“Hard to say. The parents say Tina initiated the breakup, but she gave them no indication he was threatening toward her or she was worried about anything in that regard. She didn’t have many close friends, as in girlfriends. Most of her high school crowd moved away or started families and made new friends over the years. The people she met at her realtor’s courses and prospective job were a lot older than her. I’m starting to come around to your line of thinking, Gemma. Her death was either self-inflicted or an accident.”

  “My thoughts on that vary. Any results from her phone?”

  “Haven’t heard yet. The techies are backed up. It should be sufficiently dried out by now, so they can chance turning it on. They tell us they’ll get to it when they get to it.”

  “Unlikely to be any clues to be found there in any event.”

  “Which is why we’re not calling in favors to have it rushed. As for your pal Robbie—”

  “Never a friend of mine.”

  “We have a few tenuous leads. He was involved in things he shouldn’t have been, but all low-level stuff.”

  “What sort of low-level stuff?”

  “The sort of stuff that’s confidential until discussed in court. Even though the guy’s dead, I won’t share the details, but I can say he wasn’t into the level of criminal activity that should have caused anyone to bump him off—not yet at any rate, although he was heading that way. His new friends, however, are the sort to get angry quickly and to act on that anger without thinking. We’re following a couple of leads.”

  “I’m glad to hear it. You’re confident it doesn’t have anything to do with Andy or the Blue Water Café? Or even Tina’s death?”

  “I wouldn’t say confident, but such would appear to be the case. Andy’s alibi is rock solid, but he was never a viable option anyway. In my opinion, at least. You can enjoy yourself today without worrying.”

  “I wasn’t worrying.”

  “No, but you were asking questions.”

  “As is my natural state.”

  He laughed. “Don’t I know it. Louise knows I’m off all day today and tomorrow, so she won’t call me except in an emergency.”

  Ryan and I planned to have an “us” day tomorrow. Tonight, we’d be up until the wee hours at Jayne and Andy’s reception, and we intended to enjoy a long lie-in tomorrow and then spend the day doing not much of anything, but doing it together.

  “See you at the church,” I said.

  “Love you,” he said.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Jayne and Andy’s wedding was about as close to perfect as you could get. I’m not usually one for girly things, but I enjoyed Jayne’s excitement as she had her hair and makeup done and fussing over arranging her dress “just so.” Jayne’s sister-in-law, Christy, came to help and also to fuss. Leslie served champagne before we left, and we toasted the blushing bride.

  Jayne was beyond stunning in a high-necked, long-sleeved gown of unadorned white satin. The bodice was closely fitted, cinched with a white fabric belt, the skirt flaring to her feet and spreading out behind her. She matched the dress with a white fake-fur cropped jacket for traveling to and from the church and reception and for the outdoor photographs. Her long blond hair was loosely tied back and secured with a sparkling clip; her mother’s diamond earrings were in her ears. The mother of the bride was in burgundy velvet, and I wore a knee-length pale blue dress with a matching jacket.

  Leslie wept copiously as we drove to the church in the hired limo. I might have had a tear in my eye myself. Jayne said she wished her dad could be with her today, and Leslie wept some more.

  The church was an old one by Cape Cod, if not English, standards: aging stone, scarred wooden beams and scratched pews, stained glass windows. Sparkling snow was draped over the pointed roof like a fuzzy warm blanket; melting ice glimmered from the eves and the branches of surrounding trees. The sidewalk had been shoveled and de-iced, presenting no obstacle to Jayne’s delicate white ballet flats.

  The coat rack by the main doors was full, and once inside, we added our own, including Jayne’s jacket, to the mix. Christy and I arranged Jayne’s skirts, and Leslie wrapped her daughter in an embrace so tight we had to arrange the skirts again. Then we gripped our flowers, the music sounded, and we began the stately procession.

