When Greg’s interview was over, he returned white-faced and tight-lipped. He gave Hannah a feeble smile and suggested he drive her and her mother to their hotel. They could come back for their car in the morning.

  “Sorry,” Bland said. “The detectives’ instructions are that no one’s to leave until they’re finished.”

  “I’m not proposing we flee the state,” Greg snapped. “Mrs. Hill is clearly tired and she needs to rest.”

  “Sorry,” Bland repeated. “The detectives might have follow-up questions.”

  “We’re all tired,” Sophia said. “Why, poor Regina is positively exhausted. She’s aged ten years since this all began. But we’ll do whatever we have to do to help the police. I would have thought you’d want to do so also, Gregory.”

  Jenny laid a hand on Greg’s arm. “It’s all right, dear. I’m fine.”

  Éclair visited everyone in turn, hoping for scratches and admiration. Only Hannah and Samantha obliged, and eventually the dog took a place on the carpet next to Rose’s chair. Robbie bristled at the new arrival, but didn’t object further, and Éclair settled down, while keeping a watchful eye on her nemesis.

  I leaned over and whispered in Rose’s ear. “If you want to go to bed, I’ll stay with them and make sure everything’s locked up when they leave.”

  “Thank you, love, but no. The tension in this room is most entertaining.”

  “As you like, Madame Blanc,” I said.

  She began to raise one eyebrow in question before she got the reference. She grinned. “I rather like that.”

  I amused myself by cleaning up the dining room. “Does anyone want to take the rest of this food with them?”

  “Leave it,” Ivan said. “No better breakfast than leftover Chinese food.”

  “We have other guests staying here,” I said. “I need to set this room to rights.”

  Hannah stood up. “Let me help you, Lily. We’ve made such a mess. I’m sorry.”

  “I can manage,” I said.

  “Please, I’d like to.”

  The room was once again clean and tidy, properly set for breakfast, when Redmond and Williams came into the dining room. They’d spoken to Samantha last, but when her interview was finished they hadn’t come with her. I’d strained my ears as best I could whenever I happened to stroll casually past the still-closed doors to the drawing room on my way to the kitchen, but I could hear nothing other than the low murmur of voices.

  Redmond said something to Bland and she gave the detective a sharp nod of acknowledgment. The three police officers crossed the room, every eye on them, and stopped in front of Jenny Hill.

  Hannah sucked in a breath and threw a terrified look at Greg. Greg rose slowly to his feet.

  “Jennifer Hill,” Williams said. “We’d like you to accompany us to the station, please.”

  “What’s this about?” Greg said. “If you have more questions, surely they can wait until a decent hour.”

  “Please,” Detective Redmond said.

  “Are you saying she killed my son?” Regina asked.

  “We are saying nothing,” Redmond said. “We have further questions for Mrs. Hill that can be asked at the police station.”

  Jenny’s eyes were wide with fear. “I . . . I don’t know . . .”

  Hannah leapt to her feet with such force her chair fell over. “What did you say to them, you miserable old bat?” She thrust a finger toward Sophia. “You’ve always had it in for us.”

  “Hold on there,” Ivan said.

  “You, you’re no better than the rest of them. Greedy, grasping bunch of—”

  “Please, Hannah,” Greg said.

  “They’re a pack of liars,” Hannah yelled at the police. “Every last one of them. The only Reynolds with an ounce of decency is Greg. You can’t believe anything they say. Any of them.”

  Bland laid her hand on Jenny’s arm. Hannah swatted at it.

  “Careful there, miss,” Williams said.

  Greg put his arms around Hannah and edged her away. A weeping Samantha got to her feet and wrapped them both in a hug.

  I looked around the room, studying them all. The slightest of smiles touched the edges of Sophia’s mouth. Ivan’s face was impassive. Regina shook her head. Rose’s eyes were wide with shock. Both Éclair and Robbie felt the tension in the room, and had risen to their feet.

  “Does Mrs. Hill need a lawyer?” Greg asked.

  “That is up to her, of course,” Redmond replied. “But it might be advisable.”

