“Agreed. You close at six tonight, right? How about seven at the restaurant at the Harbor Inn? No shop talk.”

  “Promise.”

  “Okay if I meet you there?”

  “See you then.”

  * * *

  I parked in the alley behind the Emporium and went into the tearoom by the back door. I stuck my head in the kitchen as I passed. The big black industrial mixer was whirling away while Jayne stirred a pot on the stove, and Fiona iced a cake. In season, Mrs. Hudson’s offers a proper traditional afternoon tea, complete with fine china cups and plates, linens, silver cutlery, loose-leaf teas, freshly baked scones with local jam and clotted cream, tiny sandwiches, and bite-sized sweets. Over the winter, tea is only on the menu on weekends, and the focus of the restaurant is more on baked goods for breakfast and hearty lunches of soup and sandwiches. Desserts for takeaway as well as dine-in feature on the menu year-round.

  “All okay here?” I asked.

  “All okay,” Jayne answered. “I’ve just gotten back from the police station, where I gave my statement about last night.”

  “Jayne forgot,” Fiona said. “Detective Estrada had to phone and ask where she was. That woman absolutely terrifies me, and I’ve done nothing wrong. If I’d been Jayne, I would have fled to Mexico.”

  “I couldn’t go to Mexico,” Jayne said. “The cupcakes weren’t made yet, and we have a big order for tomorrow. A hundredth birthday party at the retirement home.”

  “Did Estrada say anything about the direction of their inquiries?”

  Jayne didn’t bother to look up. “You know her. She asks the questions and shares nothing. Oh, Mom wants to know how you’re coming with the place settings for the dinner.”

  “Place settings?”

  Jayne finally did look up. “The little cards with people’s names on them? The ones to go on the tables, telling people where to sit at the wedding dinner? The little cards that match the master seating plan you also volunteered to prepare?”

  “Oh, right. Those place settings. I’m on it.”

  “Gemma, if you can’t manage those things, please tell me in enough time for me to do it.”

  “I’m good. Talk to you later.”

  I ran into the Emporium. The shop was surprisingly busy as people browsed or gathered at the sales counter to pay for their purchases. “Where do you buy little cards?” I used my hands to indicate to Ashleigh the size I wanted. “For place settings at formal dinners?”

  “The stationary store, I guess.”

  “I am so looking forward to that author visit next week.” A customer flourished her about-to-be-purchased book. “I’ve adored all her books, and I can’t wait to have this signed.”

  I winced. “About that …”

  Once the customers had been served and no one else seemed to need our attention, I said to Ashleigh, “Would you like to earn some extra money?”

  “By doing Jayne’s seating cards? Sure.”

  “How’d you know …? Never mind. Leslie and Andy’s mom did up a document about who’s coming and who’s to sit with who. And most importantly, who is not to sit with who. With whom. I’ll forward it to you. We need pretty little name cards for every place and a master sheet on some sort of Bristol board to hang on the wall to direct people.”

  “Shall I sign it with your signature like forged art?”

  “Not necessary. They’ll be so surprised it got done, they won’t ask.”

  “On it,” she said. Then her expression drooped.

  “Is something wrong?” I asked. “Problems while I was out?”

  “Weeelll, sorta.” Ashleigh looked around, and seeing no customers approaching, she said in a low voice, “Bunny has a date tonight. With George, the guy she met at Jayne’s party.”

  “Why is that a problem? He seemed nice enough.”

  “I don’t trust him. It was only when he found out who she was—who she had been—that he started getting interested.”

  “And?”

  “And? I hope he doesn’t think Bunny has money. Is that why he asked her out? Supposedly he’s taking her to one of his own restaurants. In Hyannis, she said. He’s showing off.”

  “Most men like to show off to women they’ve recently met. So what if he thinks she has money? If they get closer, he’ll soon realize such is not the case, and it will be up to him whether to continue seeing her or not. Although I get your point that she might find it hard to take if he ends up dumping her.”

