He lifted his mug in a salute. “Got it.”

  I blushed some more.

  As he drank his coffee, he washed and sliced the fruit that would make up the breakfast salad.

  Edna came in, calling good morning as she reached for her apron. That she didn’t ask us about last night’s incident meant the paper hadn’t picked up the story yet. Hopefully, they never would. We didn’t need B & B guests thinking their lives were in danger.

  “I’m off.” Simon rinsed his mug in the sink. “I’ll check in later, Lily.”

  “Bye,” I called.

  “What’s he got to check in about?” Edna asked.

  “Nothing.”

  She gave me a look but said no more.

  “Have the TV people come in?” I asked Edna later, as she prepared to carry the first of the breakfast plates into the dining room.

  “Yes.”

  “How do they look?”

  “Look? What does that mean?”

  I’d meant, do any of them look as though they’d been creeping around in the night and attacking a man. But I didn’t say so.

  “The usual cheerful bunch,” Edna said. “They’re seated at separate tables, ignoring each other. Reilly’s here, talking to Josh.”

  “I’ll go out and make friendly,” I said.

  Edna gave me a sideways look. I took the plates from her. “Flip those sausages, will you? And check on the bacon. Who are these for?”

  “Fully loaded’s for Josh. The poached eggs and toast for Claudia. Scarlet’s having yogurt and fruit.”

  I took Claudia her breakfast first. “Good morning.”

  Her iPad was propped on the table in front of her, next to her coffee cup. She moved it so I could put the plate down, and I caught a glimpse of an online gambling page. She gave me a smile and said, “Good morning, Lily.” The smile on her face and the sparkle in her eyes told me she was on a winning streak. That wouldn’t last. It never lasted.

  I studied her face as I said, “Off to North Augusta Bakery this morning?”

  “Yes, we are. I don’t mind saying, they’ll have to do an excellent job to beat you.” She wiggled her finger at me and gave me a wink. “Don’t get overconfident. I’m sure they’re up to the challenge.”

  Yup. She was winning, and it had put her in a good mood. Her eyes were clear, and her skin was fresh. She did not look like a woman who’d been creeping around a dark garden in the rain at midnight.

  Next Josh. He and Reilly were talking in low voices, but I didn’t have to hear the words to know they were arguing. Josh broke off when I put his plate in front of him.

  “Good morning, gentlemen.”

  Josh growled, and Reilly said, “Morning, Lily. Another lovely day.” Josh picked up his fork and attacked his sausage with such force, I wondered if he was wishing it were his son’s face. I wanted to linger, find out what they were arguing about, but I didn’t see any way of doing that without being totally obvious, so I left them to it.

  “Sorry, Josh,” I heard Reilly say, “but that’s the way it’s going to be.” He pushed his chair back and stood up. “Be at the car in twenty minutes, or I’m leaving without you. Claudia, Scarlet. Twenty minutes.”

  Claudia waved her fork in acknowledgment, but Scarlet scowled into her bowl of yogurt and muttered under her breath.

  “Everything okay?” I asked.

  “I don’t know who died and made Reilly god,” she snarled. “Too big for his britches, that one.”

  “Have a nice day,” I said.

  * * *

  As the morning routine continued its regular rhythm, I finally made up my mind and decided on a course of action. Cheryl or Marybeth had not called to say they wouldn’t be in today. I’d gotten a good amount of baking done last night, enough to allow them to manage for a few hours without me.

  Shortly before nine, Robert the Bruce ran into the kitchen. Éclair, who’d been lying under the table, alert for any scraps that might fall, rose to her feet and gave her nemesis a half-hearted bark. The cat ignored the dog, as he always did, and leapt onto the table. I lifted him off the table and put him on the floor. He ignored me, as he always did, and jumped back up as Rose came in.

  “Good morning, love. Good morning, Edna. I’ll have my tea in here this morning.”

  “That’s nice,” Edna said as she took a batch of muffins into the dining room. I put the kettle on.

  “What’s this about police activity?” my grandmother asked me. “I peeked out and saw two people crawling through the shrubbery and a section of the garden marked off with yellow tape.”

