“What?”

  “It’s not blueberry pie. It’s blackberry.”

  “If I say it’s blueberry, it’s blueberry,” Reilly said. “Or would you like to join your friend on the street?”

  “Blueberry,” she chirped.

  On her way back to her corner, Melanie found a chair on the sidelines for Rose, and my grandmother gratefully sat down. I stood next to her, watching the filming. Reilly didn’t seem to be in a good mood today, and he snarled at pretty much everyone.

  Josh and a cameraman came out of the back, and Reilly called a temporary halt to the filming. Claudia and Scarlet returned to their table. Scarlet pulled out her phone, while Melanie made more adjustments to Claudia’s lips and hair. The servers, the same ones who’d been here when I’d visited last week, cleared away the dirty dishes and began laying the tables with fresh cutlery. The guests didn’t turn over but got themselves ready to dig into another round of lunch. Bernie, I noticed, had eaten all her pie and was chatting happily with the two women and one man at her table. At a different table, a woman left, and one of the crew asked Rose if she’d like to take the vacant seat, and she accepted.

  “Hi,” Josh said to me.

  “Hi.”

  “Surprised to see you and your friend here. And your grandmother.”

  “We’re interested in watching how my competition’s doing. How’s it going in the kitchen?”

  “Well. Your competitor’s a highly competent baker. She’s mighty temperamental, and she must be a nightmare of a boss, but she can cook. I got some good footage of her berating her poor waiter.”

  “He’s her nephew,” I said.

  “I thought he seemed used to her.”

  As if hearing her name, Allegra appeared at the entrance to the kitchen. She wore a long apron over jeans and a T-shirt. Her hair was pulled back into a too-tight bun. If Melanie had worked any of her magic on Allegra, the effect was long gone. Allegra studied the room with an expression I knew well: she was making sure everything was to her satisfaction. She nodded at Gary and Susan Powers, and her gaze passed on. She started when she saw Bernie and then Rose, and her eyes flew to me. The look she gave me was not friendly. I wiggled my fingers in greeting, and she turned and stomped off into her kitchen.

  “Are you going to use the footage,” I asked Josh, “of her berating her nephew? It will be embarrassing for him.”

  “Not sure yet. We’ll see what we have.” He sighed. “I could have counted on Tommy to give me the drama and the temperament I need to keep the show interesting.” He shook his head. “But Tommy’s not here, is he?”

  “Do you need drama and temperament? That British baking show where everyone’s so nice to everyone else is hugely popular. Canadians are doing a version of the same program, I’ve heard.”

  “That’s that show. I’ve got my show.” He glanced across the room to where Reilly was instructing Claudia and Scarlet. “I thought I had my show.”

  Reilly turned and saw Josh talking to me. He lifted his hand in a wave to his father before addressing the room. “Everyone ready? Great. Let’s do it one more time. Now, remember, if Claudia or Scarlet stops at your table, be natural and friendly, but don’t fuss. Josh and Eddie, can you two get some more shots in the kitchen? Thanks, Allegra.”

  Allegra had come back out to find out what was going on. She gave me another one of her hostile stares and then retreated, followed by the director and his cameraman.

  I’d seen enough. I was ready to leave, but Rose and Bernie were filling seats as orders were being taken and a second round of lunch was being served. I was too timid to face Reilly’s wrath by dragging them away, so I slipped outside to make a phone call.

  I got no answer from Amy Redmond and left a message, asking her to call me back. By the time I was able to get Rose and Bernie away, both of them stating that they could never eat another thing, the detective still hadn’t returned my call. As I went to get the car, I tried again. I left another message.

  “How was it?” I asked when we were heading back to Victoria-on-Sea.

  “The lunch?” Bernie answered. “I have to say, Lily, it was good. Seriously yummy. Her pastry isn’t as good as yours, not by a long shot, but her cake’s up there. She does hearty soups and thick sandwiches of the sort you don’t, so if that’s what the judges are looking for . . .”

  “You had pie and cake?”

  “And an oatmeal cookie. I like your shortbread better.”

  “Good to hear. Rose?”

  “Too much salt in my soup. I told Claudia that. I think Claudia was surprised to see me there.”

