“Robyn Sullivan had met Cheryl, but probably not Allegra,” I said. “She’d met Cheryl here on the property, so the connection would be in her subconscious. Yes, it’s possible.”

  “Why would Allegra be poking around at night?”

  “Who knows, but we can’t dismiss the possibility. Did she come to talk to Tommy Greene? Had she seen Cheryl driving around and decided to make mischief at Tea by the Sea, and instead, she encountered Tommy out for a late-night walk?”

  “Murdering a man is more than mischief.”

  “Who knows how far her anger at Cheryl might take her.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  Only two tables on the patio were still occupied, and the last of the customers were leaving the dining rooms. “I have to call Marybeth. She needs to know that Allegra’s intent on stirring the pot. And then I’ll bake.”

  “Because,” Bernie said, “it’s what you do best.”

  * * *

  “I’m so sorry that happened,” Marybeth said over the phone.

  “Not your fault. I wanted you to know, that’s all.”

  “Thanks.” Her voice sounded tired. “I’m glad you called. I intend to come into work tomorrow.”

  “If you need more time . . .”

  “There’s not a lot I can do. Dad and I had a meeting earlier with Mom’s lawyer, and she seems confident that the testimony of the woman who says she saw Mom in the garden on Tuesday night is too nebulous. She couldn’t really describe Mom, more like a general impression of a woman, and she named Mom because she’d seen her earlier. On further questioning, she admitted she might have been mistaken. Victoria-on-Sea is private property, but it is open to paying guests, and any one of those guests might have gone for a nightly stroll. The lawyer pointed out, quite forcefully, that Robyn Sullivan herself was enjoying a walk. The lawyer’s going to move for Mom to be released tonight.”

  “That’s great.” I let out a sigh of relief. Not only at the prospect of Cheryl getting out of jail, but also because it took a burden off me. I’d been wondering if I should call Detective Redmond with my suspicions about Allegra. I had not the slightest proof that Allegra had been lurking about the garden and then murdered Tommy Greene. Redmond was, I thought perhaps optimistically, becoming less wary of me and my ideas, but I didn’t want to push her patience, particularly if all I had was speculation and a feeling about a woman I didn’t like.

  “In the meantime,” Marybeth said, “I can try to find a replacement.”

  “A replacement for what?”

  “A replacement for Mom. Temporary, of course. One of my cousins is in law school in Boston, and she’s come here to be with Dad and offer any advice she can. Law school’s not exactly cheap, so she might be willing to help out at the tearoom. She’s waitressed before.”

  I glanced across the kitchen at Bernie, unloading the dishwasher. Her face was flushed, her hairnet askew, her apron dotted with chocolate fingerprints. One of my big wooden spoons slipped between her fingers and hit the floor with a clatter.

  “I need her,” I said.

  Chapter 16

  Simon popped into the kitchen to say he’d give me a hand with tonight’s baking, if I needed it, although he’d earlier arranged to help with the work at Matt’s house.

  “I’m fine,” I said, meaning it. “My two makeshift waitresses turned out to be surprisingly competent, and I wasn’t needed out front.”

  “Surprisingly?” Bernie said.

  “I had no doubts about Edna.”

  Bernie muttered under her breath. Simon left, chuckling. Edna had hung up her apron, told me she enjoyed the day—although her old bones were glad she wouldn’t be needed again tomorrow—and waved a cheery good-bye, saying she’d see me in the B & B in the morning.

  Bernie helped herself to one of the scones rejected by Allegra, spread it lavishly with butter and strawberry jam (made by Edna herself), added a dollop of clotted cream, and took a huge bite. “I feel that we should be doing more, but at this point, I don’t know what else we can do.”

  “Maybe nothing. If the police let Cheryl go, that’s good enough for me.”

  “If the police don’t have enough evidence to take her to court, the stigma will hang over her all her life. In a small town like this one . . .”

  “Chances are good someone followed Tommy here to North Augusta. If so, that someone went back to wherever they came from long ago.”

  “I hate not knowing what happened,” she said.

