“I’ve been trying to remember, but I simply can’t. Sorry.”

  “We have feelers out to the authorities in Los Angeles, where Greene’s been living for the past five years. By all accounts, he was a successful and honest businessman. I’ve learned to be skeptical. We’re also interested in the dynamics of the TV production company and the people who work there.”

  “Josh and Scarlet were apparently not together on Tuesday night.”

  “Hotel people really do know things about their guests, don’t they?”

  “Apparently is the important word. We don’t know everything that goes on.” Jean had said Scarlet hadn’t had company that night. She’d also said Scarlet was a slob, but it wasn’t entirely beyond the bounds of possibility that she’d tidied up in the morning. “If they were together, then I might have just provided both of them with an alibi.”

  “I’ll speak to them again. They said they hadn’t gone out after returning from dinner. I don’t like it when people lie to me, but I have to admit I never actually came out and asked them if they were together at the time in question.”

  “You think someone involved in the show lured Tommy into Tea by the Sea under the pretext of wanting to talk over a detail of the filming?”

  “I think nothing. Not yet.” She popped the last of her sandwich into her mouth. “Thank you for this, Lily. The tea as well as the information. I’d like to ask you once again to stay out of it and not discuss what I told you with your grandmother and Bernie, but I fear I’d be wasting my breath.”

  I gave her a weak smile.

  She stood up. Something behind me caught her attention, and her face tightened as her eyes moved across the patio. “Other avenues of investigation are still open, and of particular interest to Detective Williams.” She walked away.

  I turned in my seat to see Cheryl taking the orders of a table for six behind me. I could tell by the set of Cheryl’s shoulders that she was well aware the police officer was walking past her.

  * * *

  The rest of the day passed uneventfully. I fell into my routine of baking, preparing sandwiches, and arranging the food. Cheryl and Marybeth ran in and out of the kitchen, shouting orders, making tea, filling their trays with fine china and attractively displayed treats, returning used dishes, and loading and unloading the dishwasher. They told me every seat was taken and we had a line waiting for tables.

  I received no urgent phone calls from either Bernie or Rose with breaking developments, for which I was grateful. I work well in my routine, and I didn’t need any “breaking developments” to interrupt the flow.

  “Good one.” Marybeth put down her load of dishes and pressed her hands into the small of her back and groaned. “I’m dead beat.”

  I glanced up from the cupcake papers I was filling with vanilla batter and said, “What time is it?”

  “Five thirty. We’ve been closed for half an hour, Lily. The dining room’s empty, but a few people are lingering outside over the last of their tea.”

  “I completely lost track of the time.”

  Scones and pastry shells for strawberry tarts were cooling on wire racks, as were chocolate chip cookies for the children’s tea. Macaron shells had been baked, and the creamy pistachio filling prepared.

  Cheryl brought in another load of dishes and started filling the dishwasher.

  “What’s the reservations book look like for tomorrow?” I asked.

  “Overwhelming,” she said. “In a good way. We had some weeping Tommy Greene fans and some morbidly curious scene-of-the-crime groupies, but less of them than yesterday. Word of the excellence of this place is spreading by word of mouth, Lily.”

  “It is,” Marybeth said. “One group of women told me they were staying in Chatham, but a friend suggested they come here for afternoon tea. They were glad they did.”

  I let that sink in for a moment. It felt good—all my hopes and dreams and hard work and the gamble of starting my own restaurant were paying off.

  I didn’t get to enjoy the feeling for long.

  The three of us started at the sound of sirens coming closer. I put down my spoon and the bowl of cupcake batter and went to the window, hoping the sirens were not heading for us.

  They were. Two police cruisers, lights flashing, sirens screaming, turned into the driveway and came to a screeching halt outside Tea by the Sea. Doors flew open, and men and women poured out.

  “What’s happening?” Marybeth said.

  A knock at the back door, followed a moment later by the sound of boots moving rapidly through the dining rooms.

  Marybeth, Cheryl, and I stared at each other.

