 
Copyright © 2010 Jeanne Irelan

http://jeanneirelan.com/

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

THE ISLAND AFFAIR

A Judge Baby Godbold Mystery

BY

JEANNE IRELAN

Chapter 1

Visible between a curtain of trees to either side, the waters of the Gulf of Mexico lay smooth and serene with only irregular waves carving its surface. Slivers of surf were chucked onto the beach and sank into the sand. Judge Godbold stretched her body to full length on the lounge chair and yawned. Boring.

Behind her, seated at the glass-top patio table, Mary Rose was on the phone with Marilyn Usher as they tried to decide who should take up the slack as substitute hostess for the weekly bridge game. One of their group had been called away to the mainland for a family emergency, and it had been her turn to have the foursome the following week.

"I'd be happy to do it, Marilyn, except that Son's sister Baby just arrived a couple of days ago." She smiled at her sister-in-law. "And she's not interested in playing bridge. She said she won't mind if I go out, but having the group here does rather complicate things. She and Son will probably want to just get caught up, you know." She nodded several times as if to a camera instead of a telephone.

Baby Godbold laughed to herself as she heard the conjunction of her name and her brother's, his particularly odd coming from his own wife. How strange they must sound to those who didn't know their history. What had been quaint and convenient nicknames as children had unfortunately stuck beyond infancy into their mature years. And they were not alone. She thought of her sister Josephine, called Sister, and her brother James, called Brother. She didn't know where Son was at the moment, most likely catching up on his sleep with a little nap in front of the TV. He'd confessed to Baby that his only complaint with their island retreat was the excessive number of social gatherings that Mary Rose insisted they attend.

"A quiet evening in front of the TV or with a good novel would suit me most evenings."

Baby sympathized. Son had retired as a general in the army having spent his career not only in various conflicts but also with all the attendant military social obligations, a situation that had rankled him even in his younger days. But such a life had aptly suited the frivolous but good hearted Mary Rose. Uncritical, unthinking, and always popular social butterfly, she'd moved from pillar to post making legions of friends. After Son retired, her choice of a retirement home had been Hilton Head, but Son had put his foot down. A resort community, yes, but it would have to be quiet and small. And thus, Potiphar Island, a fanciful name for a dull place.

So his younger sister, Baby, also retired but from the judicial bench, had agreed to spend a few weeks in what she thought was a beautiful though uninteresting place--unless one played bridge or golf or liked to beachcomb. Luckily, she'd thought to bring along her electronic reading device with a supply of mystery e-books, mysteries being Baby's avocation. Not that she'd ever had a chance to work professionally on criminal cases; she'd been a Chancery court judge in Nashville, hearing disputes mainly over property and divorce cases. But she flattered herself that she'd established something of a reputation, despite the limitations of her job, as an amateur solver of crimes, a friend of the police and even the Tennessee Bureau of Investigation, who with her knowledge of human nature and an unerring sense of logic had managed to outwit more than one criminal.

The sun was settling comfortably into the western sky, leaving behind its usual brilliance of coral and gold. The breeze that had made the outdoors bearable for Baby had departed. She heaved herself to her feet and rummaged under the webbed recliner for her flip-flops.

"Is there a decent restaurant on this expanse of sand?" she inquired of her sister-in-law, who had ended her phone conversation. "I'd like to take you and Son out for dinner, if possible."

"No restaurant per se. Just a little café, but they don't serve after two o'clock. We always go to the club for a decent meal. But you don't have to worry for tonight, Baby. I forgot to mention, we have an invitation for dinner--well, a buffet--at the Penworthys'. Some one or the other of our crowd usually entertains one night a week. If you really want to take us out–which is entirely unnecessary, Baby, we'll have to go to the mainland."

"We'll try for next week. I think I might like to have a different view by then. This peace and quiet could wear on my nerves" But Baby smiled when she said this. She knew Mary Rose thought she was a bit daft, always on the alert for excitement, intrigue, the unseemly.

"A mainland trip would be fun. We might even go over early in the afternoon so I could do some shopping in Mobile. I could use a new set of linen napkins for one thing, maybe a new shorts set. Son could take in a movie."

"Is that your idea of a fun outing?" Baby asked wryly. She'd had in mind a museum or even a concert that the three of them could enjoy.

Mary Rose grimaced. "I know that sounds silly to you. But it works for me; it gives me an excuse to make a day of it, and then I get it out of my system for a while." She gave Baby a serious look. "Before moving here, I think I might have been doing too much shopping, you know, for something to do. Here, we have so many things going on all the time, I hardly give it a thought."

"That's good." So many things? Pleasurable activity was in the eye of the beholder. Baby took her shoes and Kindle and went into the house. Her room, like all the rooms, was on the ground level. The house was designed to catch the sea breezes with wide doors and windows for cross drafts, yet the air conditioning seemed to be constantly purring. Ceiling fans in

virtually every room slowly rotated, giving the place an exotic atmosphere. But it wasn't particularly exotic. Oh, thought Baby hopelessly, for an old retired salt or a dissolute beachcomber or even a shiftless native or two to spice up the island. All she'd met so far--and that had been for only three days--were mainly retired executives, professional people, and socialites. She presumed among the locals were hardworking and no doubt entrepreneurial types who catered to this well-off clientele but they were as yet unknown to her. And now she had a buffet to attend with the vacationing set. Boring.

Chapter 2

The Penworthys' house was only a hop, skip, and jump away from Son and Mary Rose's, so they decided to walk to the evening get-together. The houses of many of the resort community were clustered along the southern beach in a long, sweeping arc while behind them lay other rows of cheaper houses. On the western side of the island the country club and golf course were situated, the hub of activity for the community. On the leeward side of the island, a couple of tree-lined streets contained the essential businesses, so the homes of the vacationers were shielded from the commercial area by stretches of fairways and a picturesque area of palm trees. Houses belonging to the locals were on side streets off the business district. It was such a small place that Son's BMW stayed under the carport most of the time, except when they went to the club. Occasionally it was taken out for shopping trips or to visit more distant homes on the island. For mainland trips, cars had to be ferried across, the ferry boat going to the mainland every three hours until ten o'clock at night. Baby had noticed upon her arrival small marinas near the ferry stations, both island and mainland, that had slips for boats of various sizes.

"What about emergencies?" Baby asked her brother as they ambled along the boardwalk.

"Almost everybody here has a motorboat." He gestured to the docks that spiked out from the beach with their covered boat houses. Some boats were visible and bobbing in the soft waves. "We only have the runabout, but I don't think transportation would be a problem. Once on the mainland, if you didn't take your car, cabs are readily available."

"I didn't figure all you fine folks would be dependent on the Coast Guard."

Mary Rose tinkled her polite laugh. "Coast Guard, heavens! We're a very self-sustaining community. You'll see how many talented people and useful business are here." She lifted the pants legs of her silk suit and picked her way around a dead fish that lay on the walk. "Ugh. That's the only thing I don't like about our island. So many dead things seem to wash up."

"Yes," Baby commented dryly, "Why can't they just sink decently out of sight?"

Her brother gave a snort of laughter and patted his wife's shoulder. "Luckily, most of your engagements don't center around the beach."

"Now that place there," Mary Rose pointed out to her sister-in-law, "is the home of our rather wild divorceé, Lily Lawrence. She's from Mobile and evidently got quite a nice settlement from her ex. He's a wealthy antiques dealer. She's gorgeous but a little over the top. Gets the attention of the men–and the ladies." She put her arm through her husband's. "I'm just glad my old boy is sensible."

"Yes," Baby agreed, "the Nashville Marshalls have a propensity for fidelity." She smiled to herself, thinking of her own late husband and how she still missed him. She also knew that despite Mary Rose's sometimes silly and shallow behavior, Son was really very fond of her–as she was herself. She gave her still pretty sister-in-law the once-over and said, "And besides, why would his eye wander with such a good looker at his side?"

Mary Rose gave a delighted laugh. "Oh, Baby, go on!"

"Here we are," Son said, directing the women up a stone walk to a low-slung, rather small house. It sat modestly farther back than its neighbors. A glass lanai faced the sea with tropical plants and trees sheltering the patio. As the trio approached the terrace, they saw a couple emerge from a sleek, black Jaguar that had pulled into the turnaround.

"The Kings," Mary Rose hissed. "He's a retired big gun at an investment company in Mobile. They have an enormous house at the tip of the island."

Baby watched the couple as sleek as their automobile step along the paving stones toward the house. He was a tall man with black hair in his mid to late fifties, wearing immaculate white. His wife was carefully and conservatively dressed in beige gabardine slacks and a coral colored linen shirt. Baby hadn't seen many of Son and Mary Rose's neighbors, but from the start she'd expected to be overshadowed by these women in matters of dress, but this woman looked fairly ordinary, or at least unassuming.

Not that she herself was careless. Not at all. Her bulk and height made it imperative that she spend a small fortune on flattering styles in rich fabrics and colors. Soft fabrics. She knew all too well that anything stiff or heavy would look as if she'd purchased her clothes at Nashville Tent and Awning. She preferred plain to prints but always adorned herself with interesting, she thought, and some would say ostentatious jewelry--either old family pieces or items purchased on her many travels. Tonight, she was wearing a cream-colored voile patio dress with a large coral and silver necklace and matching earrings. She knew the silver jewelry went well with her dark and silver-streaked hair, worn short as always.

The small group entered the outdoor room through a glassy expanse, opening easily to their touch. The party had not yet gotten into full swing. Looking around the lanai, Baby saw one other couple talking to the Kings. They were enthusiastically greeting them as if they'd not seen each other for some time. In all probability, they'd spent an evening together within the last week. The Kings departed into the house, leaving the other two looking inquiringly at Baby.

"Come meet Richard and Bobbi Lou Denton," Mary Rose said, leading Baby toward the couple. After nodding at the wife, a tall blonde with a svelte figure and an unfortunately large

nose, Baby shook hands in an excruciating grip with her husband. But she only had time to find

out that the Dentons were from Houston when she was assaulted by a little woman with a sparrow-like face, who was presented to her as their hostess, Mavis Penworthy. She spoke in a cultured British accent and looked very un-British in a flashy harem outfit. Maybe more parakeet than sparrow, Baby amended. The woman's hair was molded like a dessert into a much teased french twist, obviously the pride and joy of the local beautician.

A man, introduced to her as their host, Professor Penworthy, put a blue-colored drink with a little straw hat on a toothpick into her hand. As Son and Mary Rose conversed with their hosts, Baby wandered over to the buffet and helped herself to a plate of boiled shrimp and crudites.

Other guests began to file in and be introduced to her; names and faces blurred after an hour, so at an opportune moment Baby slipped away to seek refuge in a corner of the room behind a large oriental screen. She faced one of the windows that looked toward the Gulf. The sun was setting now, and the sky looked like a flawless coral gem. She suspected this was one of the reasons why people became enamored of these subtropical climes. An unreal quality permeated these moments; it was like being on the inside of a Fabergé egg. But could one really live and function at all productively or even intelligently in such an environment? She realized she seemed inordinately dissatisfied with what seemed to be nothing but frivolous activities, but that was her personality, she knew. Always she seemed to hunger for challenges, but was that any way to regard retirement? Maybe she just needed to relax.

"But I am not going to take up golf!" A high, musical female voice rose above the conversational babble in the room. "I'd rather take up mining."

"Mining?" A male voice asked incredulously.

"Absolutely," the female said. "For gold or diamonds . . ." And after exclamation of

disbelief from her audience, she added, ". . . that I can wear!"

"Now, now, Lily," a man's voice said jokingly, "you know what women are called who devote their energies to that pursuit."

Baby stepped to the edge of the screen and peeped out. She detected the owner of the musical voice at once, a beautiful woman surrounded by several of the male guests. She had long dark hair worn in deeply waved wings over her temples. Her eyes were a melting brown, her skin lustrous and delicately tinted as if only brushed by the sun's gentle touch. Baby judged her age to be mid-thirties. She wore a long black silk halter dress that revealed the shape of her breasts and accented her smashing figure. She wore no jewelry except large diamond earrings.

Baby moved closer to the little group. "I quite agree that golf wouldn't be worth it for you, if you'll pardon me for butting in," she said to the woman during a break in the bantering. "You'll ruin that lovely skin if you take up golf. I'm not sure what you'd ruin if you took up mining for gold or diamonds."

Amid general laughter from the men, the woman smiled at Baby and tilted her head politely. "I don't think we've met. I'm Lily Lawrence."

She remembered Mary Rose describing her as the wild divorceé. But before she could give her own name, the host of the evening, Frank Penworthy, stepped into the breach and not only introduced Baby to the group and they to her, but also gave a little history of the judge's distinguished career, saying, "This lady may look peaceable, but according to her brother, she has actually solves crimes for authorities in her spare time."

To exclamations of surprise and queries for more information, Baby waved her hand in a dismissive gesture and said, "I'm on vacation, folks, and I doubt that any tales from the dark side would be welcome either."

Lily Lawrence looked properly impressed.

"How wonderful to have such a useful life." She sighed and looked up at Peter Royal, the club manager, and said, "My problem has always been that I like too many things, and I never want to limit myself to a narrow existence."

That seemed like a hole in one to Baby. The woman was remarkably good at the game of one-upmanship. She'd obviously had years of practice in its subtleties. Judge Godbold sagged a bit, feeling much older and heavier than she had while behind the screen immersed in the sunset. This woman's beauty ran not to her soul, it was obvious, but was merely skin deep.

Baby smiled politely and turned away from the group. She found herself accompanied, however, by Frank Penworthy. He took her arm and steered her to the drinks table. "How about one more before the buffet is served?"

"No, thanks. I'm afraid I left my glass on that table behind the screen." He laughed and went over to retrieve it for her. "So what do you think of our little community of believers?" he asked when he returned.

Baby raised her eyebrows. "Believers in what?"

"In the good life, of course!" But his tone was facetious.

"Tell me, you're a college professor, a history professor, are you not?"

He nodded.

"Then what do you make of a place where the main occupation is pleasure seeking? Do you think the island will make a lasting contribution worth recording for history's sake?" Baby's tone also was light.

"I can tell what you think of this place. You don't play golf or bridge or–he pointed to her barely touched drink--"or consume alcohol. What will keep you occupied for the next month?"

"Don't get me wrong. I'm not a slave to work. I'm actually retired, you know, from the bench, and I like to relax as much as anyone. I suppose my idea of fun is just different. I tend to go for interesting sights on my vacations–history, different cultures." She looked around her without much sense of anticipation. The room had filled up. Some few she could actually put names to; others were blurs. They couldn't all be shallow. She'd soon learn their stories and decide who was interesting and who was not. Her host promised to be someone of interest.

Frank Penworthy was a small man, slender and rather dapper with a pewter-gray goatee and mustache. He wore a Hawaiian shirt outside his Bermuda shorts and woven leather sandals. He spoke in rounded tones as if he held his mouth perpetually in the shape of an "o."

"And so you're a crime afficionado, I hope that doesn't mean you're studying us for criminal tendencies," he commented jovially.

Baby laughed. "Hardly! I just like to observe in general. For instance, that gentleman over there" She went on in an undertone. "I believe his name is King, which seems appropriate. He gives the impression he's doing everybody a favor being here. Wouldn't you say?" King was as tall as he was powerfully built with horn rimmed glasses who stood slightly outside a small group but whose conversational interjections were pronounced loudly and with great authority. He carried his stomach before him proudly as if it alone proclaimed his prosperity.

"Oh, absolutely, Judge." He, too, lowered his voice. "Grant King, big-time Mobile businessman." He gave Baby a mischievous wink. "He's a something of a windbag."

They were moving slowly around the crowded room when a woman turned suddenly and nearly bumped into Baby. They both apologized, the woman effusively.

"This is Florence King, Judge," Penworthy said.

Baby frowned in concentration. "Florence King," she repeated. "I know that name."

The woman gave a full throated laugh. "If you're a American history buff, you might. That was the maiden name of Mrs. Warren G. Harding. Someone told me that after I married Grant, and I looked her up. I don't admire her much. Seems she sacrificed a promising career to live with that philanderer. And besides, she was a Republican. I'm a dyed in the wool Democrat, myself. Oh, dear," she caught herself. "I do believe it's very poor manners to bring up politics at dinner with friends." She pronounced the word "duhnnah."

"You're from Mobile?" Baby asked. The woman had that distinctive, cultured deep South accent that betrayed a family history of close contact with black slaves and servants, followed by exclusive girls schools run by Miss Sarah or Miss Nannie. She looked older than her husband.

"Atlanta, originally, but--" Her words were drowned out by the hostess shrieking in her upper register that the buffet had been laid on, a quaintly British way of saying dinner was served.

The rest of the evening was as Baby had anticipated. The conversations swirled into a babble that gave her a headache. Sometimes, she took a seat for a while on a kind of rocking sofa on the air conditioned lanai and chatted with various guests, most of whose names she heard once but didn't make the effort to remember. Their host and hostess were indefatigable, refilling glasses, drawing different people together. It all seemed very tiring and tiresome. She longed for a good read while stretched out comfortably on her bed. Along about 11:00, she caught Son's eye across the room, and she nodded eagerly at his thumbed gesture for leaving. Baby didn't know if they were the first to depart, but many still remained.

