“I haven’t got a clue,” Reilly said. “The whole place is crawling with cops, and we’ve been told not to unload the trucks.”

  The guests, the ones who had not been invited for a private chat, chittered with excitement. I could tell by the expression on Edna’s face that Rose had given her the news. Edna’s husband was the longtime editor in chief of the local newspaper. She knew how to keep a secret.

  Rose gripped her cane. “Allow me to show you to the drawing room, Detective.”

  “I know the way, thank you.”

  “Nevertheless, it would be my pleasure. Edna, carry on with what you’re doing.”

  “I have no intention of doing otherwise, Rose,” Edna said.

  Slowly, ever so slowly, my grandmother tapped her way across the room. Claudia and Josh exchanged worried glances and then stood up. They, plus Detective Redmond and Reilly, fell into step behind Rose. Robbie ran on ahead.

  Bernie put down the coffeepot, and Rose said, “Bernadette, you may continue to assist Edna.”

  “But—” Bernie began.

  “Thank you so much, dear.” Rose sniffed the air. “Is something burning?”

  Bernie got the hint and headed for the kitchen.

  “I have a full crew cooling their heels down by the tearoom,” Reilly said. “I need you to tell your people to get out of their way and let them get set up. Time is money, Detective.”

  “Is it? Then I thank you not to waste my time with foolish demands. Lily, will you find the missing guest? Scarlet is it? Ask her to join us.”

  “Sure. Rose, what room’s Scarlet in?”

  Rose fumbled in her pocket for her keys to open the desk drawer and get out the registration ledger.

  “Two-oh-two,” Josh said. “I mean, I think she’s in two-oh-two.”

  “You think, do you?” Claudia snickered.

  “Call your people,” Redmond said to Reilly, “and tell them no one’s to leave the property until they’ve been spoken to.”

  Josh threw up his hands. “Will someone tell me what’s going on?”

  “In due course,” Redmond said calmly.

  Reilly took out his phone and sent a quick text.

  “I can’t fail to notice,” Claudia said, “that no one is being sent to fetch Tommy.”

  “Tommy?” Reilly looked around. “Where is Tommy?”

  “After you’ve got Scarlet, love,” Rose said to me, “the linens need sorting. I’ll sit right here to keep the curious out of the way of the police.”

  I got the message and ran up the stairs. I knocked on the door of room 202, and a voice said, “All right, all right. I’m coming. Give me a minute, will you!”

  “It’s Lily Roberts. I’m sorry, but you need to come down immediately.”

  A moment later the door cracked open and a pale face peered out. Scarlet’s face was clean of makeup, her long hair hung limply around her shoulders, and she was still in her nightgown. “What do you want?” Not prepped for the cameras, she was, I thought, almost unrecognizable.

  “The police are downstairs, and they want to talk to you.”

  “The police? Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “Not being ridiculous.”

  She stepped away without opening the door fully. I pushed it open and stood in the entrance. She’d been given one of our best rooms, with a view over the bay and a small private balcony. All the rooms at Victoria-on-Sea, except for the kitchen, are decorated as though Queen Victoria might drop by at any moment in search of a place to spend the night. This one was very feminine in shades of peach and sage green. The decorative pillows and the thick duvet had been tossed onto the floor, the French provincial dresser was covered with pots of makeup, and the dress Scarlet had been wearing yesterday was tossed over a chair. The sheets on the king-sized bed were a total jumble, and the pillows thrown haphazardly on the floor.

  “I’m not exactly dressed.” She indicated her nightgown, a sleek floor-length satin sheath in an attractive lilac shade with a deeply plunging neckline trimmed with yellow lace.

  “Pull that on and come down.” I pointed to the dress on the chair.

  “I’m not wearing the same dress I wore yesterday, and I’m not going downstairs without my makeup on and my hair done. I have an image to protect, you know.”

  “The police don’t care what you’re wearing or about your image. I’m pretty sure there won’t be any filming today.”