  “As do I, but not all questions in life get answered. I wonder when the TV bosses are going to decide whether or not to continue with the show. Surely, the indecision itself is costing them money.”

  “Money we know they can’t afford to waste. If you don’t need me anymore . . .”

  “I don’t. You’ve been a marvel. Thanks. I’m going to put a few more hours of baking in, get ready for tomorrow.”

  “I’ll try to find out more about Allegra, particularly if she’s ever been in legal trouble. I’ll also try to dig a bit deeper into the affairs of CookingTV and their backers, as well as Tommy himself. I haven’t spent a lot of time trawling the celebrity gossip forums, but maybe I should. Everyone says he was a happily married family man, but that might not be true.”

  “I got that impression talking to him.”

  “You never know.”

  We exchanged a giant hug, and then Bernie left.

  * * *

  I finished around nine, pleased with the results of my labors. I had plenty of baking in the freezer and fridge to get us through most of the day tomorrow as well as pre-made sandwiches and sandwich fillings. I hung up my apron and switched off the lights. Last of all, I confirmed more than once that the doors were locked before I left.

  The Lexus SUV drove past me as I walked up the driveway. It parked in the guest lot. Reilly was driving, and he got out, along with Josh, Claudia, and Scarlet.

  Scarlet wore a white summer dress with yellow trim on the hem, a yellow jacket, and sandals with killer heels and yellow ribbons that wound their way up her calves. Claudia’s outfit was plainer but far more sophisticated: black pants and a gray sweater worn under a puffy pink vest as protection against the night chill.

  “I am so tired of this,” Scarlet said. “If we’re not going to be filming, I want to go home.”

  “This must be the first time ever I’ve agreed with Scarlet,” Claudia said. “This place is a total bore.” She saw me join them and added, “Although some people seem to like it.”

  Scarlet headed for the stairs. “Good night,” she called, her voice sharp and pitched to carry. “I’ll see you in the morning, Josh.”

  His face tightened as he got the message. I got it also: Scarlet was finished with Josh.

  Claudia followed the younger and much taller woman into the house. I stared after them, frozen in my tracks.

  Claudia was substantially shorter than Scarlet and me, about five feet four at a guess. The same height as Cheryl and Allegra. Those women were plump, and Claudia was not, but the puffy vest added bulk to her thin frame. If she’d been out at night, she might well have been wearing that vest, or something similar, against the cool night breezes. Might it have been Claudia, not Cheryl or Allegra, whom Robyn Sullivan saw in the garden the night Tommy Greene died?

  “Can I help you with something, Lily?” Reilly asked me.

  I shook the thought out of my head. “No, nothing. I’m assuming you have no news.”

  Reilly’s face twisted, and Josh said, “Not yet. I hear the police have released that woman they arrested, your waitress.”

  “I’m glad to hear it,” I said.

  “It might be good news for you,” Reilly said, “but it’s not for us. The uncertainty’s making the network nervous.”

  “It’s good for Cheryl,” I said.

  “Whatever,” Reilly said. Josh had started to climb the steps, but Reilly called after him, “Hold up. We haven’t finished what we were talking about.”

  “I’m finished with it. I’m tired.”

  “Well, I’m not. Not finished, and not tired. Let’s go inside and talk.” He glanced at me. “Is that okay, Lily?”

  “Of course,” I said. “Josh is a guest here. You can use our drawing room, if you like.”

  “Thanks.” He caught up with Josh and marched into the house. Josh reluctantly followed. The lights in the hall had been turned down, and all was quiet. I waited at least thirty seconds after Reilly shut the door to the drawing room before I slipped into the linen closet.

  It’s a tricky situation, opening your home to paying guests. They are paying and thus have the expectation of privacy, but it’s still your home, and thus what goes on in it is your concern. If Reilly wanted to talk to Josh about family matters or America Bakes!, that wasn’t any of my business. But Tommy Greene had been murdered on my grandmother’s property and one of my employees had been arrested, and as far as I was concerned, that made it my business. Because of that I felt no guilt at listening into their conversation.