  Christy and I preceded Jayne up the aisle. The bride followed us, her mother walking on one side of her and her brother, Jeff, on the other. Andy stood at the front, wearing a dark gray suit with a cobalt blue tie, his dark blond hair combed back, his smile enormous. Next to him, Ryan looked amazingly handsome in a well-cut suit with a tie the same blue as Andy’s. Slightly behind the two men stood Andy’s three sisters. Two of them wore dresses in the color of Andy’s tie, and one wore a black trouser suit over a blue blouse. They smiled that fond, indulgent smile older sisters have for younger brothers.

  The service was longer than I might have liked, but I sat quietly between Ryan and Jeff and tried not to fidget too much. Jayne and Andy had both grown up in West London, and they and their families knew an enormous number of people. The church was almost full. I recognized many faces from Leslie’s charitable and community groups as well as assorted friends and relatives who’d been at Jayne’s party. Mrs. Ramsbatten, escorted by Irene Talbot. Audrey and Madison sitting together. Keith, the mob accountant, with his wife. Donald, once again dressed in full Victorian men’s wear, complete with his beloved frock coat, which I’d returned to him. Andy’s parents, wiping tears from their eyes. A handful of small children, shifting with excitement in their best clothes. The staff from the tearoom, along with some of Andy’s workers, and Ashleigh and Gale.

  Bunny had come with George. As I’d walked slowly down the aisle toward them, George gave me a wink. I suspected he was already calculating how much he’d ask Uncle Arthur for. Whereas Jayne and I closed our businesses for the day, the Blue Water Café would remain open. Andy invited his longtime employees to his wedding, but not many of the people on staff had been with him since the beginning. Turnover in the restaurant business is high.

  Which reminded me of seeing Martin leaving George’s place yesterday. Martin had looked pleased with himself, so I assumed the interview had gone his way. I had a sudden thought and twisted in my seat to look behind me. I had no idea how much notice Martin was required to give if he did find another job. Less than a week? Was George planning to lure Martin from Andy’s restaurant while Andy was away? Leaving no one to cook and thus another opportunity for George to try to get his foot in the door, if not take over the Café completely?

  Jayne’s tearoom is quite different from a full-service restaurant. Smaller, offering mostly takeout, a limited menu, almost all the food prepared ahead of time. The couple of times I’d been in the kitchen of the Café when it was open, several people had been cooking. If Andy wasn’t available and Martin walked out, could the remaining staff keep the place open? You’d think they’d be okay for a week. Wouldn’t they?

  I had an image of Martin as he stood in the doorway under the awning yesterday, lighting his cigarette.

  His cigarette.

  The minister droned on. Ryan shifted with boredom and took my hand. He tickled my palm with his index finger, and I tried not to giggle. Someone coughed. A second person took it up and then a third. A child began kicking the back of the pew in front of him. His father shushed him. Andy and Jayne smiled at each other. Still, the minister droned on

  So many people here, in this church today, come together to celebrate two people they knew and loved. So many connections. A web of connections.

  Thoughts flew through my head, crashing into each other, every one of them clamoring for my attention. Tina, whose death was increasingly looking as though it had not been a murder. Robbie’s, whose definitely was. The police, in the persons of Ryan and Louise, weren’t sure if the two incidents were related. I kept insisting how could they not be. Robbie and Tina had known each other in the past, but more to the point, these days they were part of that complicated web of connections. Six degrees of separation. Sometimes, far less than six.

  I became aware of people getting to their feet. Ryan stood up and held out his hand. “Gemma?”

  “What?”

  “It’s time to go. Wedding party first.”

  I jumped up. “Right. Let’s go.”

  Jayne and Andy led the way down the aisle. Their parents followed, then the couple’s siblings with their partners, and finally Ryan and me. I twitched with such impatience, Ryan threw me a look and whispered, “Are you okay, Gemma?”

  “Fine. Perfectly fine. I wish they’d hurry up.”

  At last, we gathered up our coats and burst through the wide doors of the church into the late afternoon winter sunshine. The plan was for the wedding party to go to the harbor for pictures while the rest of the guests got the party started at the yacht club. As it was January, the gardens typically used for wedding photographs were not in bloom, so the photographer suggested the open ocean as a nice background for the formal pictures.