  “It’s happened before. Everyone she meets thinks because she was a big pop star, she’s got to be loaded. Poor Bunny, things didn’t quite work out that way. Sometimes when they realize how simply she lives now, rather than understanding and accepting it, people assume she’s deliberately slumming it, trying to live like one of the common people, seeking inspiration for a new album.”

  “You’re worrying about nothing, Ashleigh. I agree Bunny’s feelings might be hurt if George is only after her for her money and/or connections. But seeing as she has no money to be swindled out of, she can’t be swindled out of it. Bunny’s a grown woman, and she’s been around the block more than a few times. Let her enjoy a nice dinner out at a good restaurant with a man she finds interesting.”

  Ashleigh gave me a reluctant grin. “I suppose you’re right. Maybe I’m so new to this daughter business at my advanced age, I’m acting more like Bunny’s mother.”

  “You care, and that’s what matters,” I said.

  * * *

  Risking incurring the wrath of the proprietor of Beach Fine Arts, located across from me at 221 Baker Street and always on the lookout for the slightest infraction of the street’s business code, I dared to close the Emporium at quarter to six. I went home, where I had just enough time to let the dogs have a romp in the yard, serve up their dinners, and get myself ready to enjoy a night out. Ryan had only been gone a week, but I’d missed him enormously, and I was greatly looking forward to our date.

  Yes, I’d seen him today, but a police investigation doesn’t count as a romantic encounter.

  I opened my closet and reached for my favorite dress. Then I remembered. It had been drenched in sea water, rolled up into a bundle, stuffed into an evidence bag, and was now in the depths of some police evidence locker. Likely never to be seen again, which was okay with me; if I ever did get it back, it would be in no condition to appear in public.

  Instead, I put on a pair of jeans with a crisp white blouse and a cropped dark blue leather jacket, added blue glass earrings and a matching necklace, and called for a ride.

  Precisely at seven o’clock, as I was stepping out of the cab, my phone buzzed. I groaned. Life with a cop.

  Ryan: Sorry. Something came up. I’ll be delayed. Not too long. Hope.

  Me: Good thing I brought a book.

  My father is a retired officer with the Metropolitan Police; long ago, I learned from my mother not to go anywhere with a cop without bringing along a good book.

  I didn’t mind, as long as Ryan wasn’t delayed for too long. I’d enjoy a glass of wine with my book, and hopefully (always that word), Ryan would show up in time to eat. If not, I never mind dining alone, and the restaurant at the Harbor Inn is excellent.

  The veranda is a delight in the summertime, surrounded by well-maintained gardens with a lovely view down the hill to the town and the sea beyond. Tonight, the hostess stand was set up by the indoor room. “Reservation for two for Ashburton. He’s been delayed, so I’ll relax with a drink while I’m waiting.”

  She ticked off a line on her tablet and led me into the restaurant. The place was about half full. Flames burned cheerfully in the gas fireplace against the far wall, and candles flickered on tables.

  I was about to take my seat when I spotted people I knew and excused myself to the hostess. I put on a friendly smile as I approached their table. “Audrey, Madison. Good evening.”

  They nodded politely. Menus were closed and set to one side, and they’d been served drinks. They were at a table for four. Two places had been cleared away. Unasked, and probably unwanted, I sat down. “May I join you for a few minutes? My date texted to say he’s going to be late.”

  “Uh … please do,” Audrey said.

  “Might as well,” Madison said, barely able to contain her enthusiasm.

  “I hope you enjoyed the party last night. Until … the end.” I caught the waiter’s eye. “A glass of white wine, please. A chardonnay would be nice, if you have one.”

  He nodded and slipped away.

  “It was a lovely evening,” Audrey said. “My meal was delicious.”

  “Have you been to the Cape before?” I asked Madison.

  “Never. It’s okay, I guess. But cold. I can’t imagine actually living in this climate.” She shuddered. “Me, I’m an Angeleno through and through.”

  “It was nice of you to accompany your grandmother’s friend,” I said.

  “Free holiday, why not?”

