Detectives Amy Redmond and Chuck Williams didn’t need patrol cars or uniforms or badges to look like cops. He was in his late fifties, overweight, balding, bored with his job, bored with his life. His more-than-ample belly hung over the belt holding up his ill-fitting suit pants, and his tie sported a fresh coffee stain. She, on the other hand, was young and sharp and keen. Tall and fit, with dyed blond hair cut close to her head, and dark watchful eyes. Slim-fitting jeans, white T-shirt under a black leather jacket, and low-heeled black boots. They were a mismatched pair, but no one would mistake either of them for anything other than what they were.

  Karen, wide-eyed with interest, watched them approach. Redmond glanced at her as they passed, and Karen forced out a stiff smile.

  The police climbed the stairs. Karen followed. She was in her late fifties, much the same age as her friends, brown hair lightened with caramel highlights cut in a neat bob, subtle makeup well applied. She was slim without being skinny, several inches shorter than my five foot eight, dressed in white capris, a loose-flowing pale blue shirt, and small gold earrings. Her glasses were large with thick black square frames. “Goodness,” she said to me, “are those people police officers? They certainly look it. What’s happening?”

  “A guest took ill,” I said. “An ambulance had to be called.”

  “Sorry to hear that.” A paperback mystery novel peeked out from the top of her tote bag, and she kept her eyes on the police as she spoke to me. I suspected she found the real police drama passing in front of her of more interest than what was in the pages of her book.

  I didn’t reply, and she hurried to add, “I hope it’s nothing contagious. I’m not feeling very well myself. I didn’t feel up to going out on a boat. We were supposed to be going whale watching, so I told my friends to go ahead without me, and I grabbed a cab back here.”

  “I hope you’ll be feeling better soon,” I said.

  “Thanks. I’ll go to my room now.” She went into the house, still watching the police out of the corner of her eyes.

  “Lily?” Amy Redmond said. “Can you fill us in as to what happened here, please?”

  Jenny got to her feet. She held out her hand, and the detectives shook it in turn. “I’m Jenny Hill. I’m from Lowell, Massachusetts, and I’m here to celebrate my daughter’s wedding, which was originally scheduled for tomorrow.” She pointed toward the rose garden. “That’s my daughter, Hannah, there. With Greg Reynolds, her fiancé. It’s Greg’s father, Ralph, who passed away.”

  “Are you and your daughter staying here?” Redmond asked.

  “No. We’re at the Pierside Hotel. Greg called to tell us what happened. We arrived not more than a few minutes ago.”

  Officer Bland had come outside when she heard the detectives’ voices. She cleared her throat and said, “Detectives, an accusation has been made. The family are gathered inside.”

  “Accusation?” Jenny said. “What does that mean? What sort of accusation? I assumed Ralph had another heart attack. Isn’t that right?”

  “Another heart attack?” Williams asked.

  “He had one last year. Greg told us about it at the time. We . . . Ralph and I . . . were not close.”

  “Mr. Reynolds’s family are waiting for you in the drawing room, Detectives,” I said. “You know the way.”

  “So we do,” Redmond said dryly.

  “Dare I hope your grandmother’s on an extended vacation?” Williams asked me.

  “Sorry, no.”

  He sighed and went into the house. Redmond lifted one eyebrow at me and followed him.

  I glanced toward the rose garden. Greg and Hannah, still holding hands, were approaching. Jenny pushed herself to her feet and put on a fake smile of welcome.

  “What’s happening in the bedroom?” Williams was asking Bland when I came in.

  Karen’s curiosity had gotten the better of her need to lie down and she hovered under the stairs, trying—and failing—to be unobtrusive.

  “Guy’s been dead for a couple of hours at least,” Bland replied. “Medics are packing up, and the coroner’s been called. Officer Kowalski’s staying with the deceased. One of the man’s sons is with him.”

  “I’ll have a look,” Williams said to Amy Redmond. “You check on the family, and I’ll join you in a couple minutes. Keep them all where they are until we can speak to them. I can’t believe we’re here again.” He shook his head and lumbered off. He put one foot on the bottom step and noticed Karen. “Can I help you, madam?” he asked, his tone clearly indicating he wanted to be of no help at all.

