“Yeah. Fine. I’m looking forward to dinner.”

  “Unassigned seating.” Jayne indicated the big round table in the center of the room. “Except for Andy and me with our families. Talk to you later.” She walked away and I looked around the room, searching for suitable table companions as everyone else did the same. I decided to join Mrs. Ramsbatten. “May I?” I asked.

  “Of course, you may, dear.” She indicated the vacant chair next to her and I sat down. I picked up the single printed page resting on top of my napkin. We would not be offered the full restaurant menu tonight, but a choice of soup or salad to begin, then either the fish, steak and frites, or pesto pasta, followed by birthday cake.

  Bunny brought George to our table, and he didn’t look as though he found that to be a hardship. Donald was next to sit down with a flurry of his tails.

  The lady on the other side of Mrs. Ramsbatten was in her late seventies, perhaps her well-preserved eighties. I looked for signs that she’d had work done on her face but didn’t see them. Either it had been exceptionally well done or her genes were that good. Probably the latter. She wore a glittering brown and silver pantsuit perfectly suited to her age and dignity, and her heavy gray hair was tied into a neat chignon. Diamonds glistened from her ears and throat. A silver cigarette case lay on the table next to her napkin and cutlery. You don’t often see cigarette cases these days.

  A young woman I hadn’t yet met plopped herself down next to the elderly lady. She was in her early twenties, dressed in a tight, sparkly pink dress revealing razor sharp collarbones and the outline of her breastbone. Rows of silver hoops ran up both ears. Her black hair, so black it had to be dyed, was cut very short. The aura of tobacco smoke hung around her like a cloud.

  One chair remained unoccupied.

  “Please, allow me to begin the introductions.” Mrs. Ramsbatten held out her arm toward me and dipped her hand. “Gemma, Jayne’s closest friend and bridesmaid. Also my next-door neighbor.” She continued around the table. “Bunny, a … retired singer. And … I don’t believe I caught your name, sir?”

  “I’m George Friedman. I own a couple of restaurants around the Cape. I gave Andy his start in the cooking business. Not that Andy needed much help.”

  Mrs. Ramsbatten continued, “Next to our new friend George, we have Donald, dear friend and noted scholar.” Donald beamed at being so regarded. “To my right, Audrey Whitehall, Andy’s great-aunt.” The older lady gave us a smile, revealing a mouthful of tobacco-stained teeth. “And her granddaughter, Madison.”

  The young woman in the pink dress lifted one hand and offered us the sort of wave the late queen specialized in. “Honorary granddaughter. Audrey and my grandma have been fast friends for a long, long time.”

  “Madison and I live in Los Angeles, and we’re here for the wedding,” Audrey explained. “I haven’t been back to Massachusetts for far too long, not since my own parents died, so I decided to give myself a treat and come early for Andy’s wedding. A nice vacation, as well as a long walk down memory lane. Heavens, I hardly recognize the place, so much has changed. Fortunately, the view out to sea has not. I have no children of my own, so dear Madison agreed to be my companion. She’s always so thoughtful that way.”

  Madison downed the last of her wine and looked around for a waiter.

  “Audrey Whitehall?” Bunny said with a considerable amount of awe. “From L.A.? Are you, possibly, the Audrey Whitehall?”

  Audrey dipped her head modestly.

  “I’m Bunny Leigh. After your time, I guess.”

  “I know the name. Toward the end of my time, as you put it.”

  I searched frantically through my memory banks for that name. Audrey’s bone structure was excellent, her skin still flawless beneath the lines laid down by time. Her eyes were wide and an unusual shade of deep blue, and her lips plump. She lived in California so she might have been an actress, but if so, that was long before I started paying attention to what was popular in movies or on TV. Not that I do, even now.

  My memory banks came up empty.

  Clearly, I was not the only one having trouble placing her. Everyone else at the table, with the exception of Madison, was looking blank, and trying to hide it.

  “Audrey Whitehall was the gossip columnist of note in Hollywood from the fifties to around the mid-nineties,” Bunny said. “She knew absolutely everyone. And she knew everything there was to know about them. More than a few major stars lived in fear of her, didn’t they, Audrey?” Bunny laughed.