  I glanced at Audrey. Her red lips were pressed tightly together. “More than that I hope, dear. A chance for us to get to know each other better, isn’t that what you said? You know what young people’s lives are like these days, Gemma. Always so busy.”

  If Madison was able to take two or three weeks away from whatever she did, to come to a place she didn’t have much interest in with a woman she didn’t show much affection to, her life couldn’t be all that busy, I thought but didn’t say.

  “You yourself are obviously English,” Audrey said. “Did you come to America specifically to open your bookstore?”

  “My Great-Uncle Arthur bought it. Once he had it, he realized he didn’t want to own a bookshop, but he couldn’t sell it. So I came over to run it for him.”

  Madison snorted. “Family responsibilities. They get you every time.”

  “I like living with Uncle Arthur. On the rare occasion he’s home, at any rate. The shop turned out to be the right place at the right time for me.”

  “Timing,” Audrey said, “is everything. As I learned in my early days in Hollywood. I’d gone to California hoping to make it as an actress.” She smiled at the memory. “Stars in my eyes, like so many other moderately pretty young girls. I soon realized that although I had a modicum of talent, plenty of others had as much as I, if not more.”

  Madison ostentatiously smothered a yawn. Audrey pretended not to notice, but something tightened behind her eyes.

  “After a few years of tiny parts and being little more than part of the scenery, I decided if I did not want to go home to West London where I would be perceived as a failure, I needed to find another role in Hollywood. Which I am happy to say, I did.”

  “Tell her about how you snagged a big-money movie producer,” Madison said, “and started getting invited to the best parties and the big opening nights. And then how once you got your foot in that door, you got rid of him and moved on.”

  “Men have used us women for millennia to suit their own needs and their own vanity. Why should we not do the same in return? Although I have to point out Madison is mistaken. My first husband died of a heart attack a mere six months after our wedding.”

  “Which might have had something to do with the fact that he was, what, forty years older than you?”

  “Do you have a problem with enjoying Audrey’s hospitality?” I asked Madison. Okay, so Jayne’s attempts to get me to be more circumspect don’t always work.

  She blinked. “What?”

  “You’re here as her companion, a chance to get to know her better, I believe someone said. Regardless of who’s paying for a two-week stay at this hotel, with meals, transportation, and all the rest, you have a funny way of showing your affection.”

  “What’s it to you?” Madison asked.

  “Quite a bit, as I’m sitting here enjoying talking to her.”

  A spark leapt into Audrey’s eyes. “Madison speaks her mind. Not everyone appreciates hearing it—all of the time. Reminds me very much of her grandmother, which might be why she and I always got on so well. Although dear Ruth did know when to speak and when to remain quiet.”

  Indecision crossed Madison’s face. Then she took a breath as she decided she didn’t want to spar with me. (Or perhaps she didn’t want to be told to leave before she’d had her dinner.) She picked up her wine glass, finished the contents in one long swallow, and looked around for the waiter.

  “Instead of being nothing more than another in a long line of failed actresses, you made your mark as a gossip columnist,” I said. “I bet that was fun.”

  Audrey laughed. Years dropped from her face. “Oh, yes, my dear. Fun, not to mention highly lucrative. I married four times. Despite what some—” a glare at Madison “—might think, I loved deeply. Just not for long.”

  I laughed.

  The waiter placed a glass in front of me, and I smiled my thanks. Madison tapped the top of her own glass. “Madam?” he asked Audrey.

  “Not for me, thank you.” When he’d left, she said, “I was at the heart of the Hollywood social scene for almost forty years. I went to all the parties, all the premiers, all the award ceremonies. If by chance I was unavailable or not invited, I had a network of spies everywhere. Waiters at the best restaurants, staff at the exclusive clubs and the in-demand catering companies, gardening and maid services. I would have hired myself out to the CIA, if only they’d paid enough. The stories I could tell.” She laughed. “The stories I did tell. But time moved on for me, as it does for everyone. The new stars are not afraid of the studios; bad publicity won’t end a career.”

  “Sounds as though you weren’t reluctant to engage in the occasional bit of blackmail?”