  “No. No thank you, I’m good.” She waved a room key at him and scurried off to open the door to room 102.

  “Before we talk to anyone, Lily,” Redmond said, “fill me in on what happened.”

  I did, trying to be as concise and succinct as possible.

  “When Jocelyn called us, she said the man’s mother accused his wife of having had something to do with it.”

  “I heard that, yes. But I don’t know anything about it. The guest’s room was locked, and I had to use my key to get inside. The man was lying on the bed; no one else in the room. I suppose they might have been hiding in the closet. We didn’t search.”

  “My officer would have. Although in the commotion someone might have slipped out. Was someone in the room the entire time, following the discovery of the body, before we arrived?”

  “Yes. Ivan, the elder of the man’s sons, stayed with him.”

  “Go on.”

  “I wasn’t in the guest room for long, but I saw no signs of anything like a disturbance.”

  “Does the door to that room lock from the outside?”

  “It can be locked from the outside with the key, but it locks automatically when the door’s pulled shut.”

  “Okay. Let’s see about this accusation.”

  In the drawing room, Sophia sat alone on the couch, head down, twisting the rings on her left hand. Regina was in Rose’s chair, stiff and still, her expression ferocious. Rose perched uncomfortably on the unfamiliar couch. Robert the Bruce sat on her lap, watching everything, and Simon stood protectively next to her. Dave scrolled through his phone. Edna had left after laying out fresh mugs for the new arrivals.

  Rose gave us a relieved smile when we came in. “Ah, the good Detective Redmond. Inspector Williams not with you today? What good fortune.”

  “Detective Williams is checking the scene upstairs, Mrs. Campbell. He’ll be joining us shortly.” Redmond attempted to speak sternly, but she failed to stifle a grin. Williams and Rose had butted heads on more than one occasion. The detective introduced herself to Regina and Sophia, and said, “My condolences. If you—”

  “You can begin by asking my daughter-in-law if she killed my son,” Regina said. “That will save us a great deal of trouble.”

  “I’m not answering that ridiculous accusation,” Sophia said, before proceeding to answer it. “I saw my husband last night at dinner, and we went our separate ways when we got back here. Allow me to assure you, I did not see him again.”

  “Did you and he dine alone?”

  “No. My eldest son and my”—a glance toward Regina—“husband’s mother came with us. My younger son and his friend had dinner with his fiancé. My daughter joined friends of her own. I don’t know where they went.”

  “Ridiculously overpriced restaurant,” Regina said. “I told Ralph it looked like a tourist trap to me, but did he ever listen. No, I—”

  “Did you, Mrs. Reynolds, and your party return here together?”

  “We did,” Sophia said.

  “Yes,” Regina said. “We took a taxi.”

  “Continue, please.”

  “I hope you’ll excuse my mother-in-law,” Sophia said. “She has not been herself of late, as anyone can tell you, and the stress over my son’s upcoming wedding has not helped her mental state.”

  Regina pounded her cane on the floor. “She’s been wanting to do away with him for years, and she finally made her move.”

  “You’ve never approved of me,” Sophia said. “Never. Because I tried to stop you from constantly ordering Ralph about, as though he was still in grade school. Is this how you’re getting back at me?”

  “Stop this! Both of you.” Greg stood in the doorway. Jenny and Hannah hovered behind him. “My dad’s lying dead above your heads and all you can do is snipe. I’m sorry, Grandma, but you’re out of line. Detective, my grandmother is clearly overcome by her grief and she needs to rest. May I take her to her room?”

  Dave leapt to his feet, relieved at the chance to have something to do. “Why don’t I do that?”

  “I am not a child to be tucked into bed while the adults discuss important matters,” Regina said.

  “You’re acting like one,” Sophia said.

  “Mrs. Regina Reynolds,” Redmond said, “if you have something specific to say, I’d like to hear it. Lily, may we use your dining room?”

  “Yes. Of course.”