  Clearly pleased at being recognized, Audrey smiled. “Ah, yes, the good old days.”

  “That must have been something,” George said as he helped himself to a bread roll, warm and fragrant. “Hollywood in the fifties. Wow!”

  “Now but a mere shadow of its former self,” Audrey said.

  “Did you know Basil Rathbone?” Donald asked as he accepted the breadbasket. “In my mind, still the greatest portrayal of Sherlock Holmes on screen. Although I will admit Jeremy Brett did an excellent job and—”

  “Basil Rathbone,” Audrey said sharply, “was long before even my time.”

  Madison laughed. “You can’t pretend to be offended, Audrey. All those old-time actors blend into each other.”

  Audrey didn’t appear to be entirely pleased with the phrase “old-time,” but she let it go.

  The waiters begin serving our first courses. I’d selected the curried squash soup. Perfect for a cold winter’s night. Not that it was cold in here, far from it, but a good meal should be as much about atmosphere as taste.

  “What do you do, Madison?” Bunny asked politely after we’d all been served.

  “Me?” The girl speared a lettuce leaf. “I look after Audrey.”

  I glanced quickly at Audrey. She didn’t look as though she needed a full-time caregiver.

  “When I’m not doing that, I’m an influencer,” Madison said.

  “A what?” Donald asked.

  “An influencer. You know, I’m all over the socials. I have almost a hundred thousand followers on Insta and more joining each day. People like my style, and so they want to be like me.”

  “Is that a job?”

  “A totally useless and unnecessary job, one with the potential to influence a lot of people and thus make a good deal of money.” Audrey had taken a single sip of her soup before laying her spoon to one side and dabbing her lips. The breadbasket was offered to me, and I passed it on without taking anything. “Not that Madison has yet made any money out of this endeavor,” Audrey continued. “But give her time. In some ways, she’s following in my footsteps. Aren’t you, dear?” She patted the younger woman’s hand. Madison shrugged it off. “I could end a young actress’s career with a single word. It was harder to end an actor’s career, but not impossible. These days, everyone spreads their dirty laundry in public without a qualm. And no one much cares. People seem to have lost the ability to be shocked. What I wouldn’t give to get my hands on a truly juicy scandal. One last time.”

  “Do you still have contacts in L.A.?” Bunny asked. “I was in talks for a major motion picture bio of my life story about a year ago, but the option sorta … fizzled. I’m hoping to get it back on track, and then I have some ideas for a comeback album.”

  Audrey was saved from answering by the arrival of a new guest.

  A woman put her hands on the back of the empty chair at our table. “Do you mind if I join you? I’m a gatecrasher, but it looks like there’s a seat free. Lucky me.” Without waiting for our permission, she pulled out the chair and sat. Her face momentarily twisted in a slight wince, which she tried to hide with a smile. “Thanks. I’m Tina Armstrong. Nice to meet you all.”

  “A gatecrasher?” I said.

  “Just joking. My invitation must have gotten lost in the mail.” Her words were slightly slurred, her actions unsteady. Not her first stop of the night. “I’m a friend of Andy’s from way back.” She was around my age and stunningly beautiful. High sharp cheekbones in a thin pale face, small chin, huge hazel eyes under thick black lashes. Light brown hair, expertly highlighted, fell in a stylish, uncombed mess to her shoulders. Her only flaw was a small but noticeable scar running from the corner of her right eye down her cheek to curl around and disappear behind the bottom of her ear. Her body was tense, her smile forced, and she, probably unconsciously, stroked the line of the scar.

  She waved her arm in the air, and Robbie came over. His eyes widened as he saw her, clearly impressed by her looks. He started to smile, but the smile died when she failed to return it. “Still at it, I see,” she said with a dismissive sniff. “I’ll have a glass of pinot noir. That soup looks good. I’ll have that, and then whatever’s going for the main course.”

  Not pleased at being so easily dismissed, his face tightened, but he contained his anger and walked away.

  From the moment she sat down, Tina’s eyes began darting around the room, and they soon found what they were looking for. I half turned to see Andy slowly getting to his feet.