  I jerked my head toward the door and mouthed, “Later.”

  One shaggy eyebrow rose. Robbie crawled onto her lap and gave me a supercilious smirk.

  “I’ve decided to watch the filming at the bakery today,” I said.

  “Good heavens, why? Surely you’re not hoping to throw Allegra off her game?”

  “Nothing of the sort. Even if I wanted to, I won’t get into the kitchen. I’m going to enjoy a nice lunch out.” I poured boiling water over two tea bags in the sturdy old brown teapot. “Want to come?”

  “Need you ask? Are we inviting Bernadette to this nice lunch outing?”

  “Not today. She told me she’s wanting to get writing done.” I poured my grandmother a cup of tea and put it in front of her, along with the sugar bowl and milk jug.

  “Best not disturb her, then.” Rose added a splash of milk and a heaping spoonful of sugar and stirred. “Heaven knows if this book will ever be finished, the way that girl can get distracted.”

  I didn’t bother to mention that much of that distraction was caused by Rose herself summoning Bernie on some mad scheme or another. My phone rang, and I pulled it out of my pocket. Bernie. “Looks like she’s been distracted,” I said to Rose as I answered.

  “Someone attacked Simon!” A screech came down the line.

  “How do you know?”

  “Matt just called me. The cops were around at his place first thing, asking if he’d seen anything shortly after Simon left him last night.”

  “Had he?”

  “No. He called Simon before calling me, to check up. Simon says he’s okay, nothing but a sore head, and that he spent the night at your place.” Her voice dropped. “Does that mean he spent the night?”

  “It means he needed supervision in case of a concussion, so we thought it prudent that he sleep on my couch.”

  My grandmother choked on her tea. Edna stared at me from the doorway, her arms full of used dishes. I shrugged.

  “Wow! You don’t know who did it?” Bernie asked.

  “The police are investigating.”

  “I bet. It obviously has something to do with the death of Tommy Greene. Unless you have two random killers running around your property, which you probably don’t want to consider.”

  “No. I do not.”

  “Okay. What’s our plan of attack?”

  “Aren’t you writing this morning?”

  “Writing can wait. I’ll be there in a few minutes, and we can put our heads together and come up with a plan.”

  “I’m ahead of you for once. I have a plan. It’s almost nine now. I need to open the tearoom, and you can get some writing done. Then I’ll pick you up at one o’clock. Don’t have lunch.”

  Edna and Rose were staring at me. “I guess you want to know what that was about,” I said.

  They nodded, and I filled them in, emphasising that Simon had emerged unscathed but for a headache and a sizable lump on the back of his head.

  * * *

  I phoned Cheryl on my way home from the B & B, watching as Éclair chased a squirrel up a tree.

  “I assume you’re calling because you know I had a visit from the police last night,” Cheryl said.

  “Yes. I also know they didn’t arrest you, and that’s good.”

  “Detective Redmond said she’ll have someone check that we were at the Reynolds’ house last night. We were, and they’ll say so.”

  “Yesterday you didn’t by chance take a break and go for a walk in the garden?”

  She laughed without humor. “Redmond asked me that, and I told her I didn’t go into the garden, because I didn’t get a break all day, what with the fuss over the stupid TV show. Is Simon okay, Lily? Redmond was noncommittal about that.”

  “He’s fine. Sore head, but nothing more.”

  “Good. I like him. He’s always so cheerful. I can’t imagine who would attack him or why they’d have my earring on them. Marybeth and I’ll be at work at the regular time.”

  “Glad to hear it,” I said. “I have some errands to run this afternoon, but I’m pretty well set, so you should be able manage for a couple of hours without me.”

  “We always can.”

  “Which is why I pay you the big bucks.”

  When we’d hung up, I wondered if it was time to give Cheryl and Marybeth a raise.

