I sat down on the chaise and felt my hair; some of it was sticking together and red flecks came off on my fingers. If there had been a trophy in reach I would have brained Dawn with it. Finally I took a deep breath and calmed myself down. Aunt Sam was counting on me and I had to see this through.

  I took Dawn's phone and held it up the way she wanted so that she could record her un-boxing video. I wondered what she was going to un-box; usually it's something like a pricey pair of Jimmy Choo shoes or the latest Dulce & Gabana sunglasses, but it turned out that Dawn had chosen a bottle of herbal sunscreen. It took her five minutes just to get the wrapping paper off the box, then she read every single word on the bottle including the directions, the uses, the warnings, the name of the distributor, the list of ingredients and the number under the bar code. She applied it to her arms and legs but mostly to her chest. Her bikini top was miniscule so that took a long time.

  When she was finally finished, I handed her back the phone and said, “Are you okay? I mean, you don't seem too upset over what happened to Brent.”

  “I guess you haven't been around old people a lot,” Dawn replied. “You realize that when people are really old they can die at any minute and you just have to accept it. It's part of being in an October/November relationship.”

  “Do you mean a May/December relationship?”

  “No, my birthday is in October and his is in November.”

  I decided it would be useless to debate the subject, so I said, “Still, Brent didn't die of old age; he was brutally murdered with his own award statue.”

  “Yes, but don't you think he would have wanted it that way? I mean he really loved that statue. It was very important to him.” Dawn reached her hand across the table to me. “Can you tell if my little finger is starting a hangnail? I really need to see someone about it if it is.”

  I told her I thought it was all right. “Did you notice anything unusual the night that Brent was murdered? Like when you were out in the hallway?” I asked.

  “Yes,” Dawn said. “I saw you and that old lady helping Charlie to his room. He was sick or drunk or something. That was definitely unusual because it's usually Vanessa who helps him to his room, if you know what I mean.”

  “Uh, no. What do you mean?”

  “Duh. They hook up.”

  “Charlie and Vanessa? Are you sure?”

  “Yes. It's what your generation calls being friends with benefits,” Dawn replied, making quotation marks with her fingers. “I walked in on them once while they were being 'friends'. It's so gross for older people to be doing that stuff. I was really glad when Brent agreed to get rid of them.”

  “Get rid of who?”

  “Aren't you listening? Vanessa and Charlie, of course. Kristi has to go, too. I think Charlie is stealing money from Brent or something anyway, but I told Brent I wouldn't marry him if he didn't get rid of them all. It's just weird that he has his exes hanging around anyway, like zombies in a horror movie. I don't want to feel like I'm living in a senior citizens home.“

  “But Vanessa is his agent and Kristi is his editor. Wouldn't he need them?”

  “Oh, Brent could have gotten another agent. Vanessa wasn't doing a good job anyway. He was always complaining about how long it was taking her to make the Dirk Nightshade movie happen. And what's so special about Kristi? Editors are easy to find. They even have computer programs that can do that stuff now. As for Charlie, Brent just used him to make his will and to write up contracts and all that, but you can get a will kit anywhere for, like, twenty dollars, so why pay Charlie?” Dawn sighed. “There were so many things that I wanted to say to Brent but now he's gone and now I can't.”

  “I'm sorry,” I said, “but I'm sure he knew that you loved him.”

  “Oh, yeah, that stuff. But what I mean is that since Vanessa is already talking with some streaming service about making a series out of Brent's books, I wanted to tell him to see if she could arrange for us to have our wedding on TV. Kim Kardashian did that, you know. I did a video of my 'bikini haul and try on' and I got almost 20,000 views so I'm sure there would be a big audience for my wedding. It's so irritating that Brent had to pass on when he did. I think he would have loved the idea of having our wedding on TV.”

  At first I was stunned by how self-centered she sounded, but when I thought about it for a moment I realized that she was probably right. Brent would have been thrilled with the idea of having his wedding televised and would have wildly over-estimated the size of the audience that would be interested in viewing it. Maybe he and Dawn weren't all that mismatched after all.