A breeze had come up that freshened the air delightfully. Baby gave an appreciative sniff as they walked toward the beach. "I do like the ocean, you know. I wouldn't mind living on an island myself–maybe a little bigger than this one. I was thinking more the size of England."

Her brother and his wife chuckled. Mary Rose asked Baby about her impressions of the people she'd met.

"I can't say yet. Light party chatter doesn't make for interesting observations, let alone character analysis. Maybe in some smaller groups I can get better acquainted." But she held out little hope she'd find anyone of genuine interest, with the possible exception of the professor, that she'd like to get to know better. But that was unfair since social occasions like the one tonight were not designed for intellectual discussions; also, she hadn't met everyone on the island, so she mustn't get the wrong idea from the few obvious types that had crossed her path.

Their steps pounded on the boardwalk like muffled drumbeats as they marched along in unison, their progress measured by pools of light from the regularly placed lamp posts..

"The tide's going out," Son observed. The beach lay extended like spilled batter being sopped up by the receding waves.

Baby saw what seemed to be a dark, irregular shape of maybe driftwood, now covered by waves, now left bare. She hadn't remembered seeing such a large piece of it on their walk over. She guessed the lowering waters had finally revealed it.

"Look at that," Son pointed out as they drew closer. "It looks almost like a body." He stepped off the boardwalk and moved farther onto the beach area toward the object. Baby followed him, curious herself.

Now Baby saw a head--and hair streaming out like a fan. Her scalp prickled, her steps quickened. "My word," she exclaimed, "it is a body!"

She reached the recumbent figure before her brother and bent over beside it. It was a moonless night, and the lamp near the boardwalk couldn't illuminate much so near the water, but Baby felt certain she knew who was lying in the wash. She recognized the halter dress and saw a faintly twinkling diamond in the one ear that was exposed to view. She lay on her right side with her left arm flung across her body, her right arm slightly under it. Her dark eyes seemed like eerie holes in her face. No pulse. No blood to speak of, hardly surprising with all the water surrounding her. But a gaping wound in the woman's chest exposed by her low cut dress suggested the cause of death. Baby touched the body with an experimental finger and determined it was not yet cold, which was reasonable. Baby remembered seeing her not more than an hour or so earlier.

"Who is it, Baby?" her brother asked, stooping beside her.

"I'm afraid it's Lily Lawrence." She glanced back to the boardwalk where Mary Rose stood with her face in her hands. "You'd better go back to the Penworthys' and take Mary Rose with you. Then we'll need to get some help. Call the authorities, and a doctor, if there is one on the island. I'll stay here with the body." Her well known experience in criminal matters made it seem quite natural to be giving orders to her brother, who was more accustomed to give them. But he assented to her directions.

She looked beyond her sister-in-law, who stood frozen on the path, to a dimly lighted house on the rise above them. "Isn't that where Lily Lawrence lived?" she asked Son.

"Yes, it's her house. She lives alone, of course. Doesn't even have a live-in maid." Son turned to go, then said, "I'll give Dr. DeWitt a call, and I assume Constable Ravens can be right over since he lives on the island. Watch yourself, Baby. It looks bad. Someone meant to do this to her, and we don't know where he might be."

"The killer isn't hanging around. Go on; I'll be all right. Whoever did this is long gone."

Chapter 3

The party goers had reassembled in the lanai, only now they looked like mourners at a wake--if that jovial. Constable Ravens had gone first to the crime scene where he met Dr. DeWitt, like the others a vacationing retiree, who had confirmed Baby's report. Now back at the house, the constable then gave his assessment to the group--that Lily Lawrence had without a doubt been murdered.

"A stabbing, right, Constable?" Judge Godbold's voice hung in the room like a red flag. She had been briefly interviewed by the constable when he arrived to take a look at the body. He'd sent Judge Godbold back to the Penworthys' while he questioned the doctor, who had performed a cursory examination. DeWitt remained with the body when the constable left to go to the house.

"Best as I can tell it looks like a knife wound, but I didn't see no knife," he stated and then closed his lips tightly as if he might have said too much. He was red faced and seemed jittery.

Instead of an outburst of questions, the group remained silent, a surprising reaction, Baby thought. Many of the company probably were cursing their luck they hadn't gone home early; others might be too horrified to comment. Or there might be other reasons as yet unknown to Baby for everyone to remain mute at such a shocking disclosure. She also wondered with such a number of people going in and out of rooms, and even outside the house at times during the evening how anyone could hope for an alibi. She herself had gone occasionally behind the screen, observing people on the patio, just to get away from the confusion. Obviously, no one could attest to her presence at all times.

Judge Godbold looked doubtfully at the constable, clearly out of his element. At least he'd had the good sense to call for the sheriff from the mainland to come rescue him, but getting to the island was a slow business. All he could do until then was manfully carry on as if he knew what he was doing. He couldn't be two places at once, so he sent the general to oversee the doctor, who was still with the body on the beach. But he also was reluctant to leave the guests alone as if they might run off without his supervision. After twenty agonizingly slow minutes, Constable Ravens received word on his phone that he was needed at the main pier to collect the sheriff and the coroner. Finding out Baby was a retired judge, he gave her instructions to act in his stead and see that no one left while he was gone.

As far as she was concerned, the discovery had been energizing. For the first time since she'd arrived on the island, she was tingling with excitement, all her senses alerted, her mind traveling through various logical sequences as it sorted out the evening's events along with her impressions of people around her, especially the victim. Murdered! Amazing! And why?

Then in a flurry of banging car doors, stomping boots, and baritone voices, the sheriff's contingent arrived. The constable went off with coroner to show him the body while Baby looked with interest at the new arrival. Sheriff Bumpus looked like a sheriff should--imposingly tall, broad, and pumped up with authority. His deep voice dominated over the others'. Frank Penworthy, standing beside Baby, who sat on the arm of the couch, glanced at her and smiled.

"He's been around as sheriff for at least six terms. You can see why."

"Impressive physical qualities," she nodded, wanting to get her own take on not so much his outward appearance but his capabilities as lawman. How many murders could he have handled in this county? Though the mainland was more populous than the island, it consisted of only rural areas, acreage, and hamlets. But if he was inexperienced, his demeanor didn't betray this; the constable after returning from the crime scene had turned into a wreck. His forehead positively dripped with perspiration though the lanai was almost chilly from air conditioning. He stood like the good soldier he was at near attention at his chief's elbow, his eyes darting nervously from guest to guest, as if he might spot a guilty look. Finally, Sheriff Bumpus told him to find an interview room and talk to everyone individually. An audible groan went around the room. They'd hoped for a short briefing.

"Must we wait around here all night, Sheriff?" Grant King asked gruffly. "We all live here, and you could surely talk with most of us tomorrow. We don't work at jobs while we're here, you know. Just give us a time to be available."

The sheriff looked confused for a moment. He hadn't seemed to have thought of that. He cleared his throat and rumbled, "I guess we could do that. All right, I'll talk only to the Penworthys this evening. But we'll need everyone to re-assemble tomorrow somewhere. We can't be running all over this place trying to get together with everyone. Where can you all meet, say tomorrow morning?"

People looked around at each other; the one church on the island seemed inappropriate for a murder investigation, the little café too small. Then Peter Royal spoke up, "The country club, I think. Is that all right with everyone?" He nodded at the murmur of assent and rose from his seat. "That's it, then. Tomorrow around--what, nine? In the club dining hall."

Baby was glad to see the sheriff was a reasonable man. Nothing would be lost by waiting until a time when clearer heads might prevail. Looking at those who only an hour earlier had been having the time of their lives, Baby now saw stunned or tired folks, and others muddled by drink wanting only an aspirin and a good night's sleep. People rose gratefully from their seats and began to exit the house.

Son had come in during the discussion and waited by the door until his wife and sister reached him. The latter looked at him inquiringly and he nodded, "The coroner examined the body which is being taken off to the morgue."

"Rather tricky business," Baby murmured, "with no ambulance handy." She squeezed past one of the sheriff's deputies who was trying to enter the house.

"Right," Son said. "How lucky the constable has a sports utility vehicle. So convenient for all occasions, including hauling bodies."

They were walking down the path to the beach, Son and Baby stepping briskly while Mary Rose hobbled along in her heels trying to keep up.

"I think you two are terrible, joking about poor Lily's remains. And slow down, please!"

"Was Lily seeing anyone in particular here on the island--a man, I mean?" Baby inquired of her sister-in-law.

"No, that is, she'd go for anyone, it seemed. She had a terrible reputation, if I must speak ill of the dead. She hung around the pool and the bar a lot. Most of the men who paid attention to her are married, though, so it would have been hard to have a hot affair without anyone knowing. Of course, they could always meet on the mainland somewhere. Mobile is a pretty big place."

"Sure, so you think she was a flirt in general but no home wrecker." Or, thought Baby, maybe someone suspected she might become a home wrecker and decided to eliminate the competition. "A man or woman, that's the question," she said. "Had she been just a tease and teased the wrong man, or had she been more than a tease, a dangerous woman?"

"Why do I think," her brother said, "that you'll find out the answer to that?"

"I know, I know. But how lucky I have something to keep me occupied while I'm here."

"Baby," Mary Rose cried, "you're terrible."

Chapter 4

They entered the foyer of the country club the next morning at 9:00 sharp. The entry hall opened onto the large, high ceilinged dining cum ball room where everyone was to meet. Baby noted the entire place had an ersatz Hawaiian look to it. The ceiling of a smaller room off the hall, the bar or lounge, was seemingly held up by grassy poles; wicker stools sat around the bar.

A weekday morning at the country club might have been the usual thing for many of the social set who'd been at the party the night before. A leisurely breakfast, unless one was teeing off early; checking out the latest products in the golf shop; and then perhaps a swim or a game of golf or tennis. This morning, the atmosphere was different, strained and uncomfortable. After waiting thirty minutes at their table, Baby noted people were continuing to straggle in. A single waiter stepped around quietly to take orders. Some were nibbling rolls or bagels, but most sat with a cup of coffee or juice at their elbow. The sheriff and Constable Ravens has taken up residence in Peter Royal's office, which had been further equipped with extra chairs.

"An inefficient system, not much improved from last night," Son growled. "We should have had appointments, but everyone was so damned eager to leave, including the sheriff, the interview method was left too loose."

"Inexperience, I'd say," commented his sister. "I expect this case will be fraught with numerous boo-boos, but that's to be expected. I keep wondering, myself, what the woman had done or was about to do that made her deserving of murder, according to someone."

Mary Rose widened her eyes. "I still can't believe she was murdered by . . ." she lowered her voice to a whisper, ". . . one of us. It's a ghastly and terrifying thought."

"Murder does take things out of the ordinary, doesn't it," Baby said dryly.

"I figure," Son said, "that in some way you're going to be helping the sheriff out. Will it be up front or sub rosa?"

"Well, that's up to him, isn't it. I'll have to see. Maybe I'll just go around with Mary Rose and you to various activities and engage in conversation with people. Just to get a feel for what was going on with Lily and her neighbors and friends. And then there's always the local entrepreneurs. They sometimes know more than close friends."

"Is that really true, Baby?" Mary Rose looked genuinely interested.

"Sure, because they are free to observe the seamy underside. Bills left unpaid, strange things ordered from the store that suggest certain needs or activities, too loud comments under the noise of a hair dryer."

"I shall never again enjoy my chats at the beauty parlor," Mary Rose lamented.

The other two laughed, then Baby leaned over to her brother and asked, "Who is that handsome fellow with the yellow sweater? I saw him last night, but I didn't ever meet him." The man was carrying a Bloody Mary from the bar in the other room. He was smiling and greeting others as though nothing had happened.

"Rick Jarrett. Big time lawyer from Atlanta. He's into criminal law mainly."

"He doesn't look married. He keeps patting women as he goes by."

"No, he's the resident heart-throb, I suppose. He brings girl friends out here, though, but I didn't see him last night. Did you, Mary Rose?"

"He wasn't there. The last time I talked to him was at the general store about toilet paper."

Son laughed and Baby raised her eyebrows as her sister-in-law explained, "We agreed it was a real challenge to find soft single-ply, which won't clog the septic tank. Of course, we could shop for such household items on the mainland instead of the general store, but who wants to load up their car with a large supply of toilet paper to transport on the ferry?"

"Not me," Baby agreed.

Son had waved Rick Jarrett over to their table. He sat down beside Judge Godbold and gave her an appraising look. Goodness, she thought, he looked as if he was considering her for a date. With penetrating blue eyes and a sexy half-smile, his appeal was obvious.

Son performed the introductions and Jarrett nodded politely. "I had no idea I would be in the presence of a judge this morning."

"Surely you're not intimidated."

"Not intimidated, but I shall be very, very careful."

Everyone laughed. The atmosphere at the table had been transformed from tired gloom to that of rather disquieting conviviality. They talked about the island, Atlanta, and Nashville as if their presence at the club was for no more than a social outing. But Judge Godbold was quite aware of the constant filing in of couples to the office and then their filing out the door when the sheriff and constable were finished with them. Son asked Jarrett about the rumors he was thinking about running for governor. The man raised an eyebrow and smiled, but only brushed off the inquiry with a casual, "I'm considering it, but nothing's been decided."

As the constable approached their table, Baby stood up. He seemed more confident today, wrapped securely in his familiar, limited role.

"I'll go first, if that's all right, Constable."

He nodded and escorted her to the interview room. Sheriff Bumpus was behind the desk writing in a notebook. He looked up without expression and pointed to one of two chairs opposite the desk. The constable took another chair positioned to the side of his boss.

"Now, then, er--Mrs. Godbold, my man here says you're just visiting temporarily."

She nodded and explained her position. "I'm a guest of my brother, General Marshall and his wife. My home is in Nashville, but since I'm recently retired and a widow, I travel a great deal."

He showed no inquisitiveness as to her former occupation, and she didn't volunteer information. It had been on the tip of her tongue to offer her help, explaining that although an amateur in crime-solving, she'd assisted the Nashville Police Department and the Tennessee Bureau of Investigation on more than one occasion. But she quickly decided against it, at least until she saw how much he would give away. If anything was to be done, she might better do it on the quiet. She had little doubt that left to the investigative powers of these men and, to be fair, the probable state of the county's resources, this crime would go unsolved, attributed to "a person or persons unknown." From her own experience, she knew that as long as it seemed an aberration, a single, not-to-be-repeated event, most small offices hadn't the incentive to do much about it.

"When did you last see the deceased?" the sheriff asked her. "Not counting your discovery of the body."

"I talked to her about 8:30, I suppose. Time gets away from you at those functions. I noticed her after that, but then I lost track of her. Of course, I wasn't trying to keep tabs on anyone."

"So if others sort of disappeared, you wouldn't pay any attention?"

"Not at all. People were coming and going, stepping outside on the patio, going to other rooms in the house, that sort of thing." She shrugged. "Also I didn't know anyone before the party and some I never met at all."

The sheriff placed both huge hands on the desk as if keeping it from flying away; he was through with his questions.

She spoke up quickly, "Any news about the commission of the crime? How many stab wounds, any substances found in the woman's body, water in the lungs, that sort of thing."

The sheriff gave her a sharp glance through lowered brows; they were one long wavy line like a furry black caterpillar. "The coroner's working on that right now. We'll release what information we think people need to know."

Oh, oh. He wasn't going to be as easy as she first thought. She would have to come out with something on her history if she wanted to get anywhere on solving this crime. "Sheriff, I'm a retired judge, so my interest is more than curiosity. I've assisted the Nashville Police as well as the State Bureau of Investigation--strictly as a consultant, of course. If there's anything I can do to assist you . . . ." She left her sentence hanging, hoping for an encouraging nod or word, but no.

The sheriff nodded without a smile but looked impressed as he pushed his chair back. "I'm glad to have someone around here who won't panic. You can help me at the moment by keeping everyone calm. That'll be all for now." The constable rose to retrieve the next couple, but Baby told him she'd send in her brother and his wife, so he sat back down.

"One thing more, Sheriff," she added, "did you find the murder weapon?"

He hesitated for a moment and then said, "Not at the scene."

"Of course, a good throw off the nearest dock would take it out pretty far. Still, it might be worth while to search around the ocean bottom, wouldn't it?"

"We'll attend to that. If you'll send in your brother and his wife, I'd think kindly of it."

Sheriff Bumpus's curt dismissal didn't surprise her, but she resolved to keep at him until he gave her the information she needed to know. She had hopes that desperation might drive him to seek her help, or at least not to resist her offer. Returning to the table, she found Jarrett had moved on. After Son and Mary Rose left for their interview, she helped herself to coffee from the carafe and appraised the group that remained. It had diminished to a little more than a dozen people. She saw that Grant King had obviously swung his weight around and gotten interviewed quickly. His wife had gone, but he and four other men, one of which was the sleek Kent Usher, visible through the expanse of plate glass, were riding in a golf cart toward the links. Well, they could hardly be expected to mourn, at least not for long.

She wondered about Lily Lawrence's family. Her ex lived in Mobile, she remembered, but he may not have anything to do about seeing to her remains. She wished she could have talked more to the sheriff about the dead woman's affairs. On the other hand, the resort community would be an excellent source of gossip about such things. She needed to get busy. At a corner table, the Dentons sat talking to Dr. Rory DeWitt. She caught Bobbi Lou's eye and smiled, rising to join them.