  “You have no idea what you’re talking about. Is Reilly making a fuss because I’m late for his little breakfast meeting? Too bad.” She plopped onto the small stool in front of the dresser and studied her face. Clearly, I was dismissed.

  “Scarlet,” I said, refusing to be dismissed. “I’m not kidding. The police are here, and they are not known for their patience. If you don’t come down with me, an officer will be the next to come and get you. He’s unlikely to say please.”

  She swung around. “You are serious, aren’t you?”

  “Yes. I am.”

  She sighed heavily, letting me know what an imposition this was. “Very well. If I must. Lead the way.”

  “Aren’t you going to put some clothes on?”

  “Why should I? Everything’s covered, isn’t it?”

  “I suppose it is.” I’ve seen plenty of evening dresses substantially more revealing.

  She swept her phone off the night table, stuffed it into the bodice of her nightgown, and followed me.

  Downstairs, Rose had taken her seat at the registration desk and was pretending to consult the computer. The double doors to the dining room were closed, muffling the conversation coming from within. The drawing-room door was open, and I indicated to Scarlet to go ahead. She took a deep breath, lifted her head, straightened her shoulders, and marched in. I followed.

  “Here I am,” she said. “What nonsense is this that I can’t even be allowed time to get decently dressed?”

  “Are you Scarlet McIntosh?” Redmond asked.

  “I am. And who, may I ask, are you, darlin’?” The Louisiana accent was very strong.

  Redmond didn’t answer. Instead, she said, “That’s all, Lily. Thank you. Please shut the door as you leave.”

  I did as ordered.

  I looked at my grandmother. She gave me a nod. No one else was in the hallway, so I slipped into the linen closet and pulled the door shut behind me. My ears alert for the sound of approaching footsteps or Rose’s discreet cough, I pulled place mats, tablecloths, and napkins off the bottom two shelves and dumped them on the floor. I lifted the shelves off their brackets and propped them against the wall, and then my probing fingers found a lever at the back of the closet. I pulled it, and a small door swung silently open. I crouched down and waddled into the space revealed.

  Rose and I hadn’t built the secret room, but we’d discovered it during renovations after she’d bought the place. Other than the contractors, no one but she and I knew about it, not even Edna or Bernie. The room had obviously been built specifically to listen in on conversations in the drawing room, as the adjoining wall was much thinner than other walls in the house. Not only that, but discreet holes had been drilled through the wall, and a painting hung over them. The house had been built in 1865 as a private home. The owners before Rose had also run the house as a B & B, but the secret room predated them. I’d love to know why someone living in a family house would feel the need to creep into the walls and listen to private conversations, but it was unlikely I’d ever find out.

  We had never intended to use the room to eavesdrop on our guests, but it had turned out to be surprisingly useful when the police commandeered the drawing room. We’d furnished the room with an old wingback chair, a small table, and a lamp with a dim bulb. I switched on the lamp and settled comfortably into the chair to listen. The sound came through the wall perfectly. Rose would stand—sit?—guard outside and let me know when it was safe to emerge.

  “I’m sorry,” Amy Redmond was saying on the other side of the wall, “but a man who I’ve been informed goes by the name of Tommy Greene was found dead this morning.”

  A moment of stunned silence followed her words before everyone began speaking at once.

  Scarlet: “Tommy’s dead?” She burst into tears.

  Claudia: “Nonsense. Man was fit as a fiddle.”

  Josh: “Clearly you’re mistaken. Reilly, call him again. He’s slept in. Probably went out on a bender last night.”

  Reilly: “I have to call the studio. We need to get someone down here ASAP to take his place.” A chair creaked as he stood up.

  Redmond: “You, sit down.” Another creak of the chair, and she continued, “Was Mr. Greene a heavy drinker, sir?”

  Reilly: “No. Not at all. Josh doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

  Josh: “Don’t take that tone with me. Tommy likes his beer. Man’s an Englishman. You know how they love their pubs.”

  Claudia: “I can assure you, young lady, that Tommy isn’t, despite what some may say, the type to go on a bender.”

