene?”

  “Unfortunately, due to the storm, the police won’t be arriving right away. There’s no way we can keep it untouched today. Everyone was in and out of the kitchen yesterday, fingerprints will mean nothing. This will be solved through old-fashioned questioning or finding the weapon.”

  It wasn’t fun and Lucas hated putting Belle in that position, but together, they moved the body of Molly St. James to a chest freezer in a pantry off the kitchen. It was close to empty.

  It didn’t take long, then they sat at the kitchen island, waiting for the coffee to finish its burbling and let loose that bit of steam, announcing it was done.

  “I talked to Chase last night,” Belle whispered, glancing toward the doorway. “I feel like anyone could be listening.”

  “Go ahead. What did he say?”

  “I guess Molly had uninvited him to the party. As he explained, she didn’t really mean it. It was her way of asking him to fight for her, to break the rules, to make the grand gestures.”

  “Did they have a fight?” Lucas asked as the steam let loose from the coffeepot. He stood and found mugs for them.

  “Did you notice how often Molly refilled her drinks last night?”

  He nodded. “And how often she added to it from her flask?”

  Belle nodded. “That’s what was strange. She was clearly upset and I’m assuming it had to with Chase. He said it was a little tiff, then he called it a doozy. He said it was all because he didn’t propose to her on a date night when she expected him to.”

  “Max claimed Chase was a playboy and a gold digger. He didn’t have a high opinion of the guy. Accused him of cheating on Molly.”

  “Well, I’m not sure Max is all that, either.” Belle sipped her coffee. “Yesterday, when we arrived, I saw him and Molly out in a canoe. They weren’t having a friendly conversation. She pushed him into the water.”

  Hmm. Lucas could see Max with a wounded ego. It depended on what they were fighting about. “Max didn’t tell me anything about fighting with Molly or being pushed in the water.” It always made him suspicious when someone conveniently left out facts. “I’ll talk to Chase after breakfast, then maybe I’ll chat with Max again.”

  “Both of them are creeps.” It was Susie, slinking into the kitchen, heading for the coffee. “If you ask me, they were in on it together.”

  Lucas wanted at least another hour talking about this case with Belle. He hadn’t even told her what Kara saw before she discovered the body. The tall shape of someone running into the night, which could be any of the guys here for the weekend, or maybe someone else. But this was the perfect opportunity for Belle to have a one-on-one with Susie. She might get more from her, then she’d admit to Lucas.

  Susie spit out, “Definitely one of those a-holes did it. I’d put my money on Max.”

  Chapter Eleven

  When Lucas refilled his mug and headed to what Belle considered his office for the detective work, she took the hint. Time to see what Susie knew about all this.

  She stood. “Should we get breakfast together?”

  Susie stared at her, unblinking. “You know that’s why Molly used Daddy’s money to pay the big bucks for Gladys. That’s her job. To be honest, Gladys is like a kitchen witch, pretty particular about her food. Just a fair warning.”

  “Oh.” Belle deflated. It would be easier to chat while moving about working, but she’d adjust. She poured another mug of coffee instead and sat back at the island. Susie jumped up and sat on the counter right near the source of the caffeine. Belle couldn’t tell if the baggy clothes she wore were her pajamas or her outfit for the day.

  That’s when it hit her that Susie had just lost her sister. Here was Belle, playing detective when there were real people and genuine feelings surrounding Molly’s murder. Any kind of death was a shock—a slap in the face—never mind when it was blatant murder. “I’m sorry for everything.”

  “What, Molly getting shot in the head? Yeah, it sucks. I’m sure my parents are flying home now and this place will swarm with FBI or CIA, at least a zillion detectives. Mummy and Daddy would do anything for their girl. Only the best for their darling princess.”

  Belle didn’t miss the sarcastic emphasis on Mummy and Daddy, like she was mocking Molly. Or that it was clear Susie felt Molly was the favorite daughter. Unfortunately, Susie didn’t have the perspective to know how much worse it could be. Like losing both your parents and then moving in with an aunt and uncle who didn’t care a wit about you. She tried to find the right phrase in response, but Susie kept talking.

  “But even with my parents, they’ll miss her, they’ll mourn. They might even cry, but I’m not sure what they’ll miss more—the actual daughter, Molly, or the fun and glamour of Molly. She was like my dad’s one hope to take over the company someday. Peter’s not interested in it, and my dad didn’t even consider me, the baby of the family. Why he considered Molly his best hope is beyond me.”

  “Why do you think that?”

  Susie let out a snort. With a toss of her head, she flipped the hair out of her eyes, but it fell right back where it was. “It wasn’t obvious? Molly was like a Disney princess who lost her story. Or she was waiting for it to happen. First, with Max. Then, with Chase. Both terrible choices.”

  “With Max?” Belle asked, remembering Susie’s comment about putting her money on the guy.

  “Daddy had Molly’s story all written out. He found a smart schmuck who’d fallen for his daughter, then attempted to push Molly into marriage with him.”

  “What happened?” Because obviously that didn’t happen.

  “Oh, Molly falls in love like a squirrel falls for nuts. She falls hard and fast, stars in her eyes, and yaps my ear off about it forever, then she loses interest. It’s the story of my life, listening to Molly’s heartbreaks. She lasted longer than I thought with Max. Almost two years. Probably to please Daddy. I think she met Chase and that was the end of that.”