  “Considering you’re not exactly an impartial diner,” I said.

  “There is that. I get the feeling impartiality isn’t of concern to them. Claudia said something interesting to me during the break.”

  “What?” Bernie asked.

  “She thanked me for my hospitality and mentioned she’d like to come for a proper vacation later in the summer, when she has a gap in her schedule. She wants to reserve two rooms, including the one she’s in now, for a week. The other room’s for her daughter, who also, according to Claudia, needs a vacation by the sea.”

  “A week for two at Victoria-on-Sea at the height of the season in the best rooms isn’t cheap,” I said.

  “It is not.”

  Bernie rested her arms on the back of our seats and leaned between us. “Maybe Claudia’s not as badly off financially as we assumed.”

  “Or she’s expecting a change in her fortunes,” I said, thinking of how cheerful she’d seemed at breakfast this morning.

  “More likely the expectation of a change in her fortunes,” Rose said. “Every gambler in the world is the same. Their luck’s about to change. Any minute now. My childhood friend Roz was a maid at the home of Sir Reginald Mathers and Lady Mathers. Sir Reg, as everyone called him, gambled away the entirety of the extensive fortune his ancestors made in coal mining. Roz said the screaming fights, night after night, between Sir Reg and Lady Mathers were something to behold. All he needed, he kept telling her, was one big break. When he did get the big break, he gambled the lot again, and the cycle continued. The estate wasn’t entailed, and eventually they had to sell it and creep off into the night ahead of the bailiff. No one had much sympathy for him or his family. Dirty money, coal, particularly in Yorkshire.”

  “Do you think Tommy Greene’s death had anything to do with this expected change of Claudia’s fortune?” Bernie asked. “Maybe she bumped him off in a contract killing and is about to get paid.”

  “No,” I said. “Rose’s story, excessively longwinded though it might be, has a point. Claudia had one good night at the virtual tables and is now confident her luck will continue.”

  “I suspect you’re not telling me something,” Bernie said.

  I turned into the driveway and didn’t reply. I checked my phone as Rose and Bernie got out of the car. Still nothing from Amy Redmond. I considered trying Chuck Williams, but I decided not to. He was as likely to smile condescendingly at me and tell me not to worry my pretty little head about men’s business as listen to what I had to say.

  I knew, I thought I knew, who killed Tommy Greene. And why. But that person wasn’t going anywhere, not immediately, and I’d wait until I could speak to Redmond.

  As my grandmother climbed the steps to the veranda I signalled to Bernie to wait. I put the car in the garage and then joined her. Redmond wasn’t answering my calls, but I needed to tell someone what I was thinking.

  “I have no proof,” I said, “but I’ve been thinking it over and—”

  Her phone rang. She looked at me, and I gave her a wave, telling her to answer if she wanted.

  “Hi, Matt. What’s up?” Her eyes widened as she listened. She turned her back on me, but I could still hear. “Nothing much. Yes, that would work. Yes, I’d like that. Thanks. See you then.”

  She put her phone away and turned back to me. The color was high in her cheeks, her green eyes sparkled, and her face was one big grin. “That was Matt.”

  “Was it now? What did he want?”

  “He thought that if I wasn’t doing anything tonight, maybe we could go out. There’s a new band playing at this place he likes in town, and he wants to hear them. Maybe we can grab some dinner first. That’s if you don’t have anything you need from me. Do you?”

  I almost said I’d been counting on her helping me work tonight just to see the expression on her face, but I decided not to be mean. “Nothing. I’m going to bake for a while. Not too long.”

  “Great! I mean, okay. I mean, it’s a casual outing with a friend to hear some music. Nothing important, right?”

  “Right. Super casual.”

  “I wonder what I should wear. He said a band, but he didn’t say what kind of band. Heavy metal? Classical ensemble?” She spun on her heels and took two steps toward her car. Then she stopped and turned back. “Sorry. You had something you wanted to say?”

  “It’ll keep. Have a nice evening.”

  * * *

  I arrived at Tea by the Sea just in time. They were running out of scones and getting low on fruit tarts and cupcakes. I put my apron on, my head down, and got stuck into it.