Chapter 5

The judge looked at the doctor and they greeted one another soberly, but in a friendly manner. Last night's adventure hadn't called for the usual amenities. He had skipped the festivities, he'd told Baby as they waited by the body, because of a headache. Physically, he was a rather ordinary type–regular, large features, suntanned face, thick around the middle, average height, greying coarse hair, which he smoothed down at intervals with one hand. His smile was cordial, his demeanor confident.

"We're always glad to welcome visitors," he said. "This place isn't so overcrowded we'd discourage anyone from settling here for half a year at least."

Baby laughed but gave a negative shake to her head. "I can't see myself pulling up stakes in Nashville, even for six months. I am peripatetic, you might say, and frequently take jaunts here and there. I may return occasionally, if my brother and Mary Rose invite me." She looked around the table, and said, "I'm learning where the people I've met are from originally–I recall that you folks," she nodded at the Dentons, "are from Houston. Are you a Texan also?" she inquired of the doctor.

"No. I hail from the East, Washington, D.C., to be exact. I worked at an association that researches and analyzes long-term results of treatments for various cancers. One of my colleagues was the husband of Esther Levine, which is how I came to settle here for my vacation abode." He again smoothed the unruly hair, which sprang up under his hand.

"Lily was a fellow Texan," Bobbi Lou contributed. "Wasn't she from somewhere outside Dallas?" she asked her husband.

"I think from Richardson. But she lived in Mobile while she was married."

"Was she romantically involved," Judge Godbold asked Bobbi Lou, "with anyone special on the island?"

The Dentons glanced at one another and smiled. "Anyone, oh, yes. Special, no," Bobbi Lou answered. "Sorry, that sounds catty, but she did attract men like moths to a flame. Actually, her name had been linked with Peter Royal, the manager here, and Rick Jarrett, of course." Her long nose seemed to turn down a notch along with her voice.

"I met him," Baby said and then added, "but I must say he didn't seem very cut up over her death."

"They weren't really a twosome," Bobbi Lou said rather defensively. "Just dated now and then. As far as other men in her life, there were a few nasty rumors about married men."

"Now, Bobbi Lou," her husband admonished.

"Well, there were. I won't mention any names."

"It looks like she might have paid for it rather severely," the doctor noted.

"You think the death was related to her love life, then?" Baby asked.

"We wouldn't know that, of course," Dr. DeWitt continued, "but it's not unlikely." He sipped at his coffee while the Dentons made noises of agreement.

"It was lucky you were available last night," Baby commented to DeWitt. "You must have had some knowledge of practical medicine in order to confirm the death. Right?"

"Not post mortems; that was new for me," he replied with a wry smile. He then looked at his watch. "It's now 10:30 and still no interview." Just then, Son and Mary Rose approached, followed by Constable Ravens. The official motioned to the doctor.

"I spoke too soon." He smiled at Baby. "Nice to meet you. I'm sure we'll be seeing more of each other. No one gets much privacy around here."

"The doctor seems quite charming," Baby remarked to her brother and his wife as they left the club to go to the car. "Not married, I gather. Is he widowed or divorced, or is he one of those confirmed bachelors?"

"Evidently a confirmed bachelor, " Mary Rose answered. "At least he's never referred to a missus left behind. Would you like us to fix you up?" For once, Mary Rose had gotten the jump on her sister-in-law.

Judge Godbold looked startled. "Pshaw. I've got a few years on him for one thing, and I'm not out to replace Dan Godbold."

Baby wedged herself into the back seat. Cars, no matter what the model, seemed to be getting smaller, and she knew it wasn't only that she was getting bigger. "I'm at such a disadvantage being a stranger here. I'm bursting to know who will be taking care of the funeral arrangements. Do you know if Lily had any family?"

"A sister in Dallas. And I heard she'd already been contacted."

"I expect you'll be notified as to a service, whether one will be here or elsewhere. Do you have a newsletter or do you just use the proverbial grapevine?"

"We do have a newsletter for the resort community, and I suppose any information would be in that. Marilyn Usher is the editor. It's published, though, only once a month, so it'll be another two weeks before it comes out. But most everyone has a computer and we e-mail back and forth among those of us who are in the social set, you might say." She turned her head toward her sister-in-law. "I don't understand why you'd want to get involved, Baby. You puzzle me."

"I don't like murder," she said grimly, "or murderers getting away with it."

"You could always pay a daily visit to the sheriff's office to keep abreast of the investigation," her brother jokingly said. "I'd be glad to drive you to the ferry."

"Thanks. I'll find a way to dig out the facts. Got anything planned for this weekend?"

"Yes," Mary Rose said, "we have a couples bridge game Sunday night." She gasped. "How perfect! Lily was in the group. You could take her place! She was usually partnered with Peter Royal. It's at the King's house, so I don't know which extra man will be there."

"Doesn't it seem rather callous to be playing over Lily's dead body?" Son said.

"I'd love to." Baby settled back in her seat. "Who else might be attending?"

"Let's see, there's the Dentons, the Penworthys," Mary Rose enumerated on one hand, "us, of course. You met the Kings at the party, I believe, and as I said, Peter Royal, probably, Rory DeWitt, and--oh, Esther Levine. She wasn't at the party. Evidently, she had something going on last night in Mobile. Lucky her! She missed it all, including the inquisition."

"Three tables," said Baby. "A nice little group of Lily's friends, except for Rick Jarrett. Doesn't he play bridge?"

"No. He says he likes his stakes higher and the action more dangerous," Son commented. "His activities range from sailing to handball to poker."

"That's informative," Baby observed. She looked out the window of the car. Where are we? It looks quite different than the drive to your house or the country club."

"This is our town," her brother laughed. "A poor thing but our own. I thought you might like to meet some local business people. Where shall we go first–the general store, owned by Constable Ray Ravens, whom you've met, of course, and his wife Mayrene; a second rate café called The Coffee Cup; the Quik Stop gas station and market; or Antiques Galore?"

"Antiques of Yore," his wife interjected." And you didn't mention Jean's Hair House."

"Otherwise known as Jean's Whore House," the general said with a laugh.

"Son! That's terrible," his wife cried.

"A terrible pun," his sister agreed. "I think I'd like to visit the antiques place first."

"Good, and the car could use some gas, so afterward we'll stop in at the Quik Stop and you can meet Chip Stanley."

"He's cute," Mary Rose chirped. "And one of Lily's admirers, it's rumored."

Her husband made a face in the rear-view mirror to his sister, and said, "She liked to go slumming."

"Oh, Son," exclaimed his wife. "We don't know that for sure."

Within minutes, they were pulling in front of a low cottage with multi-pane windows and a wood shingle roof. A discreet sign over the door said, "Antiques of Yore."

"Not much parking," Baby observed.

"Not much business," her brother said.

"How do they survive?"

"I think they sell to decorators and do a lot of work on the mainland."

"They also take commissions, look for special items that people request," said Mary Rose.

Stepping inside the small shop to the tinkle of a bell over the door, Judge Godbold was aware of an overcrowded room filled with old, well polished furniture. Objects d'art were clustered on every horizontal surface as if it had rained porcelain and cloisonne and silver. She felt like a visitor in the drawing room of an English gentlewoman reduced to a small place.

Almost immediately, they were greeted by a slender man in his forties, looking soignè in a loose linen shirt worn outside his trousers and fine leather sandals. He sported a large fair mustache that helped make up for the exposure of scalp up top.

"Greetings!" he cried enthusiastically. "How are you folks this fine morning?"

"Oh, Lonnie," Mary Rose said in a low voice, "haven't you heard about poor Lily?"

"No, what?" As Mary Rose related the story, his expression changed to one of horror, and he stood transfixed, biting the knuckle of his index finger. "I can't believe it," he kept repeating. Mary Rose then introduced him to her sister-in-law. His name was Lonnie Fitzgerald.

"You knew her well?" Baby asked, casually hefting a bronze Shiva speculatively.

"She came here quite a bit. Daniel will be devastated. He adored her."

Baby raised an eyebrow at her brother who explained that Daniel Martin was part owner of the shop and did the buying trips. According to Lonnie, he happened to be attending an estate sale on the mainland.

"He's the real expert," Lonnie said, "while I run the business end."

Judge Godbold had heard enough, and after taking a cursory turn around the room, examining objects, checking a few prices, she inquired if everyone was ready to go. They parted with assurances they'd be back next week to see what Daniel might have brought back from the estate sale.

"Next stop the Quik Stop, " Son announced, swinging the Buick onto the main road. "We don't have to travel far to see all there is to see."

"What do you know about this Chip Stanley?" his sister asked him.

"He grew up on this island. His parents are dead, however."

"Is he the owner of the gas station?"

"Oh, yes, as he'll be quick to point out. He complains about his never having time for a love life, but he's closed more than he's open. He's got some part-time help, though, from Constable Ravens's daughter, Dody."

Chapter 6

But Baby was not destined to meet Chip Stanley that day. They pulled in next to the front pump where Son and Baby got out, leaving Mary Rose to wait inside the car. While Son pumped gas, Baby looked around the place. They were the only customers. She observed that the little market and station had a faint look of disintegration, on the edge of run down with the eaves needing paint, the pavement showing cracks, old yellowing advertising signs in the window, and other tell-tale signs of neglect. Double doors leading to a garage was at one end of the store.

Dody Ravens was on duty and said she didn't know when Chip would be back.

"He's on the mainland doing something," she drawled, pushing back a long strand of dishwater blonde hair. Although she might have been considered pretty and wore lip gloss and heavy eye shadow, instead of looking bright and attractive, she had a sullen, unpleasant look about her. Her t-shirt was skin tight and showed full breasts and a bit of her midriff.

"I need to get my chocolate fix," said Son in a friendly fashion, placing a handful of candy bars on the counter to check out. Dody rang them up with his gas bill and put them in a sack without saying a word. Son motioned to Baby that they needed to leave, but she stayed by the counter.

"This is Dody Ravens," Son said, relenting. "My sister, Judge Godbold."

"Have you graduated from high school, Dody?" she asked the girl.

"Yes, ma'am. In May. I'm trying to decide what to do with my life."

"Ahh. . ." Baby nodded. "But you enjoy working here?"

"Sorta." Dody gave her a strange, secretive look. "I like some things about it."

She's probably sleeping with the guy, Baby surmised. "We'll be seeing you around then. Bye-bye."

The girl nodded.

"Somehow," Baby remarked back in the car, "I don't need to meet Chip. I think I know all about him."

"Rushing to judgement?" Son clucked his tongue.

"No, no. Using inferential means to determine a type. I'm sure I'll eventually find out more details, but I bet nothing will change my impression of his character based on his absentee management, his keeping a young woman as his slave, and his lack of ambition."

"I can't imagine how you saw all that so quickly," Mary Rose exclaimed. "But his name has been linked with Lily's, believe it or not." Then she shuddered. "I think we've had plenty of excitement in the last twelve hours. Can't we get off this business of murder and suspects for a while? Let's go home and eat some lunch. I'd like to take a nap too."

Baby chuckled and agreed. "I want to make some notes about the events, so a quiet afternoon suits me."

Yet the quiet time didn't suit altogether. She finished her notes, which detailed the happenings beginning with the party the night before, in ten minutes. Both her hosts had disappeared and she had taken her notebook to the patio. She sat staring at the sea. She realized the pace around here was going to kill her. She longed for activity, immersion in something that mattered, and she would obviously be hampered, if not by her brother and his wife, then by the local authorities, who had no thought to include her in their investigations. She suddenly saw herself as a old meddling fool, but that didn't make her feel any different. She sighed. It wasn't necessarily physical action that she longed for. Rather, an nice assortment of pieces to solve the puzzle. But she didn't have nearly enough pieces and no way to get more.

So what exactly did she have? A victim known for her attraction to men; a body with wounds from a sharp instrument; a type of crime that wasn't usually associated with a woman; one that had to be premeditated; a tight-knit community of sophisticates with a few fringe types who knew Lily. That was about it. She sighed again. The beginnings of a poem stirred, and she played around with the lines in her head, scribbling them onto the paper..

The limpid breeze plays over a savage scene

A landscape retreating into shallow things

Memories tarnish the glitter of bright talk

With blood seeping into sand . . .

And she moves through it all

Unnoticed, relentless

Uncovering layers dark and green

She tossed the notebook to the ground. Not very good. Her poetry always seemed to miss. Even the writers workshop she attended last year hadn't really helped. But then she'd spent most of her time solving a double murder. Maybe she didn't have the temperament to be a real poet. Or most likely she hadn't been blessed with talent in that direction. She sighed again.

As they were finishing their dinner of snapper that Mary Rose had defrosted and baked in a garlic butter sauce, the phone rang. Son called Baby to the phone, holding his hand over the mouthpiece. "It's the sheriff," he hissed. "He wants to talk to you."

"Yes, Sheriff. I see. . . . Yes, I can understand why you wouldn't want to do that. . . . Certainly. I'll be ready." She hung up. "How interesting! The sheriff is coming to pick me up tomorrow afternoon. He called the police chief in Nashville about me and decided on his recommendation to bring me in as a consultant. I think he's depressed because he doesn't know where to start. Also, he said he was resisting calling in the state police. He doesn't like them messing around with his authority." She laughed. "I guess he thinks I'm less of a threat, but I just might be able to help."

"Aren't you the lucky one," Son laughed. "We won't have to entertain you after all."

"I still want to come to the bridge game."

Chapter 7

Sheriff Bumpus came to the door himself to call for the judge. He gave her a friendly smile as he sucked in his belly and adjusted his holster. As they approached the car, Constable Ravens jumped out and opened both front and back doors for them. Judge Godbold settled herself in the back seat, feeling somewhat awkward because of the wire cage that separated her from the officers in front. She'd ridden in a patrol car before but only in the front seat.

"This isn't the first time I've felt the effect of being isolated from society," she called out. "I once spent the night in jail as part of a fund raising effort by the police department. My friends were supposed to bail me out, but they all got together and decided to let me tough it out. I guess they thought it would be a good experience for me to get some of what I regularly gave. At least, that's what they told me. Probably, they took their naps after dinner and forgot all about me."

She was talking too much, she guessed, for no one in the front seat commented or even chuckled politely. Then as she watched in embarrassment, the sheriff proceeded to roll down the glass in front of the wire grill.

"Sorry, I missed what you said. We're going over to my office on the island, which is gonna have to be the country club. The manager, Mr. Royal, kindly let me use his office for the time being. As you might have guessed, the constable works out of his home."

"Understandable in such a small place. I think it's lucky they have a police force at all."

The conversation went along other conventional lines until they arrived at the makeshift Sheriff's Office. Baby again took the seat in front of the desk while Ravens resumed his support position at the side of the sheriff. Sheriff Bumpus rummaged among papers until he found what he was looking for and handed it to Baby.

"Ah, the coroner's report." She read rapidly about the state of the body revealed by the autopsy. "No sign of strangulation." She nodded. "Ahhh. I figured there were very few knife wounds just from what I could see by moonlight. But only one!" She looked up, frowning. "Either a lucky blow or great expertise."

"Right. Hard to say. Time of death points to no more than an hour to thirty minutes before you folks stumbled on the body. The weapon could have been tossed into the ocean, maybe from a dock." He shifted in his seat as if he was uncomfortable, but the chair was a handsome leather one rather heavily padded. "I wanted your opinion of the group at the--" he studied his notes for a minute, "--the Penworthys' place. You had pretty close contact with most of them, I suppose."

"Not really. It was a casual social affair. You understand that people were milling around, talking to whomever happened to be by their elbow. I didn't even know the names of some of those I chatted with. But," she stated, holding up one finger, "if you want to know my impression of the little community, I see them as a bunch of tropical fish, swimming importantly around as if the whole ocean cared; when in fact they're going around and around in a little tank."

He seemed to like her analogy, for while Constable Ravens snorted a laugh, Bumpus looked expectantly at her.

"In my view," she continued, "we'll have to do a couple of things to get to the bottom of this killing. First, it would be wise to check the backgrounds and residence history of those at the party who knew Lily well, those in her social circle. You have the resources to do that, Sheriff?"

"I have a girl that officially is a dispatcher, but we don't have that much business, so she tends to other matters as needed. I'll put her to work on the computer as well as calling the appropriate official for information."

"Good. Then we–I–need to get better acquainted with these people. I plan to meet with a group Sunday night for an evening of bridge. I can find out quite a bit, partly from the conversation, which may contain helpful gossip–I've already gotten an earful–and partly from the way they play the game."

"Really? You really think that will help?" Bumpus didn't look skeptical but, rather, impressed.

Judge Godbold nodded. "This was a premeditated murder by someone completely ruthless. You can tell a lot about a person from their attitude about games. Oh, I won't say I can spot a murderer, but I can see clearly who is lazy, who is driven, who likes to be top of the heap, who's a cheater–well, you get the picture. As I learn something about their characters and the relationship each one had with the murdered woman, I might be able to put together a logical scenario. With your necessary technical support, of course."

"Anything I can do, you let me know. You can use this office anytime. Give her your key, Ravens," he ordered his lieutenant, who handed it over to the judge with a somewhat disappointed look on his face.

"Thanks, Sheriff. And I'll need your number and the constable's so I can reach you at a moment's notice."