  * * *

  I decided to forego my half hour of relaxation on the porch this morning and start work early if I was going to be skipping out of the tearoom in the afternoon. I took Éclair home as soon as everyone had been served their breakfast, and apologized to her for no yard time this morning. Judging by the look on her little face, I’d announced that the end of the world was at hand. “Don’t give me that,” I said. “Jean will be around later to take you for your walk.”

  She wagged her tail.

  Chapter 21

  Sandwiches were made and resting in the fridge, covered in plastic wrap; scones in the freezer; and a fresh batch on the cooling rack, next to an Earl Grey chocolate tart and almond macarons. Mini cupcakes had been iced and decorated, lemon tarts baked, strawberry tarts assembled, and shortbread and chocolate chip cookies were thawing in the pantry.

  Last night’s rain had ended before dawn, and the rising sun soon dried everything out. We had a full reservations book for today.

  Confident I was leaving my business in good hands, at quarter to one I trotted up to the big house to collect Rose and her car. My grandmother was waiting for me on the veranda, cavernous purse on her lap, cane gripped in both hands. Robbie had been confined to the house. I regretted mentioning the outing to Rose. I’d invited her to come with me before I knew Bernie would be joining us. Three can sometimes be a crowd. Oh, well. Couldn’t be helped now. Once Rose decided she was doing something, she did it.

  As I’ve lived my entire life in Manhattan, I’ve never owned a car. Here in Cape Cod Rose and I share her Ford Focus. I got it out of the garage and drove it to the foot of the stairs. Rose regally descended the steps and got in.

  “I shall assume this visit to the bakery is part of your master plan.”

  “It is.”

  “Are you going to tell me what this master plan is?” She fastened her seat belt.

  “No. I have a suspicion as to who killed Tommy Greene and thus is the person who attacked Simon last night.”

  “Are you planning to accuse him or her? I don’t think that would be wise, love.”

  “Fear not. I want to watch what happens this morning and then think about it some more. I won’t do anything. I’ll tell the detectives and let them handle it.”

  Bernie was waiting for us in front of the dilapidated old cottage she’d rented for the summer. The only reason she could afford it was because no one else wanted it. Dealing with last night’s rain would have involved the use of a copious number of buckets.

  She hopped into the back seat.

  “How are you today, love?” Rose asked.

  “Tired. I was up most of the night lugging buckets full of rainwater and dumping them out the back. I swear there’s a new leak in that roof every time it rains. Where are we going, Lily, and why are we going there?”

  “To the bakery. I want to catch some of today’s filming.”

  “Why?”

  “She has a master plan,” Rose said.

  “I have a vague suspicion,” I said.

  I couldn’t get anywhere near the bakery to park, so I had to let Rose and Bernie out and then drive in ever-increasing circles through the back streets of North Augusta until I finally happened upon a vehicle about to vacate its space, and I pulled in behind it. I locked my car and jogged to the bakery.

  Unlike at Tea by the Sea, which is nestled on its own spacious property, the TV trailers and equipment vans had to park along Main Street. That, of course, attracted passersby, and a substantial crowd had gathered on the sidewalk outside the bakery.

  “We’re not going to get in,” Bernie said when I’d tracked them down to a bench outside a clothing store.

  “Follow me,” I said. “Rose, keep that cane handy.”

  She hefted it in her hands and gave me a wicked grin.

  We pushed our way through the crowd in front of the North Augusta Bakery. Rose’s cane wasn’t needed: this was a mellow bunch, people on vacation straining to see what all the fuss was about and maybe catch a glimpse of a TV personality.

  “Closed to the public,” the security guard at the door said to us.

  “You know me,” I said. “From Tea by the Sea?”

  “Oh, yeah. Sorry, Ms. Roberts. I don’t have you on my list, but I guess you can go on in. Hi, Mrs. Campbell. Nice day, isn’t it?”

  “Following a most welcome bit of rain,” Rose replied.