  “We’ve gone over this enough,” Josh was saying as I settled myself into the chair.

  “I intend to go over it again,” Reilly said. “But before we do, I couldn’t help but notice a frosty air between you and Scarlet. Frosty as in she’s freezing you out.”

  “So? She’s a spoiled brat. She changes her mood with the wind. Tonight she decided to make nice with Claudia. That won’t last.”

  “You assured me there’d be no more, Dad.”

  I didn’t catch Josh’s reply.

  “Do I have to be your babysitter? I shoulda known better than to allow you to stay in this place with her.”

  “Mind your own business, Reilly.”

  “The show’s my business, and thus the talent’s my business, too.”

  “If there still is a show.”

  “There will be. I’ll make sure of that. Just keep out of it, okay? I’ve made some recommendations on how we can continue, and the network seems to like them. We’ll finish this segment, make it a tribute to Tommy. His fans’ll love that.”

  “That’s in exceptionally bad taste, Reilly. Not only that, but a dumb move. People aren’t fools. They know when their emotions are being manipulated.”

  “Good thing neither I nor the network cares what you think anymore.”

  I sat up straighter in my chair. Wasn’t Josh the director of the show?

  Reilly paced the room as he talked. “You think our audience won’t believe what they want to believe? They want to believe we’re honoring Tommy because he was such a nice guy. We’ll finish filming the segment with the pretty blonde and her fancy sandwiches.”

  I assumed that meant me.

  “We’ll show the scenes where Tommy talks to the guests who were critical of the place, and then Tommy himself saying the icing on the cupcakes is far too sweet, too American, for his taste. And then the clumsy waitress and Tommy giving her what for.”

  “He tripped her,” Josh said. “I told you not to have him do that, but—”

  “But nothing. His fans love that he doesn’t take any nonsense from anyone. They’ll love it even more now that he’s dead. And then we’ll and shoot Scarlet and Claudia at the bakery in town. We’ll go through the usual routine, but all the time they can blather on about how much Tommy would have preferred that place to the fancy tearoom, and then they’ll chose the fat woman at the bakery to go on to the next round.”

  “No.” Josh’s voice was sharp with anger. “I told you and I told Tommy I didn’t want him deliberately upsetting the waitress, but you two went ahead with it, anyway.”

  I was momentarily confused. The day of filming, I’d seen Reilly and Josh arguing. Josh had appeared to come out the winner, and Reilly’d gone away angry. After Tommy tripped Marybeth, I’d assumed Josh had wanted that to happen and Reilly hadn’t. Now I began to understand that it had been the opposite. Josh had thought he’d gotten his own way, but Reilly had gone behind his back and told Tommy to humiliate Marybeth.

  Reilly, not Josh, was the person in charge of America Bakes!

  “Then we’ll be done with this segment and move on,” Reilly said. “We should be able to replace Tommy fast enough. I’m thinking that Scottish guy everyone loves to hate. While we’re at it, we’ll dump Claudia.”

  “Claudia? You can’t be serious. Claudia brings legions of her own fans to the show.”

  “Claudia’s finished. Washed up. I don’t know what her problem is, but word’s out that she’s in desperate need of money, and fast.”

  “Isn’t that a reason not to fire her?”

  “What are you saying, Josh? Coming over all soft in your old age? You never hesitated to dump the talent in the past, not the second they ceased to be of use to you.”

  “Maybe—”

  “I don’t want a clean sweep. We’ve lost Tommy. That can’t be helped. I’d rather ditch Scarlet than Claudia, but I can’t do that now, can I? Thanks to you.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means, Dad, if you’ve been fooling around with Scarlet and you fire her, because it won’t be me pulling the plug, she’ll have reason to hit social media with all the sordid details. Public opinion’s not on the side of old men coercing their employees.”

  “I don’t have to coerce anyone.”

  “You think the likes of Scarlet McIntosh would give you the time of day if you weren’t the director of the country’s top reality show?” Reilly snorted. “Get real.”

  Josh said nothing.