  “Can we come with you, to the police station?”

  “You can follow,” she said. “Let’s go, Mrs. Hill. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

  I was pleased that Bland didn’t put handcuffs on Jenny. She gave Hannah one last, long look and then allowed the cop to lead her away. Her head was high and her steps firm. She couldn’t help herself from throwing a look at Sophia as they passed. The other woman had the grace to dip her head.

  “I’m calling you a cab,” Greg said to Hannah. “Sam, you look after Hannah. I’m going after them, and I’ll contact our family lawyer on the way.”

  “I want to come with you,” Hannah said.

  “No. Please. I’ll keep you posted. Promise. Sam?”

  “We’ll be okay,” Samantha said. “Go.”

  “Family lawyer?” Ivan said. “I hardly think Dad’s lawyer can be asked to represent his murderer. Alleged murderer.”

  “Thanks for your support, bro,” Greg said. “Always knew I could count on you.”

  “I’ll call the cab,” I said, pulling out my phone.

  “Thanks,” he said. “We’ll wait on the porch.” He put his arm around Hannah and together he and Samantha helped her from the room. I made the call as I followed them, conscious of the eyes of the Reynolds family on us. The taxi driver said he’d be here in ten minutes.

  “If there’s anything we can do . . .” I said to Greg.

  “Thanks. I’m sure it’s nothing. My mother, and my grandmother, tend to exaggerate sometimes.”

  “My mother,” Hannah said fiercely, “is not a murderer. The idea’s ridiculous.”

  “The cops will soon realize that, babe,” he said.

  Once again heads were popping out of doorways. A couple of guests stood at the top of the stairs, dressed in their nightwear, peering down. The bridge women clustered at the door to the room occupied by two of them. They must have been playing while listening to what was going on. They were still dressed, and Sheila held her cards in her hand.

  “Can I be of assistance to anyone?” I said in a loud voice.

  The people at the top of the stairs slipped away.

  “No,” Marie said. “We’re fine. Come on, girls. I do believe I said three clubs.” They also faded away.

  “Ghouls,” Samantha said.

  “People are curious,” I replied.

  We stepped outside into the fresh night air. Headlights swept down the driveway, and at first I thought the taxi had been quick to arrive. But Jack was at the wheel, and McKenzie Reynolds leapt out before he brought the car to a complete stop. Dave followed her.

  “What’s happening now?” McKenzie yelled. “Where’s Jenny going with the cops? Is everyone okay? Greg, where’s Mom and Grandma? Hannah, why are you crying?”

  “Shut up, McKenzie,” Greg snapped. “Just go inside, will you.”

  “No need to take that tone with me, brother. I’ve a right to ask, you know.” She turned to me. “You. What’s going on here?”

  I didn’t bother to answer.

  “Greg?” Dave asked.

  Greg shook his head.

  “Leave it, Mac,” Jack said. “Let’s go inside.”

  “But—”

  “Come on. All the lights are on, so I bet some of your family are still up.”

  Reluctantly, McKenzie followed him inside. Dave spoke to Greg in a low voice, and Greg quickly filled him in.

  “Do you need me to come with you?” Dave asked.

  “Yeah, that might be an idea. Thanks.”

  A few minutes later another set of lights turned off the highway into our driveway. Greg helped Hannah into the taxi, Samantha ran around the car and got in the other side. Greg didn’t wait for it to pull away before sprinting to his own car, Dave hot on his heels.

  I went back into the house. The dining room door was open and I could hear McKenzie’s piercing voice demanding to know what was going on.

  I took my phone out again and went into the kitchen to make a call in private.

  It rang several times before being answered. “What! What! What’s happening?”

  “It’s Lily here.”

  “I know it’s Lily,” Bernie said. “I can see your name on the display. Do you know what time it is? I just got to bed.”

  “Time? It’s ten after ten.”

  “Yeah, well I had a long day. What’s up?”

  “Be here tomorrow morning. Six thirty sharp. We have a case.”