  Dave slowly sat back down. Regina huffed. “I’ve said my piece. It’s up to you to find the evidence.”

  “I’m afraid it doesn’t work that way.” Williams came into the drawing room. “Detective, a moment of your time.” He jerked his head in the direction of the hallway.

  “I fear the coffee’s getting cold,” Rose said brightly. “Lily, love, do be a dear and refresh the pot. Hannah, my dear girl, how nice to see you. Good morning, Jenny. Greg, why don’t you offer Hannah and her mother some refreshment?”

  I picked up the still-warm coffeepot and carried it out. The detectives and Officer Bland were standing by the front door, talking in low voices. I lingered, eavesdropping, as had obviously been Rose’s intent in sending me on the unnecessary errand.

  “No obvious signs of trauma,” Williams said. “Nothing in the room appears to be disturbed, other than a bottle of whiskey and one glass.”

  “Medics said the same,” Bland added. “Heart attack most likely. Bottle of top-shelf whiskey almost empty, and the glass had been used.”

  “We’ll see what the autopsy has to say,” Williams said, “but unless it comes up with something, I’m not wasting my time on family squabbles.”

  “Lily,” Redmond said. “May we be of assistance?”

  I held up the coffeepot as evidence of my innocent intentions. “Just getting more coffee. Can I ask you a question?”

  “Go ahead.”

  “How many drinking glasses were in the room?”

  “I only saw the one,” Bland said. “It was on the floor. Empty. Smelled of whiskey. I can check with the forensic people.”

  “Why are you asking that, Lily?” Redmond asked.

  “Each room contains two glasses. An item on the housekeepers’ daily checklist is to ensure there are two clean glasses on the tray with the tea and coffee things. It’s entirely possible one glass was taken outside and not returned. For having drinks on the veranda, or something. That happens a lot, but I thought I’d mention it.”

  “Good to know,” Redmond said. “Anything else we should know, Lily?”

  “I unlocked the door, and I was the first person in the room. I didn’t . . . look carefully, but I did see that Mr. Reynolds was fully dressed. Other than his shoes. He was lying on top of the covers. That doesn’t indicate to me he went to bed and died in his sleep.”

  Redmond grinned. “Nicely observed. Officer, any comments on that?”

  “Almost empty bottle of whiskey on the side table,” Bland said. “Used glass fallen onto the carpet. We packed those up for you to send to the lab. Strong smell of tobacco on his clothes. The guy was overweight, by a lot. His wife says he had a heart attack a year or so ago, although the old lady claims it was nothing but bad heartburn.”

  “I’ve had heartburn bad enough I thought I was having a heart attack,” Williams said.

  “I’ll file that piece of information away for future reference,” Redmond said. “We’ll check with his doctor about this previous heart incident. What you’re saying, Officer Bland, is that a heart attack is possible?”

  “I am. He takes off his shoes and sits on his bed to have a drink. He has more than one drink. Doesn’t feel well. Lies down, and . . . good night.”

  “Lily,” Redmond asked. “Did you make any observations on the man’s state of health?”

  I thought. “Overweight, like Jocelyn says. Ruddy face. Obvious rosacea on his nose. At a mere guess, I’d say his health wasn’t good, and he was likely a heavy drinker. He smoked cigars.”

  “Yeah. Found a box of cigars on the dresser,” Bland said. “I packed those up, too.”

  “We’ll have that room gone over,” Redmond said, “and order an autopsy. But until we have evidence the guy didn’t simply lie down and die due to excessive alcohol consumption and unhealthy living habits”—she couldn’t resist a sly glance at Chuck Williams—“I’m not getting in the middle of a family feud. Lily, how long are they booked to stay here?”

  “Until Tuesday, I think. Rose handles the reservations.”

  “We’ll check with her. Do you know where they live?”

  “Boston area, I’ve been told, but I don’t know precisely where.”

  “Far enough away, it’s unlikely they’ll want to leave before we release the man’s body. I want to have a look at the scene myself before we go. Jocelyn, will you get everyone’s contact info please and tell them we’ll be in touch. If the elder Mrs. Reynolds asks what’s happening about her accusations, say we’re looking into all possibilities.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Jocelyn Bland turned to do as she’d been asked. “Can I help you?”