After writing his and Ravens' home phone numbers on the business card, he gave it to her, saying, "I've got a fast boat at my disposal, too. I can be here–oh, say, in about twenty minutes from the office or thirty from home."

"Another thing, Sheriff. Is Lily's sister here?"

"Yes, she arrived about noon and is at her sister's house, hoping to clear things out, as I understand it. She'll take the remains back to Dallas sometime next week, she hopes."

"Good. That is, good she's arrived here so promptly. I'd like to talk to her, too. She can maybe give me some information that might shed light on who Lily Lawrence really was."

"You think something in her past–?"

"I don't know, of course. Her local associations may be all we need. But I don't want to leave any stone unturned, if possible."

"Have at it, then. Also, Judge, we should keep in touch."

They settled on each calling the other to compare results, and then Sheriff Bumpus stood up and declared he was taking her home so she could "enjoy her vacation."

"But I am enjoying it--now," she protested. "This will be a treat for me." She noticed with amusement that Constable Ravens looked a little shocked at her words.

On Sunday, the weather was holding to a steady infusion of sunshine and mild breezes. The Marshalls and Baby had breakfast on the patio, and after a couple of hours of cleaning up the kitchen and themselves, they set off for a boat ride. Baby was adorned with sunglasses on cords, a drooping wide-brimmed hat fastened down with a bandana, a life preserver, waterproof watch, and boat shoes. She stepped gingerly into the small boat, which immediately tilted precariously, causing her to land with an unceremonious bump on the in-board motor cover. She slid over onto a padded bench to make room for Mary Rose, who, taking Son's hand, alighted gracefully and took her seat next to the pilot's seat in front.

"Nice boat, Son," Baby called, not sure if it was anything special or not. But she realized men were always proud of their mechanical toys. He nodded back to her, smiling, and revved up the engine. She stiffened and tightened her grip on the bars along the bulkhead. They took off at an alarming rate of speed, hitting the wake from another passing motorboat with crashing thumps, the spray drenching her new shorts outfit. Son was calling out something to her and waving his hand at some buildings along the shore. Then in a matter of ten minutes they were at one end of the island, looking at a point of land where a dock and boat house, a long, manicured lawn, and a wrap-around house on the hill made for an impressive view. Someone important lived there as Son was trying to indicate, but she wouldn't find out until after the ride was over.

Son wasn't satisfied showing her the perimeter of the island, however. He took off for the mainland, passing the slow-moving ferry that presumably carted the islanders to and from church. The houses along the shore were mostly elaborate structures, indicating this entire enclave, both on the island and nearby, was premier property. Son throttled down to a crawl so conversation could take place without shouting.

"There seems to be quite a contingent of brave souls who don't worry about hurricanes," she observed.

"Absolutely," Son agreed. "Coastal living has its perils, but times in between make it worthwhile. Houses along the coastline run for miles in each direction."

For the sake of her investigation, she was suddenly grateful that the murder had occurred on the island. At least, the suspects, numerous though they seemed at this point, were most likely limited to the islanders.

A large Boston Whaler sailed past them with a man at the helm. Baby saw the unmistakable tanned, chisled features of Rick Jarrett as he turned toward them and waved.

Son waved back and said,. "He's a great sailor and competitor. I understand he's participated in the Americas Cup. He must be going to the mainland himself. Usually he's in deep water."

"He appears to be well equipped," Baby commented. Mary Rose and Son laughed at her remark, and she said apologetically, "Sorry," for her double entendre.

After patrolling the coast for what seemed an interminable time, Son guided the boat near a marina to a pier jutting out from the mainland that belonged to a seaside restaurant appropriately called "Gulfview."

Thank heavens! Baby thought, lunch time. She looked forward to a long meal, followed by a short rest, and concluded by, she hoped, a rewarding evening of bridge. The big house on the hill belonged, she discovered, to the pompous ass Grant King, who seemed to require lording it over everyone and everything, including the sea.

Chapter 8

They left the house twenty minutes early for the bridge party so Mary Rose could drop off a salad at Lily's home for her sister, who would undoubtedly be there for a few days. Baby walked to the front door with her sister-in-law and smiled at the thin, attractive woman dressed in jeans and a T-shirt who opened the door to them. Although she wore no makeup and had finer features than Lily, there was no doubt she was Lily's sister. From the Dallas area, Baby remembered. Mary Rose introduced herself and Baby and expressed sympathy.

"Thanks," she said, extending her hand to each in turn. "I'm Dolores Rafferty. This is all so unbelievable, I'm still in shock, I think." But she made no offer to invite them in.

So, thought Judge Godbold, if they were to be kept at arm's length, she'd have to be more aggressive. "We were the ones," she said, "who discovered Lily's body. It was such an astonishing thing and, of course, so very sad for this quiet, peaceful place."

"Yes, Lily loved living on the island. We didn't see each other all that often, but we talked on the phone about once a month and I know she always seemed to be on the go."

Baby persisted. "Was there anyone, anything in her life that might have accounted for such a violent act to take place? Did she appear frightened or disturbed lately?"

She seemed to consider this, but declared no, Lily seemed much as she always was, "A little giddy from a hectic social life. I always thought the scenery was wasted on her."

Mary Rose grew restless and acted embarrassed by the interchange, turning sideways to leave, so Baby again expressed their sympathy and asked if she might come over to help with the clearing up tomorrow. "I'm just visiting my brother and his wife with time on my hands. I think I'm a pretty good packer and an even better thrower-outer."

"I've turned down quite a few offers from Lily's friends, but a judge," she smiled, "well, I can hardly turn you down. Yes, I think that would be helpful. Thank you."

Judge Godbold felt pleased with the contact, but she was taken out of her reverie about how to grill the sister further by their arrival at the Kings' place. The approach to the mansion on the hill first seen from Son's boat was by a long, curving drive lined with palm trees. To one side of the sprawling house Baby saw tennis courts, and on the other side, a three-stall garage with living quarters above. The Marshalls and Baby were not the first to arrive; three other cars were hunched together in the front turnaround, but there was plenty of room for an additional six cars, at least.

A uniformed maid, an elderly dark-skinned Mexican woman with tired eyes and a toothy smile, nodded and showed them in through the oversized door and, extending her arm, directed them to the room at the end of the hall. The house had higher ceilings than Baby had imagined from outside. Probably a matter of perspective.

A clatter of conversation greeted them as they stepped into the room, the den, she supposed, with its unnecessary fireplace, an entertainment center, and a bar with stools and multitudes of different shaped glasses on shelves. Comfortable seating had been pushed to the perimeter to make room for the three card tables where some of the other guests were sitting. Florence King looked up from placing little dishes of snack foods on the corners of the tables, and greeted them. Their host, a genial man today, was taking orders for drinks at the bar and waved them over.

Baby edged her way past bar stools and joined the little cluster. She decided on an orange blossom. Easy to nurse the tall gin and orange juice for quite a while, and she liked to think she was getting her vitamins as she was pickling her liver. Just then, Dr. DeWitt arrived in a hail of greetings, and hard on his heels, an older woman unknown to Baby.

Judge Godbold took her glass to a table where the Penworthys sat quietly, choosing them over a more raucous table of the Dentons and Peter Royal, who were hooting with laughter. Frank and Mavis greeted her warmly, Frank even half rising in a courtly, out-of-date manner as she took her seat. "Glad to see you, Judge," he said.

His wife smiled her reserved, British smile and inquired, "Are you as formidable a bridge player as you are a criminal investigator?"

For a moment Baby was speechless. How could any of these people have known--but then she remembered the island grapevine and her sister-in-law's perpetual phone calls, her love of gossip, her innocent "spilling the beans" that so characterized her. Baby laughed and helped herself to a handful of pretzels. "I'm only just competent at bridge. I don't know if I can judge my sleuthing abilities. Sometimes, though, I'm very lucky at both."

"I don't know if I can concentrate," their hostess said, still standing, her shoulders slightly hunched. "The thought of maybe a madman on the island, terrifies me."

"It's probably best not to go out at night alone," Baby advised, "until this is cleared up."

Mavis tapped the cards, looking around impatiently at the group at the bar while at the same time motioning Dr. DeWitt over to their table. "Can we start drawing for partners?" she asked him.

He shrugged and called out, "Come on, everybody, Mavis is ready to get the show on the road. Men draw first." He took a card from the pack displayed in a broad semi-circle and held it.

Baby thought DeWitt's arrangement for men first rather unchivalrous, but he seemed the impatient type. Frank also drew a card, followed by Peter Royal, who drew two, handing one to Richard Denton, still seated at the other table. Grant King, a drink in hand, took a single card on the end of the stack and Son drew one from the middle.

"Now the girls," said Mavis, handing another deck to her husband, who shuffled the cards and laid them in a matching semi-circle. One by one the "girls," all near or over the age of fifty, drew their cards. Baby whispered to Son that she hadn't met the elderly lady yet. She was dressed extravagantly in a flowing caftan and had an ageless beauty, due probably to a fine set of facial bones, despite a tanned, leathery skin. Her still thick red-gold hair was worn in becoming elf locks around her face.

"Esther, I'd like you to meet my sister, whom we all call Baby; this is Esther Levine."

"Oh, you're Baby I've heard so much about," she said in a strong New York accent. She didn't gush, however, but looked Baby straight in the eye and shook her hand firmly.

But the group had no time for pleasantries. They were busily matching up partners, high cards first. Baby found herself partnered with Peter Royal. He was an agreeable man in his early forties, deliberate and tactful, as one might expect from a country club manager. Although not classically handsome, his dark, dramatic coloring and aquiline nose gave him a European look, possibly French.

Playing against them were Dr. DeWitt and Esther Levine. The doctor's play bore out Baby's first estimation of impatience--ironic dispatch, she amended. He confided to Baby that he didn't really care for the game, but he played to be sociable.

Judge Godbold heard Mary Rose's partner, Grant King, at the next table repeating with barely disguised exasperation, "What do you say, partner?" or "You sure about that bid?" She knew from past experience that her sister-in-law played bridge as she went through life, with cheerful, absentminded inexactitude.

But Esther Levine was the real champ at Baby's table, maybe the entire party. She had a phenomenal memory, which she employed with ease, knowing who had discarded what and what cards remained in whatever suit. She finessed Baby's king of hearts beautifully to win her four hearts bid. Add to that, her conversation was as sparkling as the diamonds on her fingers with only the occasional pause for reflection on a play.

"Are you a year-round resident?" Baby asked her while Peter dealt the second hand.

"Almost. During the summer, I go to Whitefish in Montana to stay with my sister and her husband on the side of a mountain. It's a lovely place where we fish and golf and fend off bears."

"Really? Bears, you say?" Fending off bears didn't sound too lovely.

"The bears are rather tame, of course. One day, my sister turned around and found one in the pantry. She'd left the back door slightly open and he'd just walked in and was helping himself from a dish of fruit. Not a grizzly, of course."

Baby liked her no-nonsense way of talking and resolved to get to know Esther Levine better. As a woman on the island with no seeming grudges to bear Lily, she might, with her cool style, be a good source of more reliable information than Mary Rose or even Son, who tended to ignore what he considered trivial.

Royal apparently was another candidate for one of Lily's lovers, or so Mary Rose suggested. He was unmarried, though the marital state apparently didn't figure in Lily's considerations, and he would have had many opportunities to have assignations if there were a need for secrecy. At least he was adept as a bridge player, clear-headed but polite at some of her gaffs. He hopped up while he was dummy and refreshed everyone's drinks without seeming like a waiter.

For a short time, the bridge games went on without conversation, the play punctuated only by the regular slap of cards and the occasional exclamation. It reminded Baby of a quiet machine. But then Bobbi Lou made some remark about it being different without Lily's presence. Murmured agreement followed, the machine halting, then beginning again.

Judge Godbold felt emboldened to ask, "I wonder if anyone has seen Lily's sister? We stopped by on the way over, and she accepted Mary Rose's offering of a salad, but she wasn't in the mood to talk. I'm sure her sister's violent death is a painful subject, of course." She gave Grant King a glance to see if the expression on his face changed, but even though he was dummy, he continued to follow the play with interest.

Several women's voices responded at once with Bobbi Lou's overriding the others. "I called to see if I could help out, but she refused. I thought more relatives might be showing up, so I didn't go over."

"I took over a plate of cold cuts," offered Esther, rising to change tables. She and DeWitt had won the round. "She didn't invite me in, which seemed unfriendly."

"Maybe she's eager to get things straightened out and get the hell out," said Son. He sat down opposite Esther while Mary Rose and Grant King joined Baby and Peter Royal at their table.

"I really don't like to think about it," said Mary Rose, shivering. "Someone around here killed someone. How can we go on so normally?" Her voice rose shrilly and the room quieted in embarrassment.

"Well," soothed Baby, "it's still possible that someone came from the mainland on a boat. I noticed a marina opposite the ferry station." She didn't think it likely, given the timing of the murder, but at this point she believed it prudent not to speculate aloud.

Watching Grant King play the game with such energy and skill so entranced Baby she made a couple of foolish moves. His barely controlled furious reaction was itself interesting to behold. She was amazed that he would deign to play in a club that was composed of mostly sociable types, for he bore all the earmarks of one who has had many lessons and remembered all the fine points.

"Has this bridge group been playing together long?" she asked generally.

Mary Rose piped up, dummy to Peter's play. "We were asked to join last year after the Ushers dropped out."

"I think it's been around for years with different folks coming and going," said King. "Florence and I joined about three years ago, I guess. Didn't you already belong, Peter?"

Peter nodded, absorbed in his play. "I think I was asked soon after I came here, which will be four years next December."

So the imperious and impatient Grant King could tolerate incompetency better than she might have imagined. Or did he drive the insecure away? Mary Rose hadn't seemed particularly intimidated as his partner, but admittedly it took quite a bit to mar her cheerfulness. But Judge Godbold and King had a spate of bad hands. No amount of intelligent play could salvage the round and as the losers they had to remain at the table.

"I seem to be the donkey's tail of the group," Baby said pleasantly to King. "Do you give a booby prize?"

"As a matter of fact we do, but we call it a consolation prize. Only the first place person is awarded the winner's prize."

After a dessert of cheese cake topped with strawberries and accompanied by decaffeinated coffee, the play resumed, Baby now partnered with Richard Denton. He had close-cropped dark hair and blue eyes that took in everything. His looks suggested an English or Irish ancestry. His file folder mind, so helpful to astute businessmen, was quickly in evidence. He and Esther would have been a formidable team, but unfortunately for him, he'd been lined up with first his wife, too languid to be an alert player and then poor Florence King, distracted by her hostess duties. He seemed a bit rankled to be at a table of losers.

"It might not hurt," he commented when Mavis Penworthy had to ask about a bidding rule, "if we hired someone to give refresher lessons at the club. There've been some changes in the rules the last few years."

Baby could tell that the less-than-competent card playing of some of these people annoyed Denton. And perhaps significantly, Denton's style was to find solutions to problems, also an asset to an oil man where problems unless quickly solved could be costly or devastating.

The evening wore on, and the only time Lily's name was mentioned again was when Mavis asked if anyone would be flying to the Dallas area for Lily's burial; she presumed her sister would arrange for some sort of service there, her home town. For a long moment no one spoke; then it seemed that everyone started making excuses at once.

"--can't get away--

"---didn't know her that well--"

"---hate funerals--"

Then Hugh Penworthy spoke up loudly enough to capture the group's attention. "Since I'm the lucky president of the club, I figure I should go and represent us all, if her sister doesn't have a service on the island first."

"Good show!"

"I think that's nice."

"I'm glad you thought of that."

Baby, too, hoped there'd be a service here which would give her yet another opportunity to observe the locals. Tomorrow she was to meet with Lily's sister and find out her plans.

Chapter 9

Mary Rose begged to go with Judge Godbold to Lily's house on Monday morning.

"No, dear. I don't think that would be fair, do you? The Rafferty woman said she had resolutely refused all offers of help from her sister's friends. She made an exception for me, if you recall, probably because I was not acquainted with her sister." And she also rightly figured, the judge thought, that I was the only one who wouldn't gossip.

"I suppose you're right." Mary Rose took a full five seconds to swallow her disappointment. "I've got my exercise class, anyhow." She thought a moment. "Do you want me to drop you off on my way, Baby?"

"No, thanks. I need the exercise myself, and the morning is beautiful. I'll wear cool clothes and walk along the beach."

She noticed on her walk to Lily's house, not that far from Son's, that boats were out, some moving crisply through the waves, others bobbing to and fro, tethered by fishing lines. She understood the appeal of the place, at least in its simpler aspects.

Dolores Rafferty must have been watching from the window, for before the judge could reach the door, it swung open.

"I'm glad you've come." She was smiling, not broadly, but in a pensive and welcoming way. "I hadn't realized how lonely and, frankly, scary it could be, staying by myself in this house."

"You poor thing. We should have thought and invited you to stay with us. My brother and his wife are very hospitable. Tonight, then?"

"Thanks, but I'm also not up to much socializing. I know you're visiting your brother and his wife, but you couldn't by any chance--?" Her look spoke clearly to the judge.

"Of course I could stay with you. I would have suggested it, but I didn't want to intrude."