  Madison snorted. Audrey stared at me, then she laughed again. “My goodness, but you are a blunt young woman. Blackmail, no. On occasion, I concealed bigger scandals out of sympathy for a wronged woman perhaps, sometimes I covered them up with smaller ones. If I ruined a marriage or two, what of it? The participants were usually better off without each other.”

  “Last night, you said you’re writing a book.”

  “I might not have the influence I once did, but I still hear things, dear. I still know the right people. Some of the wrong people too. I have many stories I never told, for one reason or another.”

  “No one cares about what happened in old-time Hollywood, Audrey,” Madison said.

  Audrey’s eyes narrowed. “You have commented upon that more than once, dear. And as I have said to you more than once, some people in the publishing world might disagree. A good number of big stars, people who are still big names, were people I knew in my day. Scandal is scandal, even more so when criminal activity might be involved, and on occasion, the passage of time only increases its newsworthiness. Is that a word: newsworthiness?”

  Audrey was clearly enjoying talking to me. If nothing else, I was a fresh audience, a welcome change from the bored, disrespectful Madison. As Audrey chatted on, I began to get the feeling she was being increasingly specific. That she was, in fact, speaking directly to me.

  Before I could dig further, my phone buzzed with a text from Ryan. “Sorry,” I said, “that’s my date.”

  Ryan: Here. Are you in restaurant?

  Me: Yes

  “He’s arrived.” I picked up my glass and stood up. “I’ve enjoyed talking to you, Audrey. You’ve led an interesting life.”

  She winked at me. “It’s not over yet. Still some life in the old girl yet.”

  “Good luck with your book.”

  “Luck? Yes, if I learned one thing in all my years in Hollywood, luck is all there is.”

  “If our food doesn’t arrive soon,” Madison said, “I might die of starvation.”

  “You do that, dear,” Audrey said. “Save me the cost of your return airfare to L.A.”

  Madison pushed her chair back. “Very funny. I’m going out for a smoke.”

  She fell into step beside me as I headed for my table. Ryan came through the doors, looking around. I gave him a wave and a big smile crossed his face. “Cute guy,” Madison said. “Good for you. Don’t bother rushing to the bookstore to put in an order for Audrey’s book. She’s been talking for ages about wanting to write one, but my mom says all she ever does is talk about it. Her so-called gossip is all way out of date. I have to say, though, I was surprised last night when she suddenly started writing right there in the restaurant while we were waiting for the cops, and she’s been hard at it all day. She didn’t even come out for lunch or to go shopping.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Gemma,” Ashleigh called, “it’s time.” Ashleigh tells me she dresses according to her mood. Today she must have been in the mood to be a West London shop clerk, as she was dressed in a perfectly normal pair of dark trousers, white shirt, and loose red cardigan. Blue lace-up trainers were on her feet. Earlier, I’d asked if she’d heard from Bunny how the date with George had gone, and she said Bunny hadn’t called her and she was afraid to ask.

  “Time?” I asked.

  “Meeting time. AKA teatime.”

  I glanced at the clock on the far wall. Thirty-eight minutes past three.

  Every afternoon at twenty to four, Jayne and I have a partners’ meeting, like the responsible business partners we are. Fortunately, we’re partners in a restaurant, so we have our meeting over tea and the remains of the day’s baking. As we are also best friends, said meeting is often nothing more than a catch-up session and, over the past few months, wedding preparation. Today, I was looking forward to telling Jayne the work on the place cards for her wedding was well under way.

  “You have the comm, Number One,” I said.

  “Star Trek! Where did that come from?”

  “I’m a woman of many and varied interests,” I said as I sailed out the door to the tearoom.

  Truth be told, although I am a woman of many and varied interests, one of them is not Star Trek. But Ryan loves the old shows, and last night after dinner he wanted to watch one. And as I love Ryan, I agreed.

  Mrs. Hudson’s closes at four, and usually by this time of day, only a few customers remain, lingering over their late lunch or midafternoon snack break while last-minute stragglers rush in for a takeout coffee or to take advantage of the end-of-day specials.