  Before we could move, the kitchen door flew open, and Detective Chuck Williams burst in, red-faced, tie askew, coffee stain on his shirt, all puffed up with his own importance. A uniformed officer stood behind him, eyes darting around the room, hands resting on her utility belt. Two more officers came into the kitchen from the public area.

  Williams stared at us. We stared back. His face was set into serious lines, and the cop behind him wasn’t looking at all friendly. The dancing spark in Chuck Williams’s dark eyes gave me a very bad feeling.

  “Cheryl Dowd Wainwright,” he said, “I am arresting you for the murder of Thomas Greene.”

  Chapter 14

  “You’ve no idea why?” Rose said.

  “None. Marybeth went after them, and she said she’d call me when she found out what’s happening, but I’ve heard nothing yet.”

  “You don’t think—”

  “I do not,” I said firmly. “Cheryl didn’t kill Tommy. Notably, Amy Redmond wasn’t part of the arresting party. That might be significant. Chuck Williams is impulsive, not to mention lazy. Let’s hope it’s nothing more than him trying to look as though he’s being decisive, and after shouting at her for a while, he’ll let Cheryl go.”

  Rose and I were sitting on the veranda of Victoria-on-Sea. A gin and tonic rested on the table next to her. I’d declined a drink, thinking I might be needed either at the police station or at Cheryl’s or Marybeth’s house. Éclair peered through the slats of the veranda railing, on guard for squirrels or rabbits daring to invade her territory, and Robert the Bruce snoozed on Rose’s lap with one eye open.

  Unfortunately, the police had timed their arrival to coincide with B & B guests returning to their rooms after the day’s outing to get ready for dinner, and more than a few had lined the veranda to watch what was happening.

  Fortunately, it hadn’t happened for long. Cheryl was cuffed, bundled out the door, stuffed into the back of the police car, and taken away with a scream of sirens and the squeal of wheels taking the corner too fast, while Marybeth and I were still trying to gather our wits about us.

  Rose had attempted to assure her guests there was nothing to be concerned about. “A minor irregularity,” she said. No one looked all that assured, but they’d hesitantly continued with their plans.

  Bernie’s car pulled up, going almost as fast as the police vehicles had earlier, and she leapt out as though she also was taking down a murder suspect. She climbed the steps and dropped into a chair. “Any news?” Éclair wandered over to give her a sniff, and she absentmindedly rubbed the dog’s ears. Robbie closed one eye and opened the other.

  “No,” I said.

  “You don’t think—”

  “No. I do not think.”

  “Okay.”

  “Drink, love?” Rose said.

  “Sure.”

  “You know where it is.”

  Bernie pushed herself to her feet and raised one eyebrow at me. I shook my head, and she went into the house. As she came back, carrying a glass of white wine, Simon’s motorcycle turned into the driveway. Instead of heading toward us, it veered off onto Matt Goodwill’s property, and I remembered that Simon and Matt had made plans to work together on Matt’s house.

  “The police didn’t say anything about why they were taking Cheryl in?” Bernie asked.

  “Not to me. I considered going to the police station to be with Marybeth, but it’s up to her to ask for my help, if she wants it.”

  “Perhaps you should go, anyway,” Rose said. “Marybeth has young children. She can’t hang around the police station all night.”

  “Are Josh, Scarlet, and Claudia still in residence?” Bernie asked.

  “They are,” Rose said. “Josh went into town some time ago, supposedly to meet with Reilly and the crew and talk things over. Scarlet didn’t go with him. She called a cab shortly before noon and hasn’t returned. As for Claudia . . .” Rose’s voice trailed off.

  “What about Claudia?” I asked.

  “She spends what seems to me to be an inordinate amount of time in her room.” Rose dropped her voice to a near whisper, and Bernie and I leaned forward to hear. “It’s not my place to tell her she needs to get some fresh air, but it is summer in Cape Cod, and the weather has been perfect these past few days. If she doesn’t feel like venturing far, I’d think she’d at least sit outside to catch a breath of air, or go for a short walk.”