They stood in the middle of the living room. Not a particularly large space, but decorated with a certain panache that indicated a professional hand and plenty of money. The room was basically white and cream with touches of gold. Lily's dark beauty would have been set off wonderfully well. Art work from contemporary artists hung on every wall, brightening the room with bleats of color.

"A rather dramatic room, like your sister."

Dolores nodded. "So very much like her."

"What will you do with all this?"

She shrugged. "I'm having the movers in later on to pack, and they'll take most everything to a storage unit in Dallas. Then I guess I'll have a sale of whatever I can't use." She gestured. "This is not really my style. I was always the plain, practical sister, working at the same job for years. Boring, I'm afraid, compared to Lily."

"What do you do?"

"I'm a scientist, a forensic chemist, ironically, in view of this horrible crime. I'm employed by Baylor University for research, but I also do work for various law enforcement agencies."

"Now that's what I call fascinating!"

"Really? You've heard of such a profession?"

Judge Godbold explained as best she could her interest in crime and even her new association with the local sheriff. This woman could be a help, no need for subterfuge.

"No one except my family knows I'm involved in the investigation, so I'd appreciate your not mentioning it."

"You can count on me. I'd love to see a forensic report. Did they stake out the crime scene and take samples for possible fiber or other evidence?"

"Not really," the judge said dryly. "We were lucky to get a professional autopsy, considering how ill equipped the county is forensically. But a visit to the coroner might be useful. He may have done fingernail scrapings. Have you gotten her clothes?"

"No, the coroner or the police may still have those."

They ambled toward the back of the house and ended up in a spacious, antiseptic kitchen. It was virtually all white and a red tile floor the color of dried blood, one of the judge's favorite shades. Copper pots hung from hooks above a cook island, and a glass and wrought iron table sat in a bay overlooking a weedy garden. Lily obviously concentrated her efforts on the inside.

"How about a cup of coffee first?" Dolores asked.

The judge agreed and sat down. "I have a feeling we might be able to work well together in clearing things up."

Dolores laughed. "I have a feeling you mean more than Lily's belongings."

Within a few hours, they had sorted out personal items–some for Dolores to take with her, other things destined for the village thrift shop.

"Let's have a sandwich before we take these things to town, " Dolores suggested. "I picked up a can of tuna and other things at the Quik Stop market."

During the meal, the judge suggested, if they were through with the house, that they take the afternoon ferry to the Sheriff's Office. "You'll need more information to get up to speed on this, and he might also get us an interview with the coroner."

The other woman nodded eagerly. "You can't imagine how comforting it is to think I might actually help find my sister's killer. Have you been able to put together a list of possible suspects?"

"Not really. I figure it was a man, because of the method; also, it is most likely to be someone who lives on the island and knew what Lily would be doing that evening. That's not ruling out, however, someone coming from the mainland with a boat. She apparently had many men friends, so I've begun by trying to get acquainted with any and all who may have been intimate with her."

"That many, huh."

"Yes, Chip Stanley, the man at the Quik Stop, Peter Royal, the club manager, Grant King, a business man from Mobile, Rick Jarrett, a big time Atlanta attorney, to name the ones on the gossip circuit. There may have been others, but I haven't got wind of them yet."

"But why would a man kill her? That's what doesn't add up. She was a little loose, sure, and she probably offended plenty of women, but why would a lover have wanted her dead?"

"Maybe an ex-lover. Jealousy is a powerful motive. And then there's always–I hate to say it–blackmail."

"Really? You honestly believe that's a possibility." Dolores looked shocked.

"No offense, but she liked the good life, but I don't know yet her source of income."

"You can work on motive then; I'll try the scientific approach."

Chapter 10

Dolores had rented a car at the airport, so they didn't have to use Lily's car to get to the ferry, which had a scheduled late morning departure. It was basically a small boat with room for only four cars and maybe twenty people.

The sheriff seemed startled and confused by the presence of both women. When the judge explained who Dolores was, her profession and possible assistance, Sheriff Bumpus cleared his throat and stared for a moment at his manicured nails.

"I can see how you'd like to talk to the coroner about specifics, Miss," he drawled, addressing Dolores, "but I can't allow no tampering with the evidence, tests and suchlike."

"No, sir, I would merely be helping Judge Godbold, I hope, with knowledge gained from my work."

He seemed reassured, and placed a phone call to the coroner, Dr. Randy Le Jeune, who happened to be at the county morgue across the street from the Sheriff's Office. "I'm sending over Judge Godbold and the Lawrence woman's sister, who's helping the judge look into the murder. Be a good girl and tell Doc." He chuckled. "I know, I know, but you can just holler through the door." He hung up grinning. "Hates the sight of blood , does Mary Lee, Doc's clerk. But she said he's there right now working."

"He's not a full time coroner?" Dolores asked.

"Hell, no–pardon me. But he wouldn't have that much to do in this county," the sheriff explained. "He's a G.P. with a regular practice, so he comes when he can."

"By the way, Sheriff, have you come across any information from your interviews that might be helpful?" The judge gave him a hopeful look.

"I was going to ask you the same thing--about your contacts, I mean. As for our interviews, I don't know what to think." He reached over to a vertical file on his desk stuffed with folders and removed one. "If you want, you can have a look. I'll get my girl to make you a copy of the tape transcriptions." He yelled, "Velma!" and in a few seconds his "girl," a middle aged woman in khaki trousers and the official-looking blue shirts with a badge came through the door. He handed her the file with instructions. While waiting for Velma to return, the judge explained she was still trying to figure out what kind of relationships certain men on the island had going with the deceased.

"Until I know that for sure, I'll look more closely at their comings and goings at the party as well as those who didn't attend but knew her well. And I also hope to get more background on Lily from her sister," she continued, smiling at Dolores. "Something may click that will lead us to a motive. But in the meantime, Dolores is interested in whatever forensic evidence was collected and what that may suggest."

"Sounds good," the sheriff acknowledged. "With all of us putting our shoulders to the wheel I see no reason we can't solve this crime." He stood up as Velma entered and handed the judge the copied files.

The women thanked him and proceeded across the street to the low building of cement block that served as the morgue and crime lab. Inside a small hallway, they looked at the several doors that led off of it, wondering what was what. No receptionist, no signs.

"They don't get many walk-ins, I expect," the judge commented, trying the first door on the left. She shut it hurriedly. "Cold storage."

"Bodies?"

"Yes, and with all these open doors too. I guess the days of body snatching are over." She put her hand to her mouth. "I'm sorry. That was extremely insensitive."

"That's all right. When I saw Lily yesterday, she was at the funeral home and looked lovely so I don't really identify her with these bodies. I'm having her cremated."

They opened the other door on the left and walked into the middle of an autopsy. The coroner, dressed in surgical blues covered by a big rubber apron, turned his head sharply. "What do you want?"

"Sorry," the judge said, "Sheriff Bumpus called a few minutes ago. Did your clerk not give you the message?"

"You were probably too speedy for her. Mary Lee takes her own sweet time. I'll be finished in a few minutes. Why don't you wait in the office. Door at the end of the hall." The words were curt, but behind the mask the tone was friendly. He seemed young to the judge, but she guessed he was in his late thirties or early forties. He was tall and lean and from what she could see of his face between the cap and the mask, dark.

Mary Lee the clerk was no timid, shrinking girl as the judge had expected. Instead a prim, blue haired little lady sat typing on the computer.

Again, the judge explained who they were. The clerk broke into a smile. "Yes, indeed, I didn't expect you so soon. Please take a seat. The doctor will be out pretty soon, I'm sure. I just don't like to bother him when he's in the middle of those things." She puckered up her face.

"Thank you," the judge said. It wouldn't be worth while to explain they'd already met him in his den of horrors.

"Excuse me," the judge said, "but I was wondering where the lab was located. It is in this building, is it not?"

"Oh, yes. It's across the hall, opposite those other rooms." She wrinkled her little nose. "It's not as bad as those other rooms, but I never go in there either."

"How often does Dr. Le Jeune come here?" Judge Godbold inquired with a smile.

"Not too often. Sometimes it's an emergency, of course, like with Ms. Lawrence. Are you all related, by any chance?"

Dolores nodded and said, "Sister."

"I'm so sorry, dear. It must have been quite a shock, she so young and all."

They made a few more polite funeral home type remarks to one another, and then Mary Lee, freed from the conventions, continued with her typing.

Twenty more minutes passed before the coroner breezed into the room, changed and spotless in a white shirt and gray trousers. The judge liked his face, not particularly handsome but appealing with its high cheekbones and wide mouth. He greeted them and then motioned that they were to follow him into his office behind Mary Lee's desk.

They sat before him like patients, he leaning back in his old wooden swivel chair. "Sorry to keep you waiting, but it's lucky I was here at all. Someone had discovered an elderly person had died alone in his home, so an autopsy was indicated."

Baby introduced herself and Dolores and then said conversationally, "How do you find the time from your practice to serve as county coroner?"

He shrugged. "I do it as my little public service. I have no wife or children to complicate my life, and I try to keep Monday a little freer as my day to attend to this business. Sometimes, like in the case of–" he looked at Dolores, "–your sister, I may have an occasional weekend stint. I took care of her autopsy last week. But it's not too bad." He sat up as if getting down to business. "What can I do for you?"

"It's evidence we're wanting, Dr. Le Jeune," said Dolores. "I'm a forensic chemist by profession and very interested as a family member to get to the bottom of this killing. The judge is assisting the sheriff sort of unofficially, and now I'm assisting the judge."

"Sounds like a lot of assistants," the doctor said with a pleasant smile. "Still, the more the better, I suppose." Then he turned to Dolores and said, "I'm sorry for you loss. This kind of unexpected death is always hard to take. But I will welcome your assistance. None of us is so infallible at crime solving that we can't use the extra brain and foot power. I'll be glad to get together what I've found." He rose from his chair and went to a file cabinet.

"Take a look at this file first," he said, handing a folder to Dolores, "and then tell me if you need to see anything more."

Dolores read silently, nodding occasionally, while the judge peered over her shoulder. Dolores looked up at the doctor. "I'm glad to see how thorough you were at saving possible evidence. The nail residue, for instance, a swab from the vagina, her clothes." She shuffled the paper and then gasped. The photographs of the victim were in brutal color, from both the scene of the crime and on the autopsy table.

"Sorry," she said shakily, handing the folder to the judge. "I hadn't realized until seeing the pictures how this would affect me."

The doctor rose and went to her side. "I'm sorry. I should have warned you about the pictures. Let me get you some water. Are you lightheaded?"

"A little, perhaps, but I'll be all right. It was a shock, but I'm not the fainting type."

The judge, seeing Dolores was attended to, continued to examine the photographs, particularly of the beach scene that had been stamped so indelibly on her brain. The woman was half curled on her side as she remembered, the left arm across her body, the wound plainly visible. By the time the photographer took the pictures, the tide had gone out completely, so no water lapped around her ankles. The camera captured a look of repose as if she was merely sleeping. But in the flash of the camera compared to the dim light of the nighttime discovery things would naturally look very different.

Somewhat recovered from the experience, Dolores looked again at the typed material from the autopsy. "Apparently, there was no evidence of semen present, but the substance under her nails indicated she'd grabbed at her assailant. Have you run any tests on what you collected?

"We can run simple blood tests here, but the fibers under her nails will have to be sent off–unless you'd like to take a look in our microscope?" He stood up and the women followed. "I saved her clothes, too, but they might be a problem, wet and in a plastic bag for three days. Still, you're welcome to examine them, too. I had planned to send them to next of kin when we finished with them anyway. You might be able to take at least the jewelry."

"Thanks, and if I find anything that looks critical to the investigation, I'll notify you and it can be sent off for deeper analysis to a larger crime lab."

"Sounds good to me." He led them into the lab area and to a bank of lockers. He pulled out a huge ring of keys attached to his belt and selected one. Inside the locker was the bag with Lily's belongings, including a gold watch and the diamond earrings, which he handed to Dolores. A smaller set of plastic bags were on shelves along the top of the locker. "From the nails--it's marked on the front where this comes from. This is a sample of the sand under the body. I tested the blood, which was copious, and found her type present. From that, we may presume she was killed at that spot."

He directed the women to a station with a microscope and other equipment whose purpose was a mystery to the judge. "I'll leave you to it. If you need me for anything, I'll be in my office. I have another report to write up, so I'll be leaving in about an hour."

"I don't think," Dolores said, "this should take that long. Thanks ."

"Not much to go on," the judge said as Dolores set up the samples to be viewed.

"Never can tell," she said absently. Her concentration was now on focusing the microscope to her eyes.

The judge remained silent then, walking around the room, looking with interest at several charts that denoted calibrations and chemical compositions. A skeletal model and another figure showing musculature reminded her of long ago biology classes. The place was spotlessly clean. She wondered if Dr. Le Jeune was the housekeeper here. Surely not Mary Lee.

Dolores was muttering something, so the judge walked over to her side. "What is it?"

"Maybe nothing, but I do see fibers in the fingernail material. Sand, too, of course, but definitely fibers. Woven, I'd say." She looked up. "That could be a break if it's uncommon."

"So that should be sent to the state lab?"

She nodded. "Let me have a look at her dress. It's so wet, though, I bet most everything fibrous was washed off. The killer had that in mind, I expect, when he chose the spot. Probably met her at the dock and walked her down to the water's edge."

"Yes, she went willingly."

Dolores looked a little baffled. "I don't--"

"She wasn't pulled or dragged. I read in the report of the autopsy and found no mention of bruises on her arms or shoulders or neck. Seems logical she went where he wanted her to go."

"I see. Yes. No fear or reluctance, apparently, on Lily's part."

"And that's a clue for me," the judge said with a raised eyebrow. "This forensic stuff has its points."

Chapter 11

They had to hurry to catch the ferry back to the island. Dolores felt satisfied with her look at the collected evidence. "For a kind of seat-of-the-pants operation, Dr. Le Jeune seems to know what he's doing," she commented to Baby.

"I thought so too, but I don't know that much about it. I know forensics is important, but that's not my area of expertise." They'd reached Lily's house and had entered the side entrance.

"I've been wondering about blood, though," Dolores said thoughtfully.

"Blood?"

"Wouldn't a knife wound like that have drenched the killer as well as Lily?"

"You're the expert, but I've seen victims of knifings before and know there can be surprisingly little blood. If he was careful in removing the knife, he might not have gotten it on himself much. Maybe his hands and arms, but that would have been easily washed off in the sea. Clothes, well, he might have gotten away clean as a whistle."

"So he could have returned to the party. That means anyone could have done it."

"You bet, if he was at the party. And that would take colossal nerve." They went into the living room with its large expanse of glass. Baby walked closer to the windows. "If you'll indulge my curiosity, I'd like you to tell me something of Lily's life. Where she went to school. Any jobs. Her marital experience, or what you know of it. That sort of thing." Then the judge gave an appreciative murmur and pointed. "Have you ever seen anything so lovely?" The front of Lily's house, like the others on this beach side, looked to the sea, and in the light from the sun settling low on the horizon, the sky was a deep coral. Palm trees near the boardwalk seemed to have been perfectly drawn onto a colorful canvas.

"It is gorgeous here," Dolores agreed. "Let's get a drink and sit on the lanai before we think about supper."

"Sounds fine to me."

The judge sank onto a deeply upholstered wicker sofa and soon was handed a tall glass of vodka and tonic. The air conditioned sun room was now glowing from the reflected sunset. Dolores began to speak of her sister. "She had an ordinary life like any other girl from a middle class family when she was growing up in Dallas. Pretty girls like Lily have a good time in high school. Maybe too good a time. She–well, I might as well tell the family secret. It can't hurt her now. She almost died from an abortion. As a result, she couldn't have any children. The doctor botched it badly. Evidently, it wasn't his first time to mess up. My folks found out he'd lost his licence and was practicing illegally. I know he got a prison sentence out of it, but I was in England on a student exchange program that year, so I missed out on a lot."

"Your parents? Were they helpful to Lily?"

"Mother was upset, naturally. She had enough troubles without dealing with a promiscuous daughter. She worked at a women's clothing store–very exclusive one, believe me, and she did pretty well, but she was frazzled most of the time. She died from cancer two years ago. My father was a land developer who periodically made a lot of money and either blew it or lost it on bad ventures. Daddy had died of a heart attack while we were in high school before Lily's trouble began. Too bad for us that he was in a down time when he died."

"Did Lily go to college?"

"No, she couldn't stand the thought of more school." Dolores gave a wry smile. "I had to be the smart one, remember, while Lily was the pretty one. She went to work as a model, local TV commercials, some runway stuff, not the big time. Then she met her husband, who was at a huge antiques show in Dallas at a big hotel. She was demonstrating something for some advertisers. He was from Mobile. Ironically, he was something like Daddy--handsome, a charmer, only in a different line. But he wanted to take care of Lily, and he always did okay moneywise. They broke up over money, though, and maybe other things."

"What was that?"

"I'm not absolutely sure." She took a sip of her drink. "I think she was involved with another man, possibly one of Jim's clients."

The judge looked thoughtful. "So her husband wasn't super rich. Then how did she manage to live so extravagantly here?"

Dolores shrugged. "I honestly don't know. I wondered if she managed to get something from the divorce settlement. Maybe from the sale of their home, which was quite a bit. At the time, Jim had plenty of assets, a large antiques shop, booths in malls, even an internet business, I understood from Lily. I suppose she told everyone he's well heeled and that she got a big settlement. I don't really know the details of their divorce. Lily always made things up to suit her sense of reality."