  The scene inside the North Augusta Bakery was much as it had been at Tea by the Sea. Every seat was taken, with customers enjoying a light lunch or a baked treat with their coffee or tea. Scarlet and Claudia sat at a center table for two, finishing their sandwiches and about to get stuck into dessert. Apple pie for Claudia and a slice of chocolate cake stuffed with buttercream and covered in a thick layer of ganache for Scarlet. Men with gigantic cameras mounted on their shoulders moved through the crowded space, filming people trying to enjoy their lunch while pretending they weren’t being filmed, Susan and Gary Powers among them. Gary Powers was seated facing the door. He flushed when he saw us, meaning Bernie, and turned away. Other members of the crew stood at the edges of the room, watching the activity and fiddling with their equipment. Melanie was at the ready with her portable makeup kit and brushes in case a last-minute touch-up to one of the stars would be needed. Reilly supervised the shoot. I didn’t see Josh. He might be in the kitchen with Allegra, filming her at work.

  As I watched, Scarlet said something to Claudia, who laughed delightfully. Scarlet patted her lips with her napkin, stood up, and began moving through the room, stopping at tables to chat to guests and presumably ask if they enjoyed the food. Or, more likely, to ask them to criticize it. At one point Reilly stepped up to her and whispered in her ear. She shook her head vehemently. He repeated it. She threw him a vicious look but then replastered the smile on her face and sailed to the next table. Claudia, once the camera was off her, shoved the barely touched slice of pie to one side, leaned back in her chair, sighed, and closed her eyes.

  Reilly turned and caught sight of me watching him. His face tightened for an instant; then he wiped the expression away and came over to greet us. “I wasn’t expecting to see you three here today.”

  “This is all just so interesting,” Rose said. “I’ve had a wonderful idea, and I couldn’t wait to tell you about it. A show featuring grandmothers making their favorite family recipes. Do you think your company would be interested?”

  “You don’t cook, Rose,” Bernie said. “So you couldn’t be on it.”

  “I can cook. I simply choose not to. No matter, I’ll be a judge. I do eat.” Her blue eyes twinkled, and Reilly gave her a fond, but slightly patronizing smile.

  “Not my department. You’ll have to speak to Josh about that,” he said.

  “Where is Josh?” I asked.

  “In the kitchen, with the cook.”

  “Running the show from back there?”

  “Even Josh can’t be two places at once. Nor can you. No work at your tearoom today?”

  “I’m all caught up. Like my grandmother, I can’t get enough of watching TV being made.”

  He gave me a suspicious look. I shrugged. That was a lie, and he knew it.

  At the table next to the one Scarlet was visiting, a woman let out a shout of near-hysterical laughter. The cameraman was so startled, his camera jerked. Reilly spun around. The woman clapped her hands to her mouth in horror, but he bellowed, “Cut! You do that again, and you’ll be out of here. Do you understand?”

  She nodded.

  “Never mind. No second chances. You’re out of here now.” He jerked his thumb toward the door. “Get lost.”

  The miscreant slowly got to her feet. She lifted her bag off the back of her chair; her lower lip trembled as she fought back tears. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled. She crossed the room, head down, and hurried out the door. Notably, her three tablemates didn’t bother to join her.

  “You.” Reilly pointed a finger at Bernie. “Take her place.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t want an empty chair. She hasn’t touched her pie yet. Order a cup of coffee and have the pie.”

  “I don’t want pie.”

  “Sure you do, sweetie. You’ll look good on camera.” He took her arm and just about dragged her across the room. Bernie threw a glance at me over her shoulder as she dropped into the recently vacated chair. Reilly had a word with the cameraman, and the camera was turned toward Bernie.

  “Claudia,” Reilly yelled.

  Claudia’s head was thrown back, and her eyes were still closed.

  “Claudia! ”

  She jerked awake, gave her head a shake, and straightened up. “I’m here. What do you want?”

  “Talk to this table. First, your makeup’s smeared.” He snapped his fingers, and Melanie appeared at the older woman’s side, as if in a puff of smoke. While Melanie dabbed powder on Claudia’s cheeks and added a touch of fresh lipstick, Reilly said to Bernie, “Eat that pie and tell Claudia what you think of it. What you think of it is something along the lines of the best blueberry pie you’ve ever had.”

  “It’s blackberry,” one of Bernie’s tablemates said.