  Before we did that, Jayne and Andy and their families posed on the church steps while guests lifted cameras and phones, children ran in circles across the lawns, and a few people headed for their cars.

  It was getting colder as evening approached, and the sun was touching the tops of the trees to the west, and I was glad of my good winter coat.

  I studied the crowd. Ashleigh was standing with Bunny and George. Despite what she told me yesterday, I’d feared Ashleigh wouldn’t be able to resist the temptation to get into the “mood” and would wear a bridal dress. She was sure to have something suitable somewhere in the depths of that vast closet of hers. Or, at the worst, she would go all Miss Haversham. Instead, she was surprisingly subdued in a navy-blue pantsuit with a white blouse, black ankle boots, and a single gold hoop in each ear. Bunny, on the other hand, was decked out in pink tulle and lace. Pink and gray feathers adorned the fascinator on her head. She even had lace gloves on her hands.

  “Nice service,” I said to them. “Did you enjoy it?”

  “She did rather go on,” George said, before hastily adding, “But nice, yeah.”

  “Bunny, can I have a quick word?” I said.

  “What about?”

  “Please.”

  “Okay. Be right back,” she said to Ashleigh and George. George eyed me suspiciously.

  “It’s nice to see you and George getting on,” I said to Bunny, once we were out of earshot.

  She smiled. “I like him. Nothing too serious yet, but early days. I know what you want to talk to me about, Gemma, but you don’t need to. Ashleigh already told me it would not be a good idea for me to get involved in George’s business affairs, not this early in a potential relationship. I informed her I am not a total fool. I am also not completely broke, but I have no intention of lending him money.” She tossed her head, the feathers on her fascinator bobbing, and she gave me a wink. “Although I might call in a few favors from the old days. Get some nice pictures of my friends and me dining at George’s place.”

  “That’s good. Glad to hear it. But that’s not what I want to talk to you about. You were supposed to have dinner with George last Wednesday. On Thursday morning, I asked Ashleigh how it had gone, and she said he had to postpone.”

  Bunny blinked at me. “What on earth does that have to do with anything?”

  “Humor me. It was postponed until … when?”

  “Thursday. We had such a lovely time that night, we went out on Friday also. Do you think I’m rushing into this, Gemma? I’m not as young as I once was, nor is George, but if we—”

  “What did you do on Thursday, and at what time?”

  “I still don’t—”

  “Please?”

  “We went to his restaurant in Hyannis. He picked me up around seven-thirty and we arrived shortly before eight. We had a lovely, long meal, lingered over liqueurs, and then he called a taxi because he’d been drinking, and we went to my place.” Her face colored slightly. “What happened after that, Gemma, I am absolutely not going to tell you.”

  “Thank you,” I said.

  George had an alibi for the time of Robbie’s death. Judging by the blush on Bunny’s cheeks and the twinkle in her eye, he had not been fleeing from me at ten-thirty on Thursday night.

  Bunny returned to Ashleigh and George. Audrey, well wrapped in a long wool coat with big shiny gold buttons, approached Bunny and they exchanged greetings. Madison hung back, standing alone. I had a question for her too and hurried to join her.

  “Lovely wedding,” I said.

  “Yeah, it was.” She cracked a smile. “I’m glad I came. Weddings always make me happy, and Jayne’s so beautiful. Look at the expression on Andy’s face.” She sighed. “I took a bunch of pictures for my Insta page. I’m thinking of announcing that winter weddings are going to be the new in-thing. I should be able to get some sponsorship out of that, don’t you think? The dresses, in particular, need to be different than—”

  “Would you do me a quick favor and think back to Jayne’s party? You told me something the other night I’ve been wondering about.”

  “What?”

  I asked her the question I’d been pondering throughout the wedding service. Satisfied with her answer, I had one more question before I left her. “You went down to the dock during the party, didn’t you? Where you took a photo for your Instagram page?”

  “What about it?”

  “Was the gate open?”