  Tina’s smile became even more forced as Andy approached. Before he reached our table, she jumped up with a squeal as fake as her long, light pink fingernails. She staggered slightly and almost fell into him. She saved herself by throwing her arms around him. “Andy! So great to see you!”

  He returned her hug with a brief, barely polite one of his own before pulling away. “Tina. It’s been a while.” His expression was flat, the tone verging on chilly.

  “I know! Way too long! My mom told me you’re getting married. Congratulations! I can’t wait to meet the lucky girl!”

  George asked Bunny about her comeback album, and Donald asked Madison what her favorite TV or movie interpretation of Sherlock Holmes was. “You mean, like Henry Cavell in that Millie Bobbie Brown movie? I liked that one.” She finished her glass of wine and searched for a waiter to bring her another.

  When Tina introduced herself, I saw a flicker of interest pass across Audrey’s face. Now the older woman ignored the conversation swirling around the table as she watched Tina and Andy

  I was also watching Tina and Andy. I wouldn’t have thought it possible for anyone to use so many exclamation marks in a sentence. Tina was more than simply excited at seeing Andy. She was extremely nervous.

  One didn’t have to be Sherlock Holmes to deduce that Andy was not thrilled to see her.

  “You don’t mind me popping in like this, I hope,” Tina trilled. “I wanted to have dinner here tonight, I’ve heard so much about what a great success you’ve made of this place. But when I tried to make a reservation, the web page said you were closed for a private event. I decided to have a walk on the pier anyway, even though it’s freezing out tonight, and I was passing, like, and I looked in and saw an empty seat. Wasn’t that lucky!”

  “Very lucky,” Andy said, clearly meaning it was anything but.

  Tina was tall and slim, dressed in a close-fitting knee-length navy-blue dress accented by a thin white belt, long silver earrings with a tiny pearl embedded at the ends, and a matching silver necklace with a single pearl. Her shoes were navy pumps with two-inch heels. Her makeup was subdued but recently applied. Not the sort of outfit one wore on a dark winter’s night for a walk along the icy, windswept pier.

  She covered another wince as she dropped back into her chair. Ashleigh put a glass of wine in front of her. Tina’s hand shook as she picked it up. The large ring on her right hand didn’t match her up-to-date outfit. Old-fashioned, verging on ostentatious, likely a family heirloom. Art Deco, featuring a square green stone, large enough to cover the first joint of her finger, set into a base of white gold. The stone was unlikely to be a genuine emerald, and the ring probably not excessively valuable, but it would have some sentimental value. An inheritance from a great-grandmother, perhaps.

  Andy appeared to be struggling with a decision. He reached it and let out a long breath. “Okay, Tina. You’re here now. One of my friends had to bail at the last minute when he had car trouble, so you might as well enjoy the dinner.”

  “Great! Thanks. I can’t wait to meet your newest girlfriend.”

  Mrs. Ramsbatten caught my eye, and her mouth formed a round “O.” Not the politest of ways to refer to Andy’s bride-to-be.

  “After dinner, maybe,” Andy said. He made to return to his own seat and then stopped and gave me a look. Conversation and laughter swirled all around us. Candlelight glowed, cutlery clinked, waitstaff slipped between the tables, bringing more drinks, clearing away soup bowls and salad plates.

  “Gemma stocks the Enola Holmes books in her store, if you’d like to read them,” Donald was telling Madison.

  “I don’t read,” she replied.

  Donald made a sound as though he were choking. I ignored him as I received the message Andy was attempting to send me. Tina was not welcome here, but short of throwing her out, he didn’t know what he could do. Other than ask me to keep an eye on her.

  I gave him a nod. His face relaxed as he returned it, and then he went back to his seat.

  When I refocused my attention on the table, Audrey was watching Tina, a sly smile playing on her red lips. Mrs. Ramsbatten once again went around the table, introducing the new arrival to everyone. Tina fiddled with her wine glass, drank a lot of it very quickly, and couldn’t have looked less interested if she tried. The only sign of interest she showed was when Mrs. Ramsbatten said Audrey’s name.

  “Nice necklace, Tina,” Madison said. “Did you buy it locally?”

  Tina’s hand grabbed the pearl. “This old thing? I hardly remember where I got it.”