  Chapter 15

  I’d called Bernie on the spur of the moment, but over the rest of the long night, as I tossed and turned, and Éclair snored lightly beside me, I decided it had been the right thing to do.

  I liked Jenny. I liked Hannah. I tend to think of myself as anything but a romantic person. Maybe my previous relationships, the last most of all, cured me of that. But I liked the connection between Hannah and Greg. The couple were obviously truly in love, and it was no fault of theirs that their families had problems going back decades.

  I couldn’t think of a worse start to a marriage than the mother of one part of the couple being sent to prison for the murder of the father of the other.

  Thanksgiving dinner at their house would not be a pleasant affair.

  If I could help Greg and Hannah, and Jenny, in any way I could, then I would.

  Not that I had the slightest idea where to start, but I was confident that Bernie would.

  * * *

  “I’ll start with a deep dive into Ralph Reynolds’s business affairs,” Bernie said as she sliced bananas. “This looks, on the surface, to be a personal killing, but if he was into shady practices, involved with shady characters, he might have found himself on the wrong side of one of those shady characters. And, as has been pointed out previously, anyone could have slipped into the house and up to Ralph’s room. Did he think said shady character was calling to offer his congratulations and invite the guy in for a drink?”

  “Ralph would have had to be mighty dumb to do that.”

  “One thing I learned in my previous job: there is no bottom to the level of stupidity to which some people will drop.”

  Bernie had been waiting for me by the kitchen door of the B & B when Éclair and I arrived at five minutes after six. As I put the coffee on and got baking ingredients out of the cupboards, and set Bernie to work, I explained the goings-on of the previous night.

  “You should have told me to come over,” my friend said. “I am, as you know, a keen observer of human nature. I would have been able to tell immediately who the guilty party is by a twitch of their eyebrow at an inappropriate moment.”

  “You keep telling yourself that, Bernie,” Edna said. “Those pieces of banana are too big. Cut them finer. And don’t eat them all or we won’t have enough.”

  Edna also had news to share this morning. Her husband, Frank, was editor-in-chief of the North Augusta Times. The paper had reported Ralph’s death, and that the police were investigating. They hadn’t yet called it murder but, she told us, they would use that word this morning. “Jenny Hill wasn’t arrested. Simply brought in for questioning. They kept her most of the night, and then released her to her prospective son-in-law about an hour ago. She’s been ordered not to leave North Augusta.”

  “Does Frank have any idea what they have on her?” Bernie asked. “They must have something to go on. Of all the potential suspects, Jenny’s the only one deserving of extra . . . attention, shall we say.”

  “Not that he told me.” Edna loaded her tray with cereal boxes and individual containers of yoghurt to lay out in the dining room. “What do you know, Lily?”

  “Nothing except Jenny and Ralph have a complicated, but not all that unusual, history and some people have a nebulous idea she wanted revenge for something that happened a long time ago. I can’t believe Amy Redmond would arrest her—”

  “Bring her in for further questioning,” Edna said.

  “That. On such vague grounds. Must be something more.”

  “Not necessarily,” Bernie said. “Questioning means just that. Ask questions. Hope for answers that will lead you to another, more important question. And so on from there.”

  “How many people are we expecting for breakfast, Lily?” Edna asked.

  “I’ve no idea, so let’s plan on them all coming down. Fortunately, we’ve nothing special requested for today.”

  Rose’s nightly note had said, “nothing,” meaning no individual requests, which I was always pleased to see.

  I poured blueberry muffin batter into the prepared baking cups, and sprinkled a mixture of sugar and nutmeg on the top to give them a nice crunchy texture.

  “Mornin’ all.” Simon came into the kitchen as I was slipping the sheet into the hot oven. “Looks like it’s going to be another nice day. Hey, Bernie, what brings you here so early?” He headed for the coffeepot.

  Behind his back, I gave Bernie a quick shake of the head.

  “Couldn’t sleep,” she said. “I’m stuck in the middle of this book, unsure of how to propel it forward. I’m at what we writers call the soggy middle. I want to talk some plot points over with Lily, and what better time to catch her than when she’s making breakfast.”