  I couldn't think of any more questions to ask, which was good since Dawn was focused on her phone again. It seemed like a good idea to hang around the pool for a while longer so it wouldn't look as if I were just there to question her, although I doubted that she would notice anyway. I didn't want to risk my life by swimming any more with Dawn within a mile of me, so I texted my Mom to see how things were going. I instantly regretted it. Mom doesn't like to text, so she called me back immediately.

  “I was just going to call you,” she said. “Your Dad found an opening for you teaching calculus out in a nice high school in the suburbs. It pays more than any of your other teaching jobs did. The thing is that you'll need to fly back here tomorrow to have an interview so you'll need to make your airline reservations right away.”

  “Mom, you surely know that I couldn't possibly know how to teach calculus. Don't you remember that you had to get me a tutor so I could pass pre-algebra?”

  “But you were only 14, now you're 32. I've read that IQ increases every year.”

  “Maybe so,” I replied, “but my qualifications to teach math haven't. Don't worry about finding me a job. I'll be home in a couple of weeks and I'll have plenty of time.”

  “Well, there's something else you need to know,” Mom said. “I ran into Walter's mother at the bank this morning and she sort of hinted that he and his new girlfriend aren't getting along too well. He may be coming home for a visit without her. What would you think about seeing him again?”

  What would I think about seeing the world's worst jackass again?

  “Sorry, Mom, I can't hear you... didn't charge my phone last night … talk to you later,” I said. I love my Mom but on occasions like this one I was happy to be 1,000 miles away from her. I decided I had spent enough time at the pool so I said, “See ya,” to Dawn, who didn't respond, and I headed back to the RV. I showered to get the chlorine and nail polish out of my hair, pulled on shorts and a tee shirt and checked the fridge to see if I had anything to eat.

  When I opened the fridge I saw a food container and a box with a hair straightener in it. I had a good idea who had put it there so I texted a picture of it to Nick with a question mark. He texted me back: “Had to ferry some folks over to GH Isle. Found a beauty salon that sold hair straighteners. Also Bahamian conch salad. Thought you might like to try it. BTW, still have RV key. Want to give it back in person so murderer doesn't find it & do you in.”

  I texted back: “LOL. Will straighten murderer's hair before they do me in so you'll know whodunit. Thanks so much for salad. ” I almost ended my text with a heart like I usually do with friends, but I used a happy day face instead. I didn't want to scare off the dashing Captain Delaney as long as he kept me supplied with conch salad. If this was his idea of a peace offering, it worked for me. I got out a bag of the bagel chips and a glass of milk and sat down to try the conch salad.

  I had just polished off the last of it when my phone rang. It was Aunt Sam. “Teri, Dodie has made some of the world's greatest clam chowder and it's ready now if you want to come over.”

  I was sort of full, but clam chowder is just soup, so I figured I would have room for more. Plus, I needed to talk to Aunt Sam and let her know what I had learned from Dawn. When I got to the kitchen I found out that Dodie's clam chowder couldn't be classified as “just soup”. It was a thick creamy concoction made with bacon, onions, garlic, fresh corn, celery, yellow, red and green peppers, potatoes and clams that had been steamed open in white wine. It was incredible, and I ate until my stomach was crying “uncle”. No problem though, because after I told Aunt Sam what Dawn had said, I planned to laze around on the back veranda and listen to music. I had plenty of time to digest.

  “How did your talk with Dawn go?” asked Aunt Sam.

  “Well, I'm convinced that Dawn is either a great actress or she's dumb as a box of rocks,” I said. “Personally, I think it's the latter. If she could act that well, she would be in Hollywood, not dating Brent Maxwell.”

  “That was certainly the impression she gave me, too.” Aunt Sam replied, nodding.

  “She did tell me that Vanessa and Charlie have been having an affair, though,” I continued. “Nothing too serious. More like a friends with benefits kind of thing.”

  “I'm not surprised. Over the years, I got the feeling they might be more than just business associates. What else did Dawn say?”