  Scarlet, through her sniffles and blowing nose: “Can I go now? I have to call my agent.”

  Redmond: “No.”

  Josh: “That baker was with you when you came in. The young, pretty one.”

  When I realized he was referring to me, I felt rather pleased. That feeling didn’t last long.

  Josh: “She’s useless in front of the camera. Too nervous and doesn’t smile enough. I’ve been wondering if we can substitute the redhead for the blond one. More of a presence.”

  Reilly: “You can’t do that. You know what the rules of the show are. The owner or head baker has to do all the baking for us by themselves.”

  Redmond: “That is neither here nor there.”

  Josh: “Yeah. Okay. Did you find her with him, the blonde? Did she kill him?”

  Claudia: “You’re not thinking straight, which comes as no surprise to me, Joshua. If Lily had killed him, she wouldn’t be freely wandering the property, now would she?”

  Scarlet: “Who said anything about killing? It was a heart attack, wasn’t it, Detective?”

  A long, uncomfortable silence followed Scarlet’s questions. I imagined Amy Redmond studying them all, one at a time, them fidgeting in their seats, averting their eyes from her penetrating stare when it fell on them. Then Redmond said, “It’s early yet, but indications are that foul play might have been involved.”

  Reilly swore. Josh muttered. Claudia murmured what might have been a prayer. Scarlet wept with increased gusto.

  “One at a time, please, can you tell me where and when you last saw Mr. Greene?”

  “We went out to dinner together last night,” Josh said. “The three of us. Claudia, Scarlet, and me. Tommy didn’t come. We took a taxi into town and met up with Reilly and some of the crew. We must have left here around six, or shortly after.”

  “Why did Mr. Greene not join you?”

  “He just said he didn’t want to. Tommy wasn’t a man who felt he had to explain himself to anyone. We got back here, at a guess, around nine, maybe slightly after.”

  The women muttered agreement.

  “I didn’t see him again. No reason I should have,” Josh said. “We were in different rooms, and we had no business to discuss until this morning.”

  “Same with me,” Claudia said. “Josh, Scarlet, and I caught a cab back here after dinner, and then we went our separate ways. I retired early, as is my custom before an early call and a day of filming.”

  “And you?” Redmond asked.

  “I stayed in my room and watched TV,” Scarlet said. “Nothing else to do in this joint. Some of the crew were talking about going to a bar after dinner. What about you, Reilly? You were with them, as I recall.”

  “That’s right. We hit a couple of bars in town. I was back at my hotel by midnight. Can’t say what the rest of the crew got up to after that. I didn’t see Tommy after the day’s filming ended around four. We shot some footage in the garden after we finished in the tearoom. Turns out Tommy liked roses. Who knew?”

  “I’ll be speaking to this crew,” Redmond said. “I have to ask if you know of any reason someone might have attacked Mr. Greene?”

  Silence again.

  Claudia broke it. “Tommy could be, shall we say, temperamental. He was a perfectionist, but people he worked with understood that about him. He only wanted everyone to do their best. Any enemies he might have made over the years didn’t have anything to do with us or our show. You need to cast your net further afield, Detective. Tommy owns . . . owned . . . a chain of successful restaurants. The restaurant business, particularly in certain cities, can be a highly competitive one. He recently opened a new place in Las Vegas, I heard. Is that correct, Josh?”

  “Yup,” the director said.

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” Redmond said.

  “One thing did happen yesterday.” Reilly dragged the words out slowly, almost reluctantly.

  “What?”

  “Like Claudia told you, Tommy could be temperamental. He demanded the best of everyone and got angry when he didn’t get it. He had an incident with a waitress in the tearoom. She spilled tea on Tommy, and he overreacted.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Scarlet said. “He, like, flew into a total rage. He told the blond baker chick to fire her.”

  “What did Ms. Roberts say to that?” Redmond asked.

  “Nothing,” Reilly said. “She didn’t have a chance to say anything. The other waitress, the older one, stepped in. She was in a right fury, so much so I thought her reaction was way out of line. Tommy hadn’t said anything to her. She was like a mother bird if someone threatened her nest.”