  Marybeth and Cheryl cleaned up after closing and prepared the dining room for another day tomorrow. When they were taking off their aprons and gathering their purses, I asked, “Did you hear anything more from the police?”

  “I saw Chuck Williams in the garden, poking around that area they’d cordoned off,” Marybeth said. “Looking as though he was Sherlock Holmes searching for patterns in the turn of a leaf or a bent blade of grass or something. All he needed was the deerstalker cap and magnifying glass. He looked like a fool.”

  “He is a fool,” Cheryl said, “always has been, always will be, but he’s also our town’s lead detective. He saw me watching him when I was serving on the patio and gave me the death stare.” She wrapped her arms around herself against a sudden shiver.

  “He didn’t come in?” I asked. “He didn’t try to talk to you?”

  “No.”

  They left, and I continued baking. I’d been wanting to try a new recipe for a coconut and lime drizzle cake, and tonight seemed as good a night as any.

  * * *

  The ringing of my phone dragged me out of a comfortable baking reverie. When I looked up from the dough in the bowl in front of me and glanced out the window, I was surprised to see that the trees on the far side of the road were dark shapes outlined against the eastern sky. I can get lost sometimes, lose all track of time, when I’m working. My hands were sticky with cookie dough, but when I saw the name on the phone’s display, I stabbed the button with a finger and yelled, “Detective Redmond. Hold on a minute. I have to wash my hands.”

  I ran for the sink, scrubbed and then dried my hands. I scooped the phone off the counter. “So sorry. Are you still there?”

  “I am. What’s up?”

  “Did you get my messages?”

  “I’ve been tied up. I’m in Boston.”

  “Has some evidence regarding the Tommy Greene case arisen in Boston?”

  “Believe it or not, Lily, the police often have to work on more than one case at a time. Never mind. I’m here on a personal matter.”

  “Oh, sorry.” I never stopped to consider that Amy Redmond had a personal life. I knew she’d come from Boston to join the NAPD.

  “It’s okay, Lily. My grandmother’s caregiver took ill suddenly, and my parents are out of town. I flew in a short while ago to check on Grandma and stay with her tonight. The agency that provides the caregivers will have someone here tomorrow morning. I expect to be in North Augusta by lunchtime. Do you have some new information? Something about the attack on Simon last night? If so, you can speak to Chuck Williams.”

  “No new information, but I’ve been thinking it over, and I—”

  I heard a low, shaking voice in the background, and Redmond said, “Hold on, Grandma. I’ll be off in a minute.”

  “It’ll keep,” I said.

  “Okay. Talk to you tomorrow. If anything happens, call Detective Williams.” She hung up.

  I studied the phone in my hand. I could call Williams, tell him what I suspected. Instead, I decided it could wait until Redmond got back tomorrow. The TV crew wasn’t going anywhere—they had several more days of filming before they were due to leave North Augusta.

  * * *

  It was full dark by the time I decided I’d done enough baking for tonight. I was pleased with the new cake recipe, and I hoped my customers would be, too. I put the ingredients away, washed up the baking equipment, wiped down the countertops, and threw my apron and dishcloths into the laundry basket.

  I checked the back door was locked, and the light over the door was on, and left through the dining room. I paused for a moment to admire the empty restaurant in the dim glow coming from the vestibule. My place. The jams and jellies, chutneys and teas we sold were neatly lined up on their shelf, next to teacups and side plates, teapots, and assorted teatime accessories. The tables were laid with crisp white tablecloths and colorful linen napkins. The cutlery was silver; fresh flowers were tucked into slim glass vases. The center table featured a wide silver bowl overflowing with short-stemmed red roses grown in our own gardens. The light was dim, the room quiet, the air full of the lingering scents of tea and fresh baking.

  I smiled to myself, feeling genuinely happy. I might not be chosen as the winner of America Bakes! but I was a winner in my own mind, and that’s all that mattered.

  I left through the vestibule, leaving the light on and ensuring the door was locked behind me, and walked slowly home.