  “Might she be ill?” I asked.

  “As you know, love, I don’t like to interfere in my guests’ stay here, but I was concerned enough to knock on her door earlier. I asked if she needed anything, and she said she was fine.”

  “Did it sound like she’d been crying?” I asked. “Maybe she’s grieving more for Tommy than anyone realizes?”

  “Not crying, no, but she was sharp with me. Prior to knocking, I just happened to overhear her talking on the phone.” Rose touched her hair with one hand, stroked a purring Robbie with the other, and then picked up her drink and sipped at it.

  “Feel like going into town for a burger?” I asked Bernie. “We could go for ice cream after.”

  “I’m always up for ice cream. Now that you mention it, I’m always up for a burger, too.”

  “Do you not want to hear what I overheard?” Rose sniffed.

  “I’m sure you’ll get around to telling us eventually,” I said. “No point in dragging it out.”

  Rose harrumphed. “Claudia’s voice is normally in the softer range. She’s generally gently spoken and scrupulously polite. I was able to hear clearly through the door because she was almost shouting. I’d say agitated is the word.”

  “What was she agitated about?”

  “I don’t know who she might have been speaking to, but she was wanting him . . . or her . . . to lend her money.”

  “Really?”

  “More money is the phrase she used. She told this person she needs more money and she needs it now. She did not say please.”

  “That is interesting,” I said. “She has to be fairly well off, wouldn’t you think, Bernie? With her bestselling cookbooks and her restaurants and America Bakes!”

  “Well off means different things to different people,” Bernie said. “Maybe she needs more money so she can buy herself a second yacht.”

  “She has a yacht?” Rose asked.

  “I’m speaking rhetorically. What else did you just happen to overhear her saying?”

  “Nothing. It went quiet, and I assumed she’d hung up on this person without saying good-bye. In the old days she would have slammed down the receiver.”

  “You didn’t get the name of the person she was talking to?”

  “No. I waited a suitable interval, allowing enough time to pass that it wouldn’t seem as though I’d been listening at keyholes—”

  “Although you had been doing precisely that,” I said.

  Rose waggled a bushy gray eyebrow at me. “I knocked and asked if she needed anything. She didn’t even open the door, just shouted, ‘No.’ ”

  “Perhaps,” Bernie said, “we need to expand our inquiries to include Claudia.”

  “I can ask my Manhattan contacts how her restaurants are doing,” I said. “Did you manage to learn anything about Gary Powers today?”

  “Nothing of significance. He and the mayor seem to be under the surface exactly what they are on the surface. They own their house outright, they have no major debts, they went on a nice European vacation last year, but nothing out of the ordinary for the financial situation of a dual-income couple with no children. He’s an insurance broker, as I told you earlier, and the company appears to be totally on the up-and-up.” Bernie frowned, clearly disappointed at not having found ties to organized crime or international terrorist outfits.

  “I have not much more to report,” Rose said. “I had lunch with my bridge friends, during which I appeared to be trolling for gossip—”

  “Nothing appearing about it. You were trolling for gossip,” I said.

  “In the pursuit of the greater good,” Rose replied haughtily. “That’s different. My friends, however, were keen to dish the common gossip, but nothing new was revealed. The marriage of Susan and Gary is a topic of conversation in all the best card clubs for miles around, but he has never, as far as anyone knows, been in legal trouble. Either for harassing women or financial misdealing. It’s believed he bought a share in the bakery in order to help Allegra out. Not that he particularly cares much about her, but Susan insisted. The sisters are, so I’ve been told, close. They say Susan’s the only person in the world Allegra actually likes. And that includes their mother.”

  “In that case, is there any chance Susan might have killed Tommy if she thought she was helping Allegra and the bakery?” Bernie asked.

  “I can’t see it,” I said. “But I suppose it’s possible.”

  “Anything’s possible,” Bernie said, “given the right conditions. However, I consider it unlikely. She’s the mayor. She’s under constant local observation. If she had any, shall we say, psychotic conditions, it would have come out.”