  “I assume you’re talking about Cheryl Wainwright and Marybeth Hill,” Redmond said. “They are mother and daughter.”

  Reilly laughed. “That explains it. She, the mother, let Tommy have it. The look on his face when this short, chubby, middle-aged, small-town waitress dared to give the great Tommy Greene what for was priceless. What did she say, Dad? That someone needed to put a stop to his bullying once and for all. And it might well be her.”

  “Words to that effect,” Josh said.

  “You were witness to this?” Redmond asked.

  “Oh, yeah,” Reilly said. “We all were. Even better, I have the whole thing on film.”

  Chapter 8

  I was so startled by what Josh and Reilly had to say about Marybeth and Cheryl, implying they had reason to kill Tommy, that it took a moment for me to realize Reilly had referred to Josh as Dad. I decided to think about that later. For now, Tommy had told me he’d apologized to Marybeth and she’d accepted his apology. That may or may not be true, but until I learned otherwise, I’d assume he’d told me the truth. That’s the problem with eavesdropping on conversations you’re not intended to be party to. It would be difficult for me to tell Redmond what Tommy had told me without her wondering why I was mentioning it.

  Redmond then asked the group if they had any idea why Tommy would have been in the tearoom kitchen after hours last night or early this morning. They all claimed to be surprised to hear he was. The judges had been told to be on set at nine this morning, following a quick breakfast meeting with the director and assistant director. They had no reason to go to the tearoom before that. Scarlet giggled and wondered if Tommy had plans to meet up with the “blond baker chick,” who I assumed was me, but Claudia said Tommy didn’t have a reputation as a womanizer and had never been known to want to make friends with any of the competitors.

  “Doesn’t mean he wasn’t up for trying,” Reilly said, to which Redmond didn’t reply.

  She asked them about Tommy’s private life and if they’d seen anyone hanging around the set yesterday who shouldn’t have been there, or if they knew of anyone or anything that had been bothering him lately.

  “He’s been moody since we arrived in Massachusetts,” Claudia said. “It’s hard to tell with Tommy. He’s always moody, but I thought more so than usual lately.”

  “Do you have any idea if something was bothering him?”

  “No. Sorry. We weren’t friends. I don’t think he had any friends in the crew. I don’t mean people didn’t like him, just that he had no interest in making friends with any of us. We have a job to do, and when it’s over, we go back to our own lives without so much as another word.”

  “I like making friends,” Scarlet said.

  No one replied.

  I heard the door open, and Chuck Williams said, “How’s it going in here, Detective?”

  “These people have been very helpful. We’re almost finished. For now.”

  “Good. Good. Have any of you ever been in the kitchen of Tea by the Sea?”

  “We all have,” Reilly said. “As well as most of our crew. We’ve been filming in there over the past two days.”

  “How’d you get in?”

  “How’d we get in?” Josh repeated. “Through the door, of course. How else would we get in? We didn’t climb in the windows.”

  “I mean,” Williams said sharply, “who unlocked the door for you?”

  “No one,” Claudia said. “It’s a restaurant, and that means it’s open to the public. The doors aren’t locked during service hours. Even when we were filming outside and the guests were all on the patio, they had to be able to go to the restroom without a staff person escorting them in and out.”

  “How about the kitchen? Was that door locked?”

  “What are you asking us?” Reilly said. “We had the run of the place, as is part of the contract for the duration of the filming. Doors were open when we needed them to be. I don’t know or care who handled that.”

  “What about after hours?”

  A chair squeaked. “I have no idea what goes on in that place after hours,” Claudia said, “nor do I care. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Detectives, I’ve told you everything I know. This has all been most upsetting. I need to go upstairs and rest. Josh, when do you expect to need us on set?”

  “Your set,” Redmond said, “is closed until further notice.”

  “Moot point,” Josh said. “I have to talk to the network, see what they want to do now that . . . uh . . . we’re short a judge.”