  Cloud cover was thick, and only a scattering of individual stars broke the velvet blackness of the night sky. Lights shone from some of the upstairs guest rooms at Victoria-on-Sea. I walked slowly, enjoying the night and the scents of freshly cut grass and a myriad of flowers, mingling with salt from the sea. Simon had texted me earlier to say he’d come to work, and I’d been vaguely aware of the buzz of the Weedwacker late this afternoon, but he hadn’t come into the tearoom.

  Other than the dim light over his porch, Matt Goodwill’s house was wrapped in darkness. I wondered if he was still out with Bernie, and how their date was going. She might have tried to downplay it, tell me it was nothing other than a casual night out with a friend, but the excitement on her face told me otherwise. I liked Matt. He was good for her, and I was happy they’d finally realized it. I should say, she’d finally realized it. He’d liked her from the moment he first laid eyes on her. She’d suspected him of being a murderer.

  I should have been on alert. I should have remembered what had happened to Simon only last night, but I was in a place I loved, and the peace of the night put me off guard.

  I rounded the big house, heading for my cottage and my dog, and the lights faded away. A figure stepped out of the shadows.

  “Good evening, Lily. I figured you’d be passing this way before much longer.”

  Chapter 22

  I should have told Bernie what I knew, even if she’d then decided to skip her date with Matt. I should have told Amy Redmond what I knew, regardless of whether her grandmother was calling her. I should have called Detective Williams and ignored his scorn.

  But I hadn’t. I’d foolishly not told anyone.

  I instinctively took a step backward as I swallowed heavily. I slipped my hand into my pocket and gripped the comforting weight of my phone. I fumbled at it, trying to find the tiny indentation that was the ON button. “Goodness. You startled me,” I said, trying to keep the fear out of my voice. “You’re out late. What brings you here?”

  “You do, Lily,” Reilly Miller said. “Let’s take a walk.”

  “Thanks, but no. It’s late, and I’ve had a long day. We can talk tomorrow.” I started to walk away, ready to break into a run. I could see my little cottage up ahead, wrapped in darkness.

  Reilly grabbed my arm. “I said, let’s walk.”

  Reilly had killed Tommy Greene and attacked Simon. Reilly was ambitious. Reilly didn’t want to be assistant director under a father he didn’t like or respect. He wanted control of America Bakes!, and he wanted everyone who mattered to know he had control. Make that show an even bigger hit, and he’d be invited to go on to bigger and better things. Tommy Greene had decided to quit. He didn’t like being on TV, he didn’t like being away from his family, and he missed cooking and running his own restaurant. He’d made up his mind as he walked with me through the garden, as he realized that a job that involved upsetting innocent people like Marybeth wasn’t something he was prepared to do any longer.

  I’d left Tommy standing at the bluffs. His phone records showed he hadn’t made any calls in the hours before he died, so he hadn’t told Reilly he needed to talk, but I believed Reilly had been lurking around the property all week. He seemed to like to keep an eye on what was going on. He’d been watching Simon last night; he was waiting for me tonight. Had Tommy run into Reilly and told him then and there what he’d decided? Why they’d gone into Tea by the Sea, through the door accidently left unlocked, I didn’t know. It didn’t really matter, not now. Maybe Tommy needed to talk his feelings over, to explain, and he wanted to show Reilly what restaurants meant to him.

  Tommy’s death was a huge blow to the program, and for that reason, I hadn’t at first considered either Reilly or Josh to be serious suspects in his death. But Tommy leaving voluntarily would have also been a huge blow to the show, and it might not have been able to survive. Tommy Greene was the star; he was the reason people watched America Bakes! Another chef of his caliber and reputation might not have wanted to follow him, to be nothing but the replacement, the second choice.

  Tommy’s death changed everything. Mega publicity for the show. A highly publicized hunt for his replacement. Big-name chefs, like “that Scottish guy,” would be happy to take the place of their fallen comrade and garner all the attention that would receive.

  And so Reilly made his move and got rid of Tommy before Tommy could announce his intention to quit. Emboldened, he began pushing his father aside, making the decisions himself. Turning America Bakes! into his show. Earlier, he’d argued with Josh about having Tommy humiliate a waitress. Reilly was finished with arguing.