  “No. It had a fiddly little latch, but I wanted a shot straight across the water, not from above, so I worked on it a bit. And then … ta-da … it opened.” She looked pleased with herself.

  “Did you refasten the latch when you came back up?”

  “I might have not bothered. I know what you’re going to say. Yeah, I heard the cops asking about that. But so much was going on and everyone was talking all at once, and some people were crying. Audrey was acting weird. I guess I sorta forgot. Then later, when I remembered, I decided it didn’t matter. I didn’t want to confuse things, right? I took some pictures of the cops out on the deck stringing up crime scene tape and the like, but I decided not to use them. It wouldn’t suit the image I’m trying to create. Might frighten some of my potential sponsors away.”

  “Which is obviously far more important than getting to the cause of a young woman’s death. Thanks for your time.” I left her and sought out Andy.

  Who was, to nobody’s surprise, preoccupied.

  “Gemma,” Jayne called to me. “Get over here. I want you in the pictures.”

  I handed my coat to a woman I didn’t know, plastered on a smile, climbed the church steps, and took my place.

  Finally, finally, a laughing Andy held up his hand. “We’re going down to the harbor for some formal photos. Anyone who doesn’t want to come and wants to get a head start on the party, they’re expecting us at the Cape Cod Yacht Club. Mention my dad’s name and you’ll get a good seat.”

  A round of cheers, led by Pete Whitehall himself, went up. People began heading for their cars.

  I needed to talk to Andy, but he was surrounded by well-wishers. Before I had a chance, he and Jayne got into the limo, gave us all a big wave, and drove off.

  “Ready, Gemma?” Ryan asked.

  “Yup. Let’s go.”

  “Aren’t you cold? Where’s your coat?”

  “My what? Oh, my coat. It’s around here somewhere.”

  A woman handed it to me and I mumbled my thanks.

  “Is something on your mind?” Ryan said. “You seem distracted all of a sudden.”

  I hesitated. I don’t like to share my theories, not with anyone, when they’re in a formative stage. But Ryan was asking, and he was well acquainted with the details of the case.

  The drive from the church to the parking lot at the harbor takes about a minute and a half. Before I could make up my mind whether or not to confide in Ryan, we arrived. He’d barely switched off the engine before one of Andy’s sisters appeared. “Let’s get this done, buddy,” she said. “It’s getting cold, and a beer’s waiting for me.”

  We got out of the car. I glanced across the water at the Blue Water Café. The fairy lights draped around its deck were on, reflecting off the dark water below. Light streamed through the windows. A shape moved across the kitchen windows and was gone.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  It was coming up to five, and the winter sun was low in the west. To the east, the ocean was a sheet of black, the first stars appearing above. The background would look marvelous in the photos. As everyone mingled, not sure where they should stand, whether to leave coats on or take them off, I approached Andy. I touched his arm and led him aside.

  “Your place looks great from here. You should take some shots of this view for advertising. Tourist brochures and the like.”

  He nodded and looked across the water. “Good idea.”

  “I don’t want to spoil the mood or anything, but I thought you should know I was in Hyannis yesterday on … another matter … and I saw Martin at George’s place.”

  Andy shrugged. “Don’t worry about it, Gemma. If Martin wants to seek employment elsewhere, he’s welcome to it. He’s a good cook, he has the potential to be a great chef, but he needs to learn he’s not at the top of the ladder yet.”

  “Meaning?”

  “He’s lazy. Cuts corners. He mouths off too much.”

  “You’re leaving him in charge this week.”

  “Only nominally in charge of the cooking. Rachel, my head bartender, will be keeping everything else running, and as long as Martin doesn’t have any grand ideas for putting new things on the menu, my other cooks can handle anything else, if needed.”

  “Andy!” Pete called. “What’s keeping you? Let’s get this show on the road.”

  “Be right there, Dad.”

  “One thing quickly, and then I’ll let you go,” I said. “Can you give me an example, a recent example, of Martin slacking off?”

  Andy studied my face. Then he looked over my shoulder to where everyone, including his new wife, waited impatiently for him. “Why are you asking, Gemma?”