  “She said that she had convinced Brent to fire Vanessa and Kristi. Do you think that could be true? It seems like he needed them.”

  “It does seem hard to believe, but it could be true. People in love do foolish things, especially in the case of an older man who wants to keep a much younger woman happy. Either way it certainly gives Vanessa a powerful motive for murder. Maybe you should question her next.”

  “Does there seem much point in that?” I asked. “Vanessa and Kristi are the only two people that have an actual alibi for the time of the murder. We all heard them arguing in the library.”

  “Yes, but don't forget Charlie. He doesn't have an alibi and we've just found out that he and Vanessa are involved. What if Vanessa created a distraction by arguing loudly with Kristi while Charlie went out the front door, sneaked up the back stairs and murdered Brent? Charlie could then have come back downstairs, went back in the front door and flopped down on the sofa, pretending to be more drunk than he really was.”

  I hadn't considered the possibility of Vanessa having an accomplice, but the more I thought about it, the more Aunt Sam's idea seemed plausible. “I see what you mean,” I said. “I can talk with Vanessa. Do you have any idea where she is now?”

  “Yes,” said Aunt Sam. “She has a strict exercise routine. She's already done her yoga before lunch and she'll be starting her bike ride around the island at one o'clock exactly, which is...” she looked at her watch, “about 10 minutes from now. You could bike with her, make conversation and casually ask her some questions.”

  My overly full stomach felt rebellious. “Or I could wait till she gets back and talk then.”

  “After Vanessa gets back she closes herself in her room and makes her business phone calls until it's time for dinner,” said Aunt Sam. “This is really your best chance to talk with her.”

  “But I don't have a bike.”

  “Of course not; neither does Vanessa. I keep several nice bikes available for the guests to use. They're in the shed back by the fruit grove. Choose any one you like although the Tour de France bike is just a souvenir. It's not really suitable for the roads around here.”

  “Really? A souvenir of what?”

  “Why, the Tour de France, of course.”

  “Yes, I mean, did you ride in the Tour de France?”

  “No, this bike was ridden by a young man I knew.”

  “Knew as in...?”

  “You're going to miss Vanessa if you don't go now.”

  Reluctantly I made my way back to the shed and picked out a bike. I tried to remember the last time I had ridden one. High school, maybe? This... should be interesting. I was a little early, so I made my way to the end of the driveway and waited for Vanessa to arrive. I didn't have to wait long. As she rolled down the driveway on her bike I saw that she was wearing a racing helmet, goggles, a brightly colored spandex bodysuit and special shoes. This lady was definitely hard core.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked, looking me up and down.

  “Going for a bike ride,” I said.

  “Did you just finish?”

  “No, I'm just about to start.”

  “Then why are you just standing here?” she asked.

  That was a good question. Too bad I didn't have a good answer.

  “I was, uh, just looking at this tree by the driveway trying to determine what kind it is. I'm not from around here and I've never seen one like it before.”

  Vanessa glanced at the tree. “Since it's obviously covered with about a hundred star fruit, you might just be able to figure it out if you put your mind to it,” she said as she rode off.

  I hustled to catch up with her. She was riding fast and my calf muscles were already signaling to me that it might have been a good idea to warm up before I started. This was going to by tricky. I needed to question Vanessa, but she was a lot smarter than Dawn. I'd have to try and fit the questions in as part of a friendly conversation, and “friendly” and “Vanessa” didn't seem like two words that went together well.

  “Do you bike everyday?” I asked. “I mean, is it a part of your exercise routine?”

  “I bike, swim or jog for a certain amount of time everyday,” Vanessa replied.

  “Biking, swimming, jogging? Are you training to be a triathlete?”

  “No, I don't want to be a triathlete, I just want to look like one.”

  “I'm so sorry about what happened to Brent. It must have come as quite a shock to all of you.”

  “Possibly not to all of us. The heiress seems to be taking it well.”

  “You mean Dawn? I was talking to her down by the pool this morning. She was making a video for her online followers. A lot of people deal with their grief by plunging back into work. Of course, she might be in shock.”