  A tiny patch of glue was stuck to the side of the chain. The necklace was so new, the price tag had only just been torn off.

  “Too bad,” Madison said. “I’m an influencer, and I like to seek out cute little shops when I travel. The sort of places that sell locally made, organic, all-natural products. Your ring’s interesting.”

  Tina rubbed her finger. “A present. From a friend. It’s not worth much, but I like the old-world charm.”

  “Do you know anyone in the movie or music business, Madison?” Bunny asked.

  “I might be able to get your band a gig at one of my restaurants,” George said. “We’re always looking for good acts.”

  Bunny was forced to admit she didn’t actually have a backup band at the moment. But if George could find her a pianist—and a piano—she’d be willing to sing.

  “Tina,” Audrey said. “I didn’t catch your last name.”

  “Armstrong.”

  “Tina Armstrong.” Her tongue lingered over the name. “A good name. Unpretentious, yet not instantly forgettable, implying friendship and strength. You have a … presence about you, Tina, not to mention, if I may, Hollywood-friendly looks. Did you act at one point?”

  “I did. For a while.” Tina touched her scar. “It wasn’t for me. I gave it up. I didn’t much like Los Angeles.” Her laugh was more like a choke. “I was homesick the whole time for Cape Cod. So here I am, back again!”

  A silence fell over the table as the staff began serving the main course. I’d ordered the stuffed sole. I always have the sole at the Blue Water Café. Some people find it odd that I always have the same thing. Why risk trying something new and being disappointed, I reply. I also always have the clam chowder as a starter, but that hadn’t been on offer tonight so I had to satisfy myself with the squash soup. It was so good, I might have it another time.

  “I try to keep my hand in, when I can,” Audrey said once we were served and digging in. She spoke loudly, addressing the whole table. “The internet has ruined my profession. My former profession.”

  “Profession?” Tina asked.

  Audrey smiled at her. “As I explained before you arrived, I was a publicist for the movie industry, of a sort.”

  Madison laughed. “That’s one way of putting it.”

  “No need for my specific skill set any longer,” Audrey said. “Every scrap of dirt on anyone is out there the minute it happens. Heaven knows the stars themselves spread the gossip, trying to get ahead of the story, as they call it. Although not always. Some things remain buried deep.”

  “Yeah, Audrey, tell us about the good old days,” Madison mumbled as she dug into the pile of small, crispy fries next to her steak.

  Audrey’s lips twitched, but she pretended not to hear the comment. “Perhaps there’s simply too much information around now. Everything is available to everyone at any time. I made a point, as soon as it became a thing, of familiarizing myself with the world wide web. It’s become somewhat of a hobby for me in my retirement. Learning things, I mean.” Her eyes lingered on Tina, twirling pasta on her fork. And twirling. And twirling. “For example, I know that you, Gemma Doyle, own the Sherlock Holmes Bookshop and Emporium. I know you live with your uncle Arthur, renowned seaman, honored several times by the late queen for his service to your country.”

  “Great-Uncle Arthur,” I said.

  “My mistake. I know you are in a committed relationship with a West London policeman. I know you have some reputation for making it your business to know things others do not.”

  Donald’s eyes lit up and his ears almost stood to attention. “A quote! Do you know the Canon that well, Audrey?”

  “I might have heard the phrase somewhere, and it appealed to me. It might have even been applied to me, at one time.” She continued watching me as she spoke to Donald.

  “Cannons? Is he an artillery expert?” George asked Bunny. “Wouldn’t have thought it to look at him.”

  “He means the Sherlock Holmes books. They’re kinda obsessed with that stuff around here.”

  “My life is an open book,” I said. “I have no secrets.”

  “Mr. Morris,” Audrey said, “your dedication to Sherlock Holmes is to be admired.”

  Donald beamed. “Thank you so much. Perhaps after dinner, we can have a glass of brandy and discuss—”

  “Admired by those who care for that sort of nonsense. I do not. Mr. Friedman, you invited the once-famous Bunny Leigh to sing at one of your restaurants. I must say, I wouldn’t think her type of out-of-date pop music would suit the sort of so-called fine dining establishments you run. Or I should say are attempting to run. Some financial difficulties, I understand.”