The judge smiled. "So you've spent your adult years trying to find the truth in life while Lily spent hers obscuring it."

"I would expect if you asked ten of her friends about her, you'd get ten different stories."

"I'm interested to hear that she might not have received much alimony. That really does put things in a different light. She was most likely getting money from someone. I think it would be well for us to take a look at her bank statements."

"I haven't run across much in the way of financial records. Only a checking account. I contacted Jim last week, who's still in the antique business. He gave me the name of Lily's attorney who handled the divorce. When I called him, he said she didn't have a will."

"So as far as you know, what you see in the checking account is what you've got."

"Exactly. But you might be able to glean something from that." She went out of the room to get the records and was back in a few minutes with an accordion pleated folder. "Bank statements and check stubs. About a year's worth. I can't find any more."

"Evidently, Lily didn't worry about keeping records for income tax purposes."

"I doubt if she even filed. That would be just like Lily--and just like her to get away with it. She always did."

"But she didn't get away with it this time."

"No." Dolores looked dejected for a moment and then overturned the folder onto the coffee table. "This may take a while. She wrote lots of checks."

"I'm interested in the bank statements, particularly the deposits."

The judge organized the statements by month and began to study the deposit amounts. During the first week of every month, fifty-five hundred dollars had been deposited. There were occasional small deposits from perhaps health insurance reimbursements or investment income. Lily had not noted the deposits on her deposit stubs.

When the judge asked Dolores about those amounts, she again answered in the negative. "I don't know, unless Jim sends her something. I think she was supposed to get alimony for a few years, but I'd think that had run out by now."

"Would you mind calling him and finding out for sure how much he sent her and for how long?"

"Not at all." She rose again and went into the living room to the phone.

The judge examined some of the check stubs and among the expected payments for rent, utilities, club fees, and department stores on the mainland. The judge could hear the low murmur of Dolores' voice. When she returned, she had a frown on her face. "Lily had gotten four years of a very generous alimony, but nothing after that. Sometimes, she called him if she needed more money, and he'd comply, but most of the time, he said she acted as if she was getting along just fine."

"Did he know if she had another source of income?"

"He didn't say. I suppose he wasn't that interested as long as she didn't force the issue."

"I would guess this large, regular deposit came in the form of cash, what do you bet."

"So it can't be traced."

"If we had a suspect, we could get the police to check on his withdrawals," Baby said. "But we can hardly ask that for seven or eight men on the island, which is around the number who had known her and had opportunity." She drained her glass but refused another. "I know my limit–both for calories and a clear head."

"So our task is to find either motive or evidence."

"Both, I hope."

The knock on the door startled them both, for if a car had driven up, the front drive was on the opposite side of the house from the lanai, hidden from view by a row of palm trees..

"I'll get it," said the judge, scrambling to her feet. "I know you're not ready for visits." She hoped her sister-in-law hadn't ignored her advice and succumbed to her insatiable curiosity.

She swung open the front door and gaped in surprise. "Hello. Won't you come in? Dolores isn't accepting social calls yet, but I know she'll want to see you."

Chapter 12

Judge Godbold led him through the living room and onto the lanai where she presented him to Dolores. "This is Dr. Rory DeWitt; he was the first to examine your sister's body. I thought you might want to talk to him." Judge Godbold turned to DeWitt. "Lily's sister, Dolores Rafferty."

He stepped over to her and held out his hand. His face was sober. "I wanted to see if I could be of any help."

Dolores thanked him and offered him first a seat and then a drink. He accepted both. The judge hoped he wouldn't stay too long. Her stomach was growling from hunger, and she didn't want to have to cook for him as well.

After handing him his Scotch and water, Dolores asked him, "You were a friend of Lily's too?"

"Yes, of course. Most of us here who are members of the club are friends to one degree or another. Your sister had her own little circle, but we did play in the same bridge group."

"I'm a forensic chemist at Baylor, so I have an interest in what the scene of the crime looked like. Judge Godbold has been a wonderful help, since she and her brother found the body, but in your examination, can you think of anything that might have been important to note? Something that the police could've overlooked?"

"I don't really know what the police know or think. Have you talked to them in detail about the crime?"

"Yes," the judge interjected, "we were on the mainland today talking first to the sheriff and then to the coroner. Dolores needed to collect some of Lily's belongings."

"And," DeWitt asked, almost eagerly, "what do they say? We already know it's a knife wound. I assumed that was the cause of death, but until the coroner performed an autopsy, that's just speculation. Did anything else significant turn up?"

Dolores looked at the judge who frowned slightly. She went on, "No, they're clueless, actually. It seemed to me they felt all the possible evidence had been cleverly obliterated and that was the end of it."

"What a shame," DeWitt observed musingly. "Since you're in forensics, will you be taking a closer look at what remains? I'd be glad to assist if need be."

"Actually," the judge broke in, "Dolores did get to examine Lily's belongings. They didn't offer much in the way of clues, so she was able to take them with her."

He nodded, then emptied his glass and rose. "I'll leave you ladies to your evening. It must have been a difficult day." Dolores also rose and held out her hand, which he took and covered with his other hand in a comforting way. "I want you to know that I'm at your service. I'm retired and footloose except for the odd bridge or golf game and helping out friends on the island with advice for curing a hangover. I'd have liked to keep my skills up, but I'm really retired and since I wasn't a regular medical doctor I can't practice. But if I can be of any service to you, I certainly would be happy to help out."

The women accompanied him to the door where they thanked him for his concern.

"Will you be here long?" he asked Dolores.

She hesitated and then shrugged. "I'm not sure. I may not rush back to work. I've got plenty of vacation time and no other responsibilities, so I'll probably just clear up Lily's affairs and get my head straight. I talked with the club manager on the phone and he's allowing me to have a memorial service at the chapel in the club house. I'll need to line up a minister."

"But the remains will be interred in Dallas?"

"Yes, her ashes will go in the family plot."

DeWitt nodded sympathetically. "And your parents, other family, won't they be needing you even more, though, now? Won't you be having a funeral there?"

Dolores explained about the family situation. "In fact, I'm all alone, except for a cousin who lives heaven knows where. A service in Dallas, if it's indicated, can be delayed until I get back."

"Then I'll no doubt be seeing you again." He nodded to them and left.

"He's seems an accommodating man," Dolores remarked. "But I saw you warning me not to say much to him. Wouldn't he be the logical one to confide in?"

"He's a suspect too, remember. At this point we don't take anything for granted. The only ones I can attest to as far as having no opportunity are my brother and Hugh Penworthy. I spent much time preceding the murder with both of them."

"And you've definitely ruled out a woman?" Dolores asked.

"Maybe not definitely, but it's highly unlikely, for several reasons. First of all, can you imagine Lily taking a walk along the beach at night with a woman? No? Neither can I, from what I know of her. Rarely is a knife used by a woman except as an emergency weapon for protection. A knife in a premeditated crime is a man's method particularly since it has a sexual component. Well, that's my preliminary reasoning."

"I see your points. So we concentrate on the men in Lily's life here."

"Exactly, and hope we can ferret out the truth."

After a casually put together meal of a salad, boiled shrimp, and rice, the two again settled down to go through the rest of Lily's papers, what few there were.

"Wouldn't it be nice to find a letter that hinted of a questionable relationship," the judge remarked after a fruitless shuffle through receipts, bills, promotion offers for insurance and credit cards and sweepstakes. "Have you cleaned out the waste baskets?" she asked.

"No, just some garbage under the sink. That's an idea, though. Let's see what we can find."

They went first to Lily's bedroom and bath, where two woven baskets served to hold waste paper. The judge knelt and then overturned the one by the phone onto the carpet. Amid old envelopes and used tissues and tags from new clothing--with shockingly high prices--the judge retrieved several crumpled slips of paper, obviously taken from the pad near the phone.

She handed Dolores a couple to decipher while she smoothed out the others to read. "This one looks like a reminder list--'cleaning, call maid, wine, shampoo.' Then a one-eight hundred number. Might check that out. Have you got anything?"

"One with doodles, another one with prices and a name that I can't quite make out--Fenna-something. Italian?"

The judge looked. "Ferragamo. Shoes. Never mind." She glanced at another slip and gave an exclamation. "Look at this! A note with what looks like a reminder: 'Dock–10:30 BE THERE.'"

"My God, Judge, it might be the meeting for murder!"

"It just might. I believe it was figured she'd been killed between 10:30 and 11:00. So most likely the assignation was set up before hand. The capital letters show urgency–someone had made it clear, which I suppose she repeated on paper, that she be there on time."

"So we might assume from this, if it truly referred to that evening, the murder was premeditated." Dolores leaned back against the bed. "But if we don't find some really critical forensic evidence, how will we ever prove who did this to her?"

"If the sheriff hasn't checked her phone log with the telephone company, this note will encourage him to do just that. On the other hand, anyone contemplating murder might not be so stupid as to call from his own phone. How about Lily's cell phone? The call might have come in cell-to-cell."

"I've not seen her cell phone anywhere. I've got the number, here–on my own phone." Dolores rummaged in her handbag and pulled out her phone, flipping it open and clicking through her numbers until she said, "Got it. I'll ring."

They both waited quietly, hoping to hear a buzz or ring. Baby walked through the house, but no sound of a phone came to her ears. "Check her handbag. She may have turned it off."

"It's here," Dolores called.

Baby took the phone from her and began to scroll through recent calls. "I have a feeling the phone records will be useless, but I'll still check with the sheriff. The only one where I don't find a specific name is listed as 'out of area'."

"So," Dolores said, rather despondently, "we're back to no evidence. How does an investigator get to first base when dealing with a clever criminal?"

"Let's see what we know already. We know he knew Lily intimately enough for her to meet with him at night alone, so he is probably respectable. But then who isn't around here–businessmen, lawyers, a doctor, a college professor, even the country club manager."

"They're all are on your list? I may as well get acquainted with the cast of characters. Dr. DeWitt, of course, though he seems too old and kindly to be a brutal killer. Then who?"

"Well, we have the full-of-himself Grant King, who's an investment executive, married to Florence, a bit older than he; Kent Usher, who I've heard has had a few affairs going from time to time. He's a businessman from Mobile with a plain but rich wife; another married one is Richard Denton, retired oilman from Houston, sour puss of a wife.

"The bachelors on the island are Rick Jarrett, a lawyer with other ambitions, hailing from Atlanta; he has a nifty boat that occupies him here. He was pretty close to Lily at one time, but then, he likes a lot of women, I understand; Peter Royal, the country club manager has dated Lily; and I mustn't forget a rather unlikely type, but still . . . a fellow who's part owner of an antique shop on the island, Lonnie Fitzgerald. The shop must do well in private sales to keep such an unlikely enterprise afloat. I suspect he's gay. No romance, for sure, with Lily but a great friendship, he claims. Not just with him she was friendly, but particularly with his partner, Daniel Martin. He wasn't in the shop when I was there. That's about it at first glance. Unless you want to count Chip Stanley, who owns the Quik Stop market and gas station. He, too, seems unlikely to have the means to pay out such a large monthly amount, but he knew Lily quite well, according to rumors."

"Whew! What a list. When and how can I meet these 'gentlemen'?"

The judge pondered for a moment. "I expect we need to go where most of them hang out–the club. I'll get my brother to take us to dinner there tomorrow evening. And Ladies Day is Thursday–a program and lunch. You can get acquainted with the wives, for whatever good that might do. Some of the men might be in and out, too. Also, the following Saturday night is the big Summer Solstice Dance." She looked at the other woman appraisingly. Her hair was as dark as Lily's but worn long and straight, tied in back with a band. Her eyes were a deep blue rimmed with gold flecks, different from Lily's blue-violet hue. But she was as attractive as her sister–or could be with a little help.

"It would be good, I think, if you tried to look more like Lily. Your hair, for a start, could be updated with a cut that accented your lovely oval face. And I know just the place to go for it. Jean's Hair House, where I bet we can get a load of dirt on everybody. I'll call first thing in the morning. Hardly anybody has their hair done early in the week, so we should be able to get in." She ruffled her own short gray bob. "I could use a trim myself."

Dolores looked at the judge in astonishment. "You really think all that's necessary?"

Judge Godbold nodded firmly. "Leave this to me. I want you to wow them. Shock value can be good for us. It might draw out something important if you remind them of your sister." She struggled to her feet. "The next challenge is to figure out which items in Lily's extensive wardrobe are new things--quite a few judging by the tickets in the waste paper basket. I bet we can fit you out in a stunning wardrobe for the week's activities."

"Lily and I were the same height. I'm not as voluptuous, but that's because she had a boob job. As long as I don't put on anything that's recognizably hers, I guess it would be all right. I brought with me only one dress for the memorial service, and it's pretty conservative."

The judge opened up one side of the glass fronted closet wall and peered into it. "Lots to choose from. Still, I think we can tell what's brand new. Here we go!" She drew out a cocktail dress of pale grey chiffon with a rhinestone-studded bodice. The pink silk lining seemed to give an iridescent quality when the judge gently swung the dress. "This must be what she'd bought for the dance Saturday. It would look lovely on you with a little padding up top." She rummaged through the shoe rack, which held dozens of pairs of shoes. "Nothing here that seems suitable."

"Here's a likely looking box." Dolores opened a shoe box and pulled out a silver strap shoe with rhinestones. "How about these?"

"Perfect. Now we know what you'll be wearing for the dance. I hope your shoe size is the same."

They spent the rest of the evening pawing through mountains of clothes, sorting and selecting. The judge, though Junoesque and having passed her sixty-fifth birthday, had always enjoyed the serious art of personal adornment, thinking of people as blank canvases. They just needed the right colors and textures applied to express their personalities and moods and attitudes. It was evident to the judge that Dolores had been limited to a quaint and rather drab naturalness by her plain hair style reminiscent of the sixties, her khaki pants and shirtwaist blouses, her monkish brown sandals. She could easily be transformed into a person of striking appearance with a few significant changes. It would be interesting to observe the reactions of the local players to this Lily-like creature. Daisies were sweet but a Lily was exotic.

Chapter 13

Jean's Hair House was literally that: A tiny old house that on entering seemed to be concerned solely with hair. The judge saw posters of big-haired women on the walls, scraps of hair on the floor, wigs on stands, and Jean herself, with a mop of really blonde hair, greeting them rather abstractedly. She was in the midst of giving a woman the judge didn't know a perm and her hands and mouth were full of papers and rollers. She motioned with her eyes and head for the women to sit down until she was free.

Dolores picked up a hair styles magazine and thumbed through it. "What do you think, Judge," she laughed, holding up a picture of a style that looked like fins on a fifties automobile.

The judge nodded. "That would attract attention, but it might give the wrong impression. We want you fashionably svelte, not outmoded futuristic."

Finally, Jean put a plastic cap on her customer and checked her appointment book. " Let's see, Dolores, do you want to go first?" She looked at both questioningly.

"That's me," Dolores answered, rising. "The judge has some ideas, so maybe she could sit alongside."

"Sure, honey," said Jean to Judge Godbold. "You come right along and sit there while I shampoo you. Then we'll talk about styles."

The judge seated herself in the comfortable barber's chair and looked at photographs of small children, a plaque that said, "Hair today, gone tomorrow," and numerous certificates from boards, styling associations, and a cosmetology school.

Soon Jean had Dolores seated beside the judge and was combing out her long, dark hair. "How long's it been, hon, since you've had a trim?"

"Oh, about a year, I suppose."

"Lots of split ends. No matter how long you wear it, get it trimmed every six months." She looked at the judge in the mirror. "What are we going to do today?"

Judge Godbold smiled. "I thought she'd look nice with some soft layers around her face. Shoulder length, I'd say, wouldn't you, Dolores? Or maybe even a little shorter?"

"Whatever you think, Judge. I'm no expert in hair styling, as you can tell."

"How about it, Jean," said the judge. "What length?"

The woman pulled hair around Dolores's face. "Nice shape. Maybe jaw length. Side sweep bangs. Yeah, that's it. Whattaya think, hon?" she asked Dolores.

"I'd like to try it."

After the snipping got underway, the judge asked Jean, "How long have you been in business on the island?"

"I been here four years now. One of my customers on the mainland told me about the place, said they needed a good beauty salon. I came over, took a look around, and decided this was the place for me." She stopped and turned her head to look directly at the judge. "I never had it so good. These women can't do without me. And I do a good job for them. I keep up with the times, go to conventions, take the latest style magazines. One day a week a nail gal comes in." She resumed her work, long shafts of dark hair falling to the floor around her feet.

"I guess you know most all the women then."

"I do. My partner is off today, had to see a doctor about an ingrown toenail, but between us, I guess we do sixty or seventy appointments a week."

"Goodness. I didn't realize you'd have such a large clientele."

"Are you fixin' to get a place here, or are you just visiting or checking the place out?"

"Both of us are visiting for the time being. I'm from Nashville, and I'm staying with my brother and his wife, the Marshals."

"I know you're Mary Rose's sister-in-law. She said you were coming. She's the sweetest gal."

The judge agreed that Mary Rose was sweet. "And Dolores is here on a sadder mission, taking care of the arrangements for the body and household effects of her late sister, Lily Lawrence."