  I also turned to see who she was speaking to. Karen, the bridge player with the big glasses, stood at the door of her room farther down the hall, peeking out.

  “Pardon me,” she said. “I’m not feeling too well, so I was hoping someone could give me a couple of aspirin.”

  “This is not a good time,” Williams said.

  “I’ll check with my grandmother,” I said. “If she has any, I’ll bring something to you when I’m finished here.”

  “Thank you. Sorry to bother you.” She slipped quietly back into her room and shut the door.

  “I wouldn’t worry too much about the aspirin, Lily,” Redmond said. “I’ve seen that type many times before. She wants to know what’s going on and had to come up with an excuse on the fly when she was caught listening to what’s none of her concern. Which reminds me. How many other guests do you have this morning?”

  “Six, I think. Four friends here to play cards, including that lady, and another couple. Hikers, I think they are.”

  “Take statements from them, Jocelyn,” Redmond said. “Ask if they saw or heard anything in the night or early hours of this morning. Also ask if they’ve met the deceased or anyone in his party prior to arriving here.”

  “Got it,” she said.

  “I have something else you’ll want to know,” I said. “About Mr. Reynolds.”

  “What?” Williams asked.

  “I don’t know these people, and I’ve had hardly anything to do with them, but even so I’ve sensed some dissent around this impending marriage they’ve supposedly all gathered here to celebrate.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Ralph Reynolds wanted his son to call off the wedding. With only two days remaining until the ceremony. Mr. Reynolds offered him money, but Greg refused, point blank.”

  “You know this how?”

  I explained what I’d overheard.

  “Speaking of listening in to conversations you are not party to,” Redmond said.

  “We run a hotel,” I said. “People bring their problems with them, and it’s not my fault if they want to discuss those problems in my hearing.”

  “I’m not criticizing, Lily,” she said. “Just commenting. You’d be surprised, or maybe not, at the number of cases we can put to rest because the miscreants don’t know not to talk in front of restaurant and hotel staff. Anything else?”

  I was about to mention that someone else had been listening to the men last night, but I held my tongue. I couldn’t identify anyone, and I wasn’t entirely sure what I had seen. Likely someone who, like me, found themselves listening to a conversation they didn’t want to hear.

  “I’m sure you’re anxious to get to work, Lily,” Williams said. “We’ll have to ask your grandmother to keep that room out of bounds until we’ve finished with it. Don’t let your cleaners in until we give the all-clear.”

  I sighed. An empty room in the middle of the summer. No way to run a business. I hoped the Reynolds family wouldn’t ask for a refund.

  At that moment the front door swung open, and McKenzie Reynolds swept in. The very picture of a well-off young woman on vacation, her long blue beach dress flowing behind her like the surf, blue beads around her wrists and neck clattering like squabbling seagulls, hair streaming behind her.

  She came to a screeching halt, lowered her sunglasses, and peered at the detectives. “What on earth is going on here?” she asked me. “A couple of police cars are parked out front. I’ve had, like, a hundred phone calls from my mom and my brothers.”

  Redmond and Williams said nothing.

  “Hi,” McKenzie said.

  “Hello,” Detective Williams said.

  “Did you speak to your mother?” I asked.

  “Not yet. I’ve recently started with a new therapist. She says I need to be more mindful of my surroundings. I went for a walk on the beach, when Simon said he didn’t have time to show me the garden, and I turned my phone off. My therapist says I have to do that if I want to be truly mindful. I turned it on now, and—”

  “Your mother and one of your brothers are in the drawing room,” I said. “Why don’t you join them?”

  “What are they doing in there? I thought Mom was going to the spa this morning, and don’t Greg and Ivan have, like, wedding things to do?”

  I didn’t reply. Williams and Redmond watched McKenzie.

  Slowly, comprehension began to make its way through her veil of self-absorption. “Is . . . something wrong?”

  “I’m sorry,” I said, “But yes. Something is wrong.”