  He added a generous amount of cream to his coffee and stirred two heaping spoonfuls of sugar into it. “Me mum’s a keen mystery reader. Can’t get enough of the stuff. The darker and grimmer the better.”

  “Your sainted mother is no help to me now, is she?” Bernie said with a grin. “Being in England and all.”

  Simon gave me a quick kiss on the cheek. “It’s going to be a mighty hot day, so I want to get some of the heavy work in early. I’ll take this with me this morning. I’ll bring the mug back later to exchange for one of those muffins.”

  He left.

  Edna stared open-mouthed at Bernie. “You are one heck of a good liar.”

  “I am indeed.” Bernie preened. “Why didn’t you want him to know what’s going on, Lily? Simon’s been of help to us in the past.”

  “I’ll admit that’s true. But, well you know what men are like. Wanting to rush to the rescue and all that. It’s . . . different now. Now that we’re sort of semi-involved. Kinda.”

  Bernie rolled her eyes. “Sounds like a lifetime commitment to me. Make up your mind, Lily. Men like Simon don’t come along every day.”

  “I agree with Bernie about that,” Edna said. “He’ll be angry if he finds out you deliberately shut him out. But that’s your affair. Back to the point at hand, as Jenny Hill was not arrested for the murder, but simply brought in for questioning, in the presence of a hastily summoned lawyer, the paper will not be mentioning any names. If she is arrested, that will change.”

  “Fair enough,” I said.

  “Unfortunately, the paper did have to say where this death took place. Victoria-on-Sea. Fortunately, the story’s not getting a lot of traction. The Reynoldses and Hills are not from around here. Locals don’t care and tourists have other things on their mind than following the small-town news.”

  “Thank heavens for small mercies,” Bernie said. “Okay, that’s the fruit cut. You will note the perfection of the small slices. My work here is done. I’m going home to get stuck in and find out what I can about the family. Families.”

  “Earlier, I overheard Sophia say something about Jenny’s late husband dying suddenly,” I said. “She tried to imply Jenny might have had something to do with it. Maybe you can look into that.”

  “I thought we were trying to clear Jenny. Not dig up more evidence against her.”

  “I’d like to help her, if she’s innocent. If she’s not . . .”

  “When did that happen?” Edna asked. “His death, I mean.”

  “Hannah was ten when her father died. Must have been twenty some years ago.”

  “I can get Frank’s summer intern onto that,” Edna said. “If the death didn’t get much press, if any, and it was twenty years ago there won’t be a lot to find. Their local paper might have something in their records.”

  “That’ll be a help, thanks.” Bernie washed her hands at the sink.

  Voices came from the dining room as the first breakfast guests arrived.

  “Meanwhile, the task of feeding people never ends.” Edna slipped out to see to them.

  I dropped sausages into the frying pan.

  The next sound I heard was the rapid tap tap tap of a cane making its way down the hallway. A moment later, the door opened, and Robert the Bruce flew across the room to land in the center of the table. Under the table, Éclair leapt to her feet with a bark. Robbie hissed in return. He then sniffed at the fruit bowl. I picked him up and put him on the floor.

  “Morning, love,” Rose said. “Bernadette.”

  “What are you doing up so early?” I asked suspiciously. Not only was she up, but Rose was dressed for the day in a pair of loose purple pants under an orange T-shirt decorated with yellow and green flowers. Her makeup had been applied and her iron-gray hair arranged into stiff spikes. An aura of heavily applied perfume and too much hair spray fought with the kitchen scents of fresh baking and sizzling sausages.

  My grandmother and my friend gave me identical innocent smiles.

  “Despite your continued declaration that we were not going to get involved,” Rose said, “I assumed you’d want to help Jenny Hill. If only for her daughter’s sake. You have a romantic streak in you after all, love.”

  “I have nothing of the sort. I don’t want to see an innocent woman railroaded. That’s all.”

  “Not that Detective Redmond is likely to allow anyone to be railroaded,” Rose said.