Jean stopped, comb and scissors suspended in air. "Gosh, I'm sorry, honey," she said to Dolores. "I had no idea. Sure was a terrible thing to happen here."

Dolores thanked her, while the judge went on, "Did Lily come to you, too?"

"My, yes, she was one of my best customers. Beautiful woman, and very particular about her hair. I used a special shampoo that she brought in. Say--let me give what's left to you," she said, leaning forward to look at Dolores.

"No, please, you keep it."

"Huh-uh, honey. I couldn't use her stuff even if I wanted to. It'd seem--sacrilegious or something." She reached under the counter to a shelf and pulled out a bottle that she handed to Dolores. "Now, I feel better."

"Did you do Lily's hair," the judge persisted, "that day, before the party?"

"Sure did. Had a standing appointment. No trim, just a shampoo and comb out. She only wanted it brushed, without rollers or even a curling iron. But it worked, she had so much body." She ran her fingers under Dolores's hair and fluffed it. "You've got the same weight. After I get a dryer and brush on it, we'll have you looking great. Amazing how you look like Lily now. I knew you reminded me of someone."

"Did Lily seem in good spirits, Jean?" The judge was relentless, yet her voice had a casual ring.

Jean continued to blow dry and roll Dolores's hair over a brush without speaking. Judge Godbold was beginning to wonder if Jean had heard the question over the noise of the dryer when the woman said, "You know, I thought at the time she was in a bad mood. Grumpy almost or maybe nervous-acting, which was unusual for her. She could be sharpish at times, but that day she didn't speak much, didn't want to, so I shut up myself."

"So most of the time, Lily was friendly, chatty?"

Jean drew some bangs to one side of Dolores's forehead. "She was always talking, going on about her dates, parties, clothes. She liked her fun. I can't believe she's–sorry. Gosh, whatta shame."

"Did she talk about any one person in particular lately?" This was from Dolores, who'd begun to get the hang of the judge's technique. "I talked to her on the phone now and then, but since I didn't know one name from another, I couldn't sort them out in my head."

"Let's see," Jean said, spraying hair lacquer lightly over the finished coiffure, "it seems she had been seeing a lot of that stud, Rick Jarrett, but that might be a closed chapter."

"Do you know him?" asked the judge in surprise. Somehow, she'd imagined the beauty operator's contacts would be limited to women only.

"Oh, doesn't everybody? He swings around the island in his boat looking like an ad for Old Spice. Most of the men don't like to come here for haircuts because it's usually so full of women, but we hear about 'em, Connie and I."

"Connie's your partner?" the judge inquired.

"Yeah, she's off today," Jean repeated. "Your sister," she said to Dolores, "talked about Rick, I remember, 'cause I mentioned Peter Royal a couple of weeks ago, and she shook her head and said, 'No, Jean, that's off the grid. He doesn't have a boat,' and then we laughed and I asked her if she liked boating and she said it was one of her favorite sports, and then I asked about golf, 'cause I knew she liked to play with, that Denton guy. He has a reputation for women and who can blame him. Bobbi Lou's a customer of mine but she's no fun." She took a deep breath and held up a mirror for Dolores to examine her hair from all sides. "I think that turned out real nice."

"Very nice, don't you think, Judge?"

"Perfect. You did a lovely job, Jean. But you were starting to tell us about Lily and her golf. Didn't she play anymore?" The judge remembered something of the conversation she'd overheard at the party when Lily was expressing much the same sort of disregard for the activity.

"She said the company was getting boring. She never played golf with women that I could tell. Very unusual and, pardon me, Miss Dolores, but it didn't make her very popular with the wives."

"I can understand that," answered Dolores. "She dropped them in favor of their husbands, and then she seems to have dropped the husbands in favor of Rick Jarrett. He's not married?"

"Not a bit." She swung Dolores around in the chair as if about to eject her and said to the judge. "Ready, hon?"

After admiring Dolores's new cut, which was all that the judge had envisioned, she explained how she wanted just a trim as she seated herself at the sink.

"You have nice body to your hair, too, Judge," the hairdresser commented, cranking the judge's head backwards over the basin and applying shampoo. In an amazingly short time after a kind of violent knuckle scrubbing and alternate blistering hot and then icy cold rinses, Jean wrapped the judge's head in a towel and proceeded to business back at her own station.

"Just a trim, you say?" She brushed the hair back slickly. "How about a little uplift? All it means is that instead of combing it behind your ears, when you wash it, you swing the brush so and you get these pretty wings that frame your face. Very youthful."

"Well," the judge said doubtfully, "I don't know. I've always worn my hair this way, at least for the last twenty years or so. What do you think, Dolores?"

"Oh, try it. It can't hurt anything, and if you hate it, you can still modify it to be worn forward. Right, Jean?"

"Might take a little trimming to get it back the same, but sure, it's not permanent, you know. Like I say to my timid type customers, 'Hair always grows.'"

"I've never considered myself timid. Okay, have at it!" Planning Dolores's makeover had really gotten her in the mood, it seemed. She had her private doubts about waves and wings going with her no-nonsense style, but she'd give it a try.

Driving home, Dolores asked the judge, "Did you find out anything significant from Jean's comments? If anything, it sounded as if some of the wives would be the best contenders for the culprit."

"It does, doesn't it. But I'm still doubtful about that. As I mentioned, knifing is unusual for a woman, and frankly, it usually has a substitute sexual element, a form of piquerism. I'm rather fascinated by Lily's association with Rick Jarrett. Was he someone she was genuinely interested in? Or was he a feather in her cap?"

"Maybe she had something on him. He might be the one she was blackmailing."

"Maybe, but for one thing, he's not married, so it probably wouldn't be anything personal. It would have to be professional then, and I wonder how likely it was that Lily would have information that could hurt him professionally." She pulled down the visor and looked in the vanity mirror, adjusting the "wings" that Jean had arranged. "I think the uplift isn't bad. What do you think?"

"It looks great. She's not a bad stylist."

"Back to Lily–was she someone who interested herself in others, their lives?"

"No, not at all. She was completely self-absorbed. We plain types always have had to use some wiles to get men's attentions–asking questions, sometimes feigning interest even, but Lily could talk about only her little concerns and still be fascinating." She pulled into the driveway and stopped the car, sitting still for a moment. "I sound as if I didn't like my sister, but I did. There was something innocent and completely lovable about her. She wasn't a brain, and she may not have had the most sterling character, but I somehow felt she was a lost child, vulnerable."

Judge Godbold nodded thoughtfully without speaking and climbed out of the car. Much work to be done.

Chapter 14

Son and Mary Rose stopped by Lily's house to pick up the two women for dinner. The judge's brother was polite but non-committal when he was introduced to Dolores, but after they had clambered into the car, Mary Rose turned around in her seat and gave Baby a reproachful look.

"Why didn't you tell me she was Lily's twin, Baby? You're so secretive sometimes, you must think you're still on the bench."

Amid general laughter, Judge Godbold attempted to smooth her sister-in-law's ruffled feathers. "I have to tell you that she didn't look this much like Lily when I first met her. Right, Dolores? Oh, there was a family resemblance, and as you can see, Dolores is close to Lily's size, but it took a little doing to achieve the right effect. We're trying to set up this look-alike thing for shock value. Maybe draw out the criminal with some sort of reaction."

"Think that's wise?" Son drawled, glancing at his sister in the rear-view mirror. "He's obviously ruthless and daring. You need to be careful." He pulled into the country club parking lot and opened the door for Dolores.

"We're careful," Baby called out. "But I would like to borrow your service revolver, if I may, Son. Just to keep handy at the house."

"Sure. We'll stop on the way home and get it."

"Thanks." But now Baby was busy observing the reaction of diners as they made their way to a table in the club dining room. A noticeable murmur rose from table to table. Dolores was wearing a long cherry red linen dress that they'd removed the tags from. She and Baby agreed wearing Lily's jewelry was an iffy business, other than some diamond stud earrings, which seemed to be ubiquitous on the island.

After they'd given their orders, a man appeared at Baby's elbow, as he had the day of the sheriff's inquiry. Rick Jarrett, she thought, on the spot.

"For a moment, I couldn't believe my eyes," he said with a smile, holding out his hand to Dolores. "Lily's sister, I presume."

Introductions were performed and Rick was invited to join them, but he made his excuses, saying he had a companion at a neighboring table. "Just wanted to extend my condolences. I thought a lot of your sister," he said, with a melting look that seemed inappropriate for the conversation.

"Whew," she said, after he'd departed. "The Charmer. He seems a bit over the top. What else is in store for me, I wonder."

"Nothing, I hope," Mary Rose said firmly. "You do look lovely, dear. I see everyone is looking over here." She waved gaily.

"Well!" commented Baby. "I might have thought the old sawbones would pay his respects to our table, but he's apparently leaving."

"Maybe he has an important engagement, or even a medical call," her brother suggested. "But then," he added with a smile, "I suppose every male who knew Lily is fair game."

"That seems the most prudent tack to take. Right now, I'm a bit hungry. I wish my chicken cordon bleu would arrive." Almost as if she had been overheard, Peter Royal, followed by a waiter with a tray, came up to their table. He inquired as to their comfort, if their drinks needed refreshing, and then gave Dolores a penetrating look.

"You resemble your sister so much," he said after introductions. "It's quite uncanny, you know. Will you be staying long?"

"No, I'm waiting to see what evidence might be uncovered. With my pathology background, I'm doing what I can to help the coroner, but I don't expect to be here longer than, say–another week." Baby had prepared her to give out this information where it would do the most good. She had a feeling the club manager passed around tidbits of information.

"I hope you'll be at the dance Saturday. I know that it might seem frivolous to you, but I expect it would do you good to get out." Royal gave a sympathic nod to Dolores and then his professional smile to the group at large before he left.

Throughout the meal, other couples stopped by to glimpse close up the remarkable resemblance. Kent and Marilyn Usher stayed the longest, scrunched between Dolores and Baby while having coffee with them. Usher couldn't seem to take his eyes off her. But Dolores handled it coolly. Baby approved of her demeanor.

"So," Usher asked, "are you staying at your sister's?"

Dolores nodded. "I have a lot of stuff to clear out."

"It seems to me, well–you'd be a little spooked." This from Marilyn Usher, who, with her flat features and pallid coloring seemed to have faded into the background.

Dolores flushed and stammered a denial. Judge Godbold had asked that she not make much of her presence in the house. The doctor knew Baby was staying there, but he apparently moved on the fringes of the hard drinking, golfing, or boating set.

Esther Levine also stopped at their table and wished her well, saying she hoped "the police will catch the damned culprit."

The meal came to an end at last, and they took their leave.

"Anything accomplished?" Son asked on the way home.

"I don't know," Baby answered. "I'm still trying to put together a likely scenario for her death. I think we know who was the closest to her. If the coroner and Dolores can't find any physical evidence, we'll have a heck of a time proving anything, even if we uncover a motive. I checked today with the sheriff to see about Lily's phone record over the past month, but he said they were still looking into it." For the sake of prudence, she didn't want Mary Rose to have an inkling of the blackmail suspicions.

Later, after picking up Son's gun and getting instructions, which she airily waved off, "I know, I know. It's just like Dan's, and I've been checked out by the Nashville Police Department," she and Dolores were dropped off with many cautionary remarks from both her brother and his wife.

"I'll call you if we have any problems," she promised.

They changed their clothes and settled on the lanai with a cup of camomile tea and a cookie.

"You know," Baby said thoughtfully, "I think we have to be much more rigorous in looking at Lily's papers. Surely she kept some sort of proof if she was, in fact, blackmailing someone."

"What are we looking for?"

"I'm not sure, but nothing should be discounted." She yawned. "We'll start first thing tomorrow and leave no stone unturned."

Chapter 15

Immediately after breakfast the next morning, Baby was interrupted by a visit from Richard Denton. Dolores had left the room to take a shower, and Judge Godbold was cleaning up their breakfast dishes when she heard the front door bell.

Denton greeted her with raised eyebrows, obviously expecting Dolores to answer the door. And instead of stating his business, he peered around her into the room as if he'd lost something. "Where's the look-a-like?" he asked. But his tone was light, only of interest and curiosity; Baby didn't take it for rudeness.

At her surprised silence, he explained, "I was on my way home from an early golf game and thought on the spur of the moment to stop by and greet Lily's sister." He was dressed in the island golfer's uniform–colorful shorts, a polo shirt, and driving moccasins.

"Dolores will be out shortly. I'm afraid you caught us deshabille." She looked down ruefully at her wrap, a well worn Chinese affair that she'd picked up years ago in Hong Kong. Comfortable, though. "Come in and have a cup."

He walked beside her into the kitchen with what seemed like studied ease, asking a lot of questions. "How has she taken the death? Were they close? Have you talked to the sheriff lately? I heard you were something of a sleuth yourself."

In the kitchen, Baby observed Denton without seeming to, chatting casually about Dolores and the investigation while pouring him a cup of coffee. He didn't seem agitated in any way. He declined milk or sugar, and she nodded to herself–his slim athletic build was not necessarily a matter of genes. Good habits always show, she thought, and sucked in her own stomach and firmly put down the milk pitcher. Thinking aloud, though well aware of the answer, she said, "As I recall, you're pretty much a gentleman of leisure now, retired early from the business world, wasn't it?"

"Yes. I had a goal of retiring by the time I was fifty." He looked down and shrugged with mock modesty. "Sounds conceited, I guess, but I almost made it. Fifty-two."

"How nice, if that was your goal. We have something in common. I retired recently from the judiciary myself, though I can't claim it was before any remarkable age."

"Was it criminal court?"

She explained again about her rather mundane court work. "But somehow, I've always had an interest in crime–solving it, that is. Circumstances have made it possible for me to indulge my little hobby."

"What a curious hobby! Have you gotten anywhere on this latest crime?"

"I can't say yet." Was it merely curiosity or was he fishing for some reason. Baby knew enough about human nature to realize that any successful businessman would have to be a real poker player. She remembered the bridge game and his careful, intelligent play. What was this visit really in aid of?

"It's baffling," she continued, "why someone would end a life like Lily's. She was a kind of butterfly, I imagine, flying around sampling the good things of life. Hardly a dangerous woman." But as she spoke she thought of the money recently deposited. The butterfly may have changed into a worm.

"I know." He nodded gravely. "I'd like to help if I can, but I'm probably a suspect."

"Why?" Baby asked bluntly. Was his comment for effect or did the little community know something about Denton and Lily, and he hoped to deflect suspicion by his openness?

"Confidentially, I was a bad boy for a while like many of the men around here, fooling around with the lovely Lily. She was all for it, you know. No strain on my part whatsoever. Believe me, Judge, my wife and I have never discussed the episode, and that's all it was, a crazy affair that ended quickly."

"When did it end?" My, my, she thought, Lily had been throwing her charms around fairly indiscriminately. The other tales of married men might also prove to be true. And they worthy subjects for blackmail. She remembered with a kind of sadness the gossipy Bobbi Lou Denton and her whispered rumors of Lily and married men. Maybe the wife always was the last to know.

"Oh," he answered airily, "six months ago, I guess. We met here, at her house, a few times, and within, maybe three months, it was over. No one the wiser."

"What or who broke it up?"

Denton took a sip of coffee before replying in a low voice. "I'm glad her sister is out of the room. I don't like to speak ill of the dead, but I found her to be a–well, to be blunt, a whore. She was always wanting something–jewelry, clothes, even a car–for her favors. It was getting a bit sticky, so I kissed her goodbye."

"Did she object? Threaten to expose you?"

"Hell, no. She had plenty of takers after me. I heard about several that were lined up."

"But you're sure your wife doesn't know? I'd think in this small place and the natural love of gossip, she'd hear eventually."

"I don't think she knows, but, even if she hears rumors, we both know it's better if these things are ignored. Why stir up trouble, especially when it's over. We haven't had the most successful marriage, but we don't want to break up for a variety of reasons. I expect it's like that for many other couples."

Baby swirled the dregs of coffee in her cup thoughtfully, then looked directly at the man and asked, "Why did you really come here so bright and early? You didn't know I was staying here, did you?"

Even with such a direct assault, Denton smiled coolly. "You don't mess around, do you, Judge. Honestly, I was passing by the house on my way home and wanted to welcome the lady. I'd heard from the boys in my foursome that she was a dead ringer–oops, bad choice of words."

"I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" Dolores entered the kitchen dressed for the day in yellow capri pants and a white shirt knotted at her waist. Denton rose while Baby performed introductions.

"I can't tell you how sorry I am that you were brought here under such dreadful circumstances," Denton said to her. He offered her his seat and pulled over another chair for himself. "I really must be going soon, but I wanted to meet you, if briefly, to tell you that my wife and I would like to have you–and judge–over for dinner some evening. Bobbi Lou will call you."

"How nice, but I'm not sure about my plans. Everything is so up in the air . . . ." Her voice trailed off, but she looked at Baby for her silent opinion. Judge Godbold nodded slightly. "We're still sorting through papers and things. You can imagine what a task that is. But if you'll give me another day, I'll know more about my plans for staying."

"It must be difficult for you, going through everything, trying to sort the wheat from the chaff. What's important and what's not, I mean." Suddenly his voice seemed strained, his speech clumsy.