  “I'm in shock that she even took her eyes off her phone long enough to have a conversation with you. I suppose it was about video games. You two are probably at the same level in Angry Chickens or whatever her latest distraction is.”

  “No, actually she was talking about you. She seems to think that Brent wanted to fire you.”

  “Dawn seemed to think?” Vanessa said in mock amazement. “I didn't know that single cell life forms were capable of conceptualizing! I hope you recorded it for science.”

  “So he didn't want to fire you?” I persisted.

  “Brent couldn't have fired me even if he had wanted to. I wasn't just his agent, I was practically his mother. The world may think that Brent Maxwell was a brilliant and talented man, but it didn't take me long to learn that he was a boy in a grown-up's body. He was too busy drinking and womanizing to be concerned with handling his money, career, or even his personal life. I managed his finances, promoted his books, scheduled his book signings and interviews, and then made sure that he actually showed up for them. I did everything for him except wipe his butt, and if he hadn't got himself killed, I would have eventually ended up doing that, too.

  “If precious little Dawn is trying to throw suspicion on me to deflect it from herself, you can tell her that your hick sheriff has already eliminated me as a suspect. Kristi and I were having one of our 'intellectual debates' at the time of Brent's death. I think that's what's known as having an alibi.”

  “But Charlie doesn't have an alibi,” I said.

  “So? What does that have to do with me?”

  “Dawn told me that you and Charlie are lovers.”

  Vanessa laughed. “And you believed that bubble-headed bimbo?”

  Vanessa had begun to pull away from me. Or was I falling behind? I had been so preoccupied with my questions, I hadn't noticed that the road was sloping up a steep hill. Actually it was probably more of a gentle grade, but it seemed pretty steep at that moment. Vanessa mounted the hill effortlessly, but I was struggling to keep my bike moving forward. I was clearly not in shape for this kind of workout. Everything below my knees was either numb or on fire, and my lungs felt like they were going to burst out of my back any minute. Flailing with my rubbery legs, I somehow managed to reach the top and coast down the other side, finally catching up with Vanessa, who seemed oblivious to my near-death experience.

  “Well,” I panted, “I did overhear the two of you talking in the kitchen the night of the party. Charlie told you that Brent suspected him of embezzling and you told him that you would fix it. I doubt that Charlie would have confided in you or expected you to help him if the two of you weren't in some kind of relationship.”

  “You're as nosy as Dawn is dumb,” said Vanessa.

  “Then you are in a relationship with Charlie?”

  “I wouldn't call it a relationship. Charlie is useful to me professionally and occasionally personally. But if I were going to kill Brent, he's the last person I would choose as an accomplice. He doesn't have the nerve or the sobriety to stand up to the pressure.”

  “So you don't think Charlie had anything to do with Brent's murder?”

  “I didn't say that Charlie didn't kill Brent. I just said I wasn't his accomplice.”

  I was trying to think of what else I could ask Vanessa about Charlie when she said, “You know, you're not very good at this.”

  “Good at what?” I asked, puzzled.

  “Playing amateur detective. I'm a lot better at it than you are. Try this for a scenario: You thought that coming down here with your curly hair and a boob job would attract Brent. When it didn't work and you realized that he was only interested in a one-night stand, you lost your temper and killed him. You had access to all the room keys. Now you're trying to find someone else to take the blame. Well, it won't work with me!” As she turned her bike around to head back toward the B&B, Vanessa kicked my front tire and sent the bike and me sprawling in the dusty road. “Oops, sorry!” She tapped her watch. “I'd love to help, but I'm on a time schedule and I have to get back.”

  As I lay in the road, watching Vanessa's bike disappear into the distance, my thoughts were jumbled. I had never had a boob job so what she said was sort of flattering, and she made a good point about someone having a key so they could get into Brent's room, and she possibly would have taken me more seriously if my hair was straightened, and finally, I thought I would just lie here in the road for a while until I could conjure up the energy to ride the stupid bike all the way back to the B&B.