  “Susan was here on Monday, but not Tuesday,” I said. “When Tommy got angry at Marybeth.”

  “She might have heard about it,” Rose said.

  “Okay, I’m moving Susan to the bottom of my suspect list,” Bernie said. “She’s on it, but at the bottom.”

  “You have a list?” Rose said.

  “Of course I do. Don’t you?”

  “Of course I do.”

  Bernie put her empty glass on the table. “If that’s all, let’s go.”

  “Would you like to come with us, Rose?” I asked. Robbie’s ears perked up.

  “You two run along,” my grandmother said. “I’m rather tired, and I had a late lunch today.”

  My phone rang, and we all jumped. Marybeth’s name appeared on the screen, and I answered quickly. “Marybeth, what’s happening? Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” Her voice was thick from crying. “As for what’s happening, I don’t know. You asked me to check in, so I am. I’m waiting at the police station. I haven’t seen Mom yet.”

  “Do you need me to come down? I can call you if anything happens, if you need to get home to your family.”

  “Thanks, Lily, but no. My husband’s with the kids, and my dad’s here with me. I called a lawyer. The only lawyer I know is the guy who handled the buying of our house, but he recommended someone we could use. She’s on her way, so I want to be here.”

  “You will call me right away if you need anything?”

  “Thanks. It’s not likely Mom will be at work tomorrow. I’ll try but—”

  “Never mind that.” I looked at Bernie. “I have plans for backup.”

  Bernie pointed to herself and mouthed, “Me?”

  “You,” I said after I’d hung up, “have a new job starting tomorrow.”

  “I don’t need a job.”

  “Maybe not, but I need a waitress. Do you think Edna would help out?” I asked Rose.

  “If you asked her nicely.”

  “Give me a sec,” I said. I called Edna and explained the situation. Word had traveled, as it does, and she knew Cheryl had been arrested. She said she’d be willing to help me out tomorrow. But, she added, she couldn’t promise more than that.

  * * *

  Bernie and I ate cheeseburgers and fries and then joined the line at the candy store on the boardwalk for ice cream. Cones in hand, we walked along the busy pier, watching the sun dip into the bay, boats returning to harbor, and seals playing in the cool waters under the pier. While we’d driven into town and then enjoyed our burgers and fries, we’d managed not to talk about the subject uppermost on our minds, but I couldn’t hold back any longer.

  “Amy Redmond,” I said, “told me she’s working with the police in LA investigating Tommy’s life and his contacts there. She hinted broadly that Williams’s focus lies closer to North Augusta. Meaning, we now know, Cheryl.”

  “Do you think there’s something personal about it?” Bernie asked. “Between Williams and Cheryl, that is, in light of what Rose learned.”

  “Possibly. I don’t think he’s a very good cop, and that’s no secret, but I don’t think he’s corrupt, either. He must have some reason for arresting her. Beyond her verbally threatening Tommy in the presence of not only a good number of people but television cameras, too.” I remembered Redmond’s face when she saw Cheryl earlier in the day. Amy Redmond wasn’t ready to count Cheryl out, either.

  We reached the end of the pier and stood together, looking over the darkening water.

  “Ready to go?” I asked.

  “Yeah. I’ll drop you off, and then I’ll try to find any reason Claudia D’Angelo might be in desperate need of money. More money is an interesting way of putting it, don’t you agree?”

  “I do. Although I can’t possibly see what benefit Tommy’s death would be to her. Not if America Bakes! ends up being canceled because of it.”

  “People don’t always think logically, Lily.”

  “That’s why I like baking. Everything happens as it should. Mix air with eggs, flour, and butter, and cake batter rises. Add yeast to salt, flour, and water and the result is a lovely crusty loaf of good bread. Bake a pie at the right temperature for the right amount of time, and you get a crispy golden crust. Outcomes, if the baker is competent and conditions are right, are guaranteed.”

  “You lead a boring life, Lily Roberts. Good thing I’m around to provide the occasional jolt of excitement.”