  “Max seems cool with it.” Belle thought about Molly pushing him out of the canoe. “Though I noticed a moment between them that was pretty tense.”

  “That old fart hasn’t stopped hoping his princess would come back to him. He’s still hoping.” She rolled her eyes. “He took on the role of a dear friend, but deep down, he hopes she’ll land in his bed.”

  “Susanna St. James. Don’t be so crude.” Claire stalked into the kitchen, hair messed, looking like she didn’t sleep a wink. “Max would never think about Molly like that.”

  “Whatever. Maybe you guys like to think he’s some kind of god with nothing but pure intentions, some kind of good Samaritan, but let me tell you. He’s a guy like everyone and he thinks with his—”

  “Enough!” Claire shouted, more like commanded. Then, with a deep breath, she tried to find some composure. She tucked her hair behind her ears and headed toward the mugs.

  “I’m just telling it like it is,” Susie said. “That’s the difference between us. Molly would talk to me and I’d give it to her straight. The truth, no matter how ugly. She didn’t like those cold, hard facts, so she’d call you and get coddled and babied. You enabled her to live in la-la-land. Max would hold her hand and coo at her like she was a baby. The way you all treated her makes me want to vomit.”

  “Well…well…” Claire spluttered, words spitting out. “At least we loved her and encouraged her, which is more than I can say for you.”

  Susie jumped off the counter, her back ramrod straight, jaw tense. “You call that love? Love is not supporting someone’s delusions.”

  “Tell me one thing, Susie. Did you tell her about Chase? If you were so into the ugly truth and you loved her so much, did you tell her what you knew about him? That he’s a cheater? When Molly cried to you that he had cancelled dates and wasn’t responding to texts as quickly, did you tell her the rumors?”

  Susie shrugged. “I didn’t know for sure. They were rumors.”

  Belle watched, uncomfortable at witnessing such a personal argument, but also curious. Max told Lucas the truth, and Molly had suggested as much the day before. He was a cheater. Is that why they were fighting? Had Molly figured that out? Claire stomped over to the coffeemaker and had to brush by Susie to get to it. Susie didn’t budge an inch. Then Claire yanked out the pot and poured the coffee. She glanced over to where Molly’s body had lain, and shuddered.

  “Do you even care that she’s gone?” Claire hissed.

  Belle studied Susie as her expression dropped. It flickered with grief, and her eyes simmered with complicated feelings. Then her features turned to stone as if this was Susie’s comfortable place, not admitting anything close to what could be called feelings. When she spoke, the words came out like gravel on pavement. “You have no idea. I’m her sister. I might have hated her. I might have mocked her, but I also loved her to death.” Then she stormed out of the kitchen.

  The last phrase stuck with Belle. Loved her to death.

  Once upon a time, there were two sisters. The older one was beautiful and drew attention from everyone. The younger sister, who took effort to not be beautiful, to be surly and disagreeable, only had cruel things to say about her sibling. The father showered blessings and love upon the oldest sister, but left the younger one out in the cold, feeling unloved. Eventually, it wore on the younger girl. She wanted the love of her father, so when she had an opportunity, she shot her sister right between the eyes.

  Claire sighed and leaned against the counter. Her hands trembled and she couldn’t hold the mug steady, so she put it back on the counter. “I’m sorry you had to witness that. Obviously, we both loved Molly. Just showed it in different ways.”

  Yes, Belle had witnessed an ugly fight with cruel insults as the weapons, but she was most curious about another member of the birthday party. “Tell me about Chase.”

  “Chase Holloway?” Claire closed her eyes and breathed deep. “Where to start?”

  “The beginning?”

  “Molly called it insta-love. She saw him from across the room and she swore a choir of angels broke out in song. It was all she could talk about. We heard about nothing else for the last three months.”

  “Were they close to being engaged?” Belle didn’t want to reveal yet what Chase had shared with her. That their fight had been over his lack of a proposal, because she had a feeling it was a fib, or at least exaggerated.

  Claire’s expression drooped. “Molly liked to think so, but I’m pretty sure marriage wasn’t even on Chase’s radar. I think it freaked him out when he learned that’s how she felt.”

  “Is that why they were fighting? Is that why she uninvited him to this birthday weekend?”

  “Maybe. Something else happened, though. For the first time, Molly shut down and didn’t babble on about him. I was worried and hoped to get the full scoop this weekend. I’m afraid she figured out he was cheating.”

  “Neither of you thought to warn her about Chase?” Belle asked.

  “I wanted to. You don’t understand. Sometimes Molly only saw what she wanted to see. She had to learn things the hard way. If I had told her, she would have blown it off or cast the blame on gossip. If Susie had, Molly would have accused her of just being jealous. It was a lose-lose situation.”

  “Chase mentioned he was here to win her back. That Molly wanted him to fight for her, prove himself,” Belle said.

  “Maybe.” Claire shrugged. “But to be honest, the rumors of Chase being a playboy and looking to marry wealth aren’t completely untrue. He’s broke. The only person who knows how Chase really feels about Molly is Chase because he never tells the truth.” She took a breath. “I’m heading back to my room. It’s a little too much to be here.” Her gaze flickered to where the body had been.