  The floorboards creaked as Reilly continued to pace. “Losing Tommy was bad, but not unsalvageable. We can save this segment by using lots of shots of him. Then we move on. Two new judges will freshen the show up, give it a jolt of adrenaline.”

  “I’d say Tommy’s death did that.”

  “I’ve already got feelers out to the Scottish chef, and he seems to be interested. We find an up-and-coming man to replace Claudia. That’ll provide better balance. Experienced older guy, hungry young guy, empty-headed but pretty woman.”

  “You’re getting ahead of yourself, Reilly. The network hasn’t agreed to this.”

  “They will. If I present it to them.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It’s time for you to step aside, Dad. Your last idea was a bust, and the network won’t forget.”

  “My last idea? Seems to me all that about making things challenging for the cooks was your idea.”

  “Maybe it was. But we didn’t present it that way, did we? You were happy enough to be the face of the new show when everyone thought it was a good idea. Not so happy now.”

  “Reilly . . . son . . .”

  I felt sorry for Josh. He sounded lost. He was accustomed to being in charge, the one calling the shots, and now his son was taking over, pushing him aside. Dethroning the king.

  “I’m off,” Reilly said. “It’s early enough to call LA. I’ll tell them I . . . that is, you . . . want a decision now, tonight, or we’re leaving. They’ll fold. I’m going to tell the crew to be ready to start shooting tomorrow.”

  The sound of the door opening, footsteps crossing the hall, the front door opening and slamming shut. I held my breath, listening. It sounded as though only Reilly had left, and I couldn’t slip out of the secret room if I was taking the chance Josh would suddenly appear and catch me. Although, I reasoned, men like Josh were unlikely to wonder why the linens would need sorting at ten p.m.

  “Scarlet.” Josh’s voice came through the walls. “Listen to me.” He was on his phone. “Reilly’s calling the network tonight. He has this idea that as long as we have to replace Tommy, we should get another new judge. Shake things up. He thinks we need Claudia, because she’s got gravitas in the baking world, but you’re expendable.”

  Scarlet’s screech was so loud, I could hear it pouring down the virtual phone line, crossing the room, and charging through the walls.

  “Yeah,” Josh said. “I told him you’ve got the looks and the perky charm the show needs, but I’m not sure I convinced him. How about I come up to your room and we can talk over a plan of attack? Great. See you in a couple of minutes.”

  He chuckled.

  I no longer felt sorry for Josh Henshaw.

  Chapter 17

  When I got home, I called Amy Redmond.

  “What is it now, Lily?” Her tone was sharp.

  “I’m sorry to bother you, Detective, but I had an idea.”

  “Another idea? What now?”

  I cringed at the implied rebuke. I was only trying to help. “I’m wondering if you asked Claudia D’Angelo where she was around eleven the night Tommy Greene died.”

  “Lily, are you suggesting you don’t trust me to do my job? Of course I asked her that. I asked them all.”

  “It occurred to me that she might be the person Robyn Sullivan saw in the garden around that time. She’s short, same height as Cheryl. Claudia is thinner than the woman Robyn described, but she sometimes wears a puffy vest of the sort that makes a person look larger than they are.”

  “That’s hardly conclusive proof of anything, Lily.”

  “I thought it worth mentioning, that’s all. I’m sorry.”

  She let out a long sigh. “And I’m sorry I snapped at you. It’s natural for you to be interested in the progress of this case, and you have a sharp, inquisitive mind.”

  “I do? I mean, yes, I do.”

  “I’ll speak to Miss D’Angelo again, suggest she might have neglected to mention something.”

  “If she was up late, wandering in the garden, she has a reason to have trouble sleeping. Are you aware she’s in financial difficulties?”

  “I won’t ask how you know that, Lily, as I assume the woman didn’t tell you.”

  I said nothing.

  “In a case such as this one, a murder with no obvious suspects, we are interested, very interested, in the financial situation of the people involved with the deceased, particularly if they are having trouble maintaining their accustomed lifestyle. So yes, Lily, Claudia D’Angelo is on my radar. As are other people.” She hung up without telling me who those other people might be.