"Yes, the judge has been kind enough to help. It's not a pleasant job, but it must be done."

Denton's sun-browned face crinkled as he barked a laugh. "I know this sounds stupid, but speaking of papers, I hope you'll check for any little notes from me to your sister. Lily and I played a sort of game, you might say. Silly romantic stuff. I wrote her from time to time and slipped her the notes at parties and the club. That sort of thing. Really dumb, I can now see. Meant nothing. Still, it would be best if I got them back. I wouldn't want anyone thinking the worst." Again he gave a brief laugh.

"I don't recall coming across any notes from you–yet. Do you, Judge?"

"Not really, but we'll keep that in mind, of course."

"I'd appreciate it. After all, what does it matter now to anyone." He rose to leave, saying he'd show himself out, not to bother.

When they heard the front door close and then the low throb of the car engine, Baby said dryly. "I think we have a nervous fellow. Whether from anxieties about his wife finding out or the sheriff finding out about the affair, I'm not quite sure. But as he told me, he is a suspect."

Chapter 16

The two women decided to take a brisk walk along the beach while the temperature was still moderate. As usual, a breeze was blowing in from the Gulf, making little frothy waves lap at their bare feet. They'd skipped the boardwalk in favor of a shoreline walk, even though it meant detouring around residential piers and an occasional jetty. Baby had already pointed out the spot on the beach near Lily's dock where her body was found; today, they walked the other direction as if it might be in bad taste to walk over the spot.

Judge Godbold stopped for a moment and rolled her cotton slacks to the knee. "I'm getting soaked. I know shorts or a swimsuit would be practical, but I haven't been at this seaside resort long enough to succumb to the typical fat woman's absence of vanity."

Dolores laughed and said, "I know what you mean. Most of us wouldn't go to the grocery store in some of the outfits seen on the beach, yet they're both public places."

Baby cast an envious look at her companion's slender figure. "You could go anywhere in beach wear and be only admired."

"You're kind, but I'm really amazed at the effect my transformation has been having on people. I'd always been in Lily's shadow and thought of myself as plain, rather unattractive, actually. For the first time, I feel good about my looks."

"It shows in your attitude, too. I suppose that's what makes those who literally attract people attractive. Assurance, a kind of inner vitality that comes from confidence."

Dolores stooped to pick up a shell. She turned it over and ran a finger along its smooth, pearlescent interior. "I always thought people were like shells, so to speak. Some are beautiful on the outside, while others must be opened to appreciate their worth."

"That's not a bad analogy. Frankly, though, I like to see your mother-of-pearl showing. You look beautiful."

Dolores laughed but seemed pleased. "Thanks, Judge."

After they'd walked for fifteen minutes, they turned around and walked back. Baby pointed out who lived where as they passed different homes. They'd walked the opposite direction from Son and Mary Rose's house, but Baby promised she'd see their home soon enough.

"I'm afraid you're in for a meal at my brother's regardless. Mary Rose said something about us coming over tomorrow evening. If you'd rather not, I can–"

"No, Judge," Dolores interrupted. "I'd love to come, really. They both seemed very nice, and I'm beginning to realize my cocoon-like existence in the lab hasn't helped me much socially. Almost without realizing it, I've turned into an old maid, and I hate that description." She took a deep, appreciative sniff of salt air. "In an unexpected sort of way, this trip has been an eye-opener."

Home again after their thirty-minute outing, they'd just started to work on another drawer in the desk when the phone rang. Both groaned, but Baby rose to her feet. "I'll get it. You may need me to run interference for you."

She listened silently after her initial greeting and nodded. "I'm very impressed. Dolores will be eager to hear more, too." She turned and winked to Dolores. "Why don't you come to the island on Saturday and join our little party at the country club. My brother and his wife have a table for a dinner dance, very informal, I'm sure. You can chat with Dolores and me about the report. There's nothing more to be done from your end in the meantime, anyway. So we can compare notes then. Can you make it? Excellent! Just take the late afternoon ferry and drive over to–what's this address?" she asked Dolores, who was looking at her with raised eyebrows.

Dolores wrote the address on a slip of paper and handed it to Baby. Arrangements were made and Baby hung up the phone, a smile breaking out on her face.

"What luck! Randy Le Jeune has some data back from the crime lab on the fingernail scrapings. And he's agreed to join us Saturday night so we can go over the details and plan our strategy."

"What did he find?" Dolores sat back on the floor, resting on her hands.

"Nothing easy for us. Natural linen fibers, of all things. Lily was wearing silk, so it's not from her own clothing, but unfortunately, all the men must own at least one pair of linen slacks or shorts." She frowned. "I wish I had a better memory of what the men had on that night. It's funny, but we don't seem to pay attention to men's trousers."

"Not unless they're plaid, too short, or unzipped. But I see what you mean about the report being a challenge. However, I know there are microscopes that can tell dye lots and thread density and other particularities of a fiber, even natural linen. So if we can spot who killed her based on motive, then maybe we can prove it with the fibers."

"Ah, there's the rub, motive. And to get a subpoena there needs to be just cause. We haven't gotten that far. There's the culprit's opportunity, too, to consider, but again during the confusion of the party, most of us couldn't keep track of those we came with, I suspect, let alone everyone else."

"Let's keep looking through this mess," Dolores suggested, turning back to the drawer which was stuffed with notebooks, bills, little boxes of jewelry, and rolled up belts.

"Tell me more about Lily's early pregnancy and abortion. Who was the father?"

"A young man from a good family, who paid for the abortion. His name was Lance Ravanel–I'll never forget it. The name sounded like something from a Southern Gothic novel."

Baby threw some old receipts she'd examined into the waste basket. "I guess he's out; I don't remember meeting anyone of that name, and he'd hardly be likely to change his name because of a youthful mistake." She gazed out the window thoughtfully. "What about the doctor? If he went to prison, lost his licence, he might very well have changed his name, taken a new identity in a place where no one would question his credentials. Or maybe he changed his profession–it's been done before."

Dolores nodded slowly. "That would be good to check on. But I don't remember his name at all. How could we trace it?"

"Dallas, wasn't it. I have a friend with the Texas Rangers. I'll give him a call. What year did the abortion take place?"

"Let's see, I was in England during the '92-'93 school year, so it would have been the fall of 1992. When I got home the following summer, everything was over, the doctor convicted and sent away. None of us wanted any reminders, so we never discussed it."

Judge Godbold heaved herself to her feet. "I'll put in a call right away to trace records of a doctor in Dallas who was convicted in 1992. That would be a excellent place to begin. At least we'll be doing something." She left the room to get her address book.

When she returned after about fifteen minutes, she was smiling. "That's taken care of. Captain Bronson will get the information–what is it?" Dolores hadn't looked up but was staring at a piece of paper.

"How strange. This is a contract, a lease agreement for Lily's car. It's in the garage, I expect, though I haven't even looked for it."

"So?"

"It's got a co-signer, which perhaps I can understand, but Grant King? As I recall, he's some sort of relative of Jim Lawrence, isn't he?"

"Yes, and we now know that he was at least one of her sugar daddies. But I guess we shouldn't damn him without a little more investigation. He may have merely agreed to sign for her as a surety, since she had no employment, no visible means of support. Could mean nothing, or could mean a lot."

"But how can we check on this? Would the leasing agency tell us who sent the money?"

"I doubt if they'd know or have a record even. Our only practical approach is to beard the lion in his den–talk to Grant King and see what his story is."

Dolores sighed. "So much to do, so little time to do it. My time is limited, Judge. I can stay here only through next week." She smiled suddenly. "But at least it's not all work and no play. I'm looking forward to the dance Saturday night. How did you happen to invite that nice Dr. Le Jeune?"

Baby shrugged. "He seemed like he needed a diversion. Those monkish, dedicated men who reach forty without a commitment are not necessarily happy about their personal circumstances. Sometimes, a narrow existence just creeps up on them. He jumped at the invitation, so I'd say he might be ready for something new and different in his life."

"I know just how he feels," Dolores commented dryly.

Chapter 17

That evening at the Godbolds' Dolores announced she planned not to attend the Ladies Day luncheon. "I appreciate the invitation," she nodded at Mary Rose, "but I'm really not quite up to seeing all those women en masse." She turned to Baby. "If you'll let me off the hook for this, I'll not protest about the dance Saturday night."

"Of course, dear," Mary Rose answered, her still lovely blue eyes filling with sympathetic tears. "We are callous, aren't we, forgetting you've lost a sister so recently." She didn't look at her sister-in-law, but her words made Baby squirm a bit.

"I can interview King myself," she said, "so you needn't think you're letting the side down."

"Interview King?" her brother inquired. "What's that all about?"

"I'm not sure, but we found some papers that bear investigating." She didn't want to say more, knowing Mary Rose's inability to keep her mouth shut.

Baby and Dolores left the house at about nine o'clock with many thanks for the dinner. "I'll walk over in the morning so I can dress here," Baby promised Mary Rose. She refused offers to drive her. "I've got to keep up my exercising somehow, and it's less than a mile." With the good food and lack of activities, she'd was afraid of added inches around her already ample waist.

They had no sooner walked into Lily's house when the phone rang. As usual, Baby answered and found to her surprise that the antique dealer, Lonnie Fitzgerald, was on the other end.

"I hope I'm not calling too late, Judge. I've been trying to reach you since Daniel got back from his buying trip this evening. He has something to say to you. Very mysterious. He won't tell me!" Lonnie sniffed. "But I know you're helping to look into the murder case."

She assured him they had not retired and waited expectantly, but he wouldn't say more on the phone, only that Daniel wanted to meet with her as soon as possible.

"I'm engaged for luncheon, but I'll come by the shop later in the afternoon, if that suits."

Baby turned from the phone with puzzlement on her face and told Dolores of the request for a meeting. "I wonder what that's all about. It concerns his partner, Daniel Martin."

"Daniel and Lily were great friends, didn't you tell me?"

"That's what Lonnie said when I visited the shop. Interesting! Would you like to come with me after I get back from the club?"

"Yes, I would. That way I can drive you over, too, and you won't have to get your family involved."

It was with a certain amount of anticipation that Baby hiked over the next morning to her brother's house, anticipation unwarranted by the luncheon itself. She hoped she'd be able to run into Grant King and ask him about the car payments. His response would either clear his name or be a cause for further investigation of the relationship. Then the mysterious summons from the antique dealer. She hummed as she plowed through the sand, disdaining the easier boardwalk in front of the houses. Within twenty minutes, she was slipping in through the patio door and greeting Mary Rose, who was on the phone.

"Hello, Baby," she said, covering the mouthpiece. "I'll be ready shortly. We want to get there at about eleven for sherry."

Baby grimaced to herself, remembering other club luncheons and the inevitable sherry chatter prior to the food and program. But it was all in a good cause–two good causes, considering she wanted to be an agreeable guest as well as a competent investigator.

She considered her available clothes carefully and chose a printed silk that flowed becomingly to below her calf. The sleeves were a bit short and revealed the unpleasant sag above her elbows, but she wouldn't be alone in revealing that sign of middle age.

After she dressed, she stepped onto the patio and saw Son returning from an early morning fishing expedition in the Bay. He had a creel slung across his chest which seemed suspiciously light as it bounced.

"No luck?" she called.

He gave her a rueful smile. "No, darn it. I haven't got the right lures, I think. I need to get me a fishing mentor. Maybe Frank Penworthy would consent to have me along. I hear he's a crackerjack fisherman." He turned before going into the garage. "You look nice. I like that dress."

It was comforting to be complimented, even by one's brother, she thought, although Son had always had the power and prestige of an accomplished older brother. Each had the gray eyes, but while hers were bright and inquiring, his penetrating gaze could still remind her of cold steel even after all these years. He'd been helpful with some of the other crime cases she'd worked on, too. Maybe she'd have to have a little talk with Son, sans Mary Rose, and get his take on the probable suspects.

At the club, sherry was followed promptly by a rich crab and shrimp dish; a green salad with mandarin oranges and almonds; delicious, calorie-laden sticky rolls; and creme caramel and coffee for desert.

"And I was going to be so good and eat lightly," she moaned to her sister-in-law. In fact, she'd been a little distracted from her enjoyment of the meal and the program, which consisted of a make-over expert who discussed the various physical types and what clothes and accessories should be worn. Baby's eyes continually strayed to the broad expanse of window, which overlooked the eighteenth hole. Various teams of golfers had been returning during the lunch and program, but she hadn't spotted King.

At one point in the program, she was startled by Mary Rose punching her, urging her stand up. "What?" she asked, puzzled.

"She wants you to stand up."

"Me?"

"Yes, to demonstrate a type," Mary Rose hissed. "Weren't you listening?"

She reluctantly stood up while the eyes of the assembled women turned on her and the speaker announced she was a perfect "Natural." Apparently, her blunt features, softly waving short hair, and medium sized print "worked." The woman added a few makeup and jewelry hints, "No overdone eyes, and simple jewelry with natural stones" while Baby smiled gamely and sat down as soon as possible until the speaker turned her attention to some other poor soul.

She looked again out the window, frantic she may have missed Grant King while she was on display. Would she have to visit the locker room? She stood up again and whispered to Mary Rose. "Restroom. Be back in a minute," and made an unfortunately ostentatious exit through the crowded room.

Her instincts were correct, for as she entered the golf shop, Grant King was emerging from the lockers. She walked up to him and asked if they could speak privately.

He didn't bat an eye at her strange request. "Come on in to the little parlor. It's probably empty." She followed him into the room next to Peter Royal's office and took a seat, indicating she wished him, too, to settle for a talk. He sat instead on the arm of a sofa and looked inquiringly at her.

"As you may or may not know, I'm assisting the sheriff in his investigation of Lily's death, and through a search of her papers, her sister and I came upon a peculiar thing. We found a lease agreement for Lily's car, with you as co-signer. Furthermore," she went on as he started to protest, "we didn't find any payments to the dealership in Lily's canceled checks, which suggests you may have been making the payments for her."

"So?" he said with a hint of a sneer in his voice and angry eyes.

Going to brazen it out, are you, she thought, unruffled. "That's not the usual thing, is it, paying for a casual friend's car? You must have had more of a relationship with Lily than you told the sheriff."

His lips tightened. "I felt sorry for the poor kid. She got in over her head, for one thing, using bad judgment in living here, which is pretty expensive, let's face it. I suppose she hoped to land a rich guy, but I wasn't the one. If you must know, I'm a cousin of her husband's. We're from Alabama, too, you know, and I wanted to help her out when Jim left her pretty much high and dry. Lily didn't advertise the fact, but it's true. To be absolutely honest, Florence didn't care for Lily. Thought she acted cheap."

Baby nodded and then rose. "Thanks, Grant, I think that explains it very well. We have to look at every angle, of course, in the hope we'll find someone who had it in for Lily."

He was more affable now. "Sure, sure, I understand. I want you to nail the S.O.B. that killed her too. But it wasn't me. I liked her well enough but left her alone. I knew a lot about her too, so there wasn't any magic for me. "

"Evidently, Lily lost her magic with someone else. The fact that he was dangerous turned out to be Lily's bad luck. Any ideas who?"

He frowned and answered in the negative. "I can hardly believe that we've got a killer in our midst, but no one reported seeing a stranger come over to the island that night, did they?"

"No. But we haven't yet explored every possibility. We'll find him. He can't hide forever behind his facade, whatever that is."

Chapter 18

After struggling out of her pantyhose and climbing into a comfortable pair of slacks with an elastic waistband, Baby ran a brush through her hair, reapplied lipstick, and joined Dolores, who was boxing up papers to be thrown in the trash.

"I'm ready to go to see Daniel Martin. Shall we be on our way?"

Dolores rose and rubbed her back. "This packing and sorting is tough on unused muscles. I think I need to work out more."

Baby gave Dolores directions to the street where the antique shop was located. No cars were in the small parking lot, but a sign on the door said, "Open." They walked in and Baby hallooed. But no voice or footsteps answered her call.

"Odd," she said to Dolores. "I told Lonnie I'd be over after the luncheon. I can't imagine leaving the place unattended, can you?"

"No living quarters in the shop, either, but where does that door lead, I wonder."

"Storage or office, I suppose," Baby said, giving the door knob a twist. She found a wall switch and the room was flooded by the light from a simple light fixture in the ceiling. The place had a desk and filing cabinets and also seemed to have a storage area. Behind a screen at one side of the room were boxes of dishes and other odd items along with some pieces of furniture and an upended mantel. The two women stood for a moment, looking around.

Baby moved to behind the desk that stood out from the wall and said, "Oh, oh."

"What is it?" Dolores asked, moving toward her.

"If you're squeamish, don't come any closer. This must be Daniel Martin. And he's had his throat cut, and he's dead."

"I'm not squeamish, but I'm not that curious to see, either." Dolores moved toward the front room. "I'll call the sheriff." She was rummaging in her handbag for her cell phone.

"I think 911 gets the constable, who lives fairly close. He's not much help, but at least we'll have company until the sheriff can get here."

Baby, meanwhile, had taken a look at the phone on the desk and seeing it had caller i.d. she began to hit the arrow key to check the history of incoming calls. Nothing that morning suspicious other than a call the day before from "out of area," which usually meant a disposable cell phone. Still, that wasn't necessarily a clue.

Within five minutes Constable Ravens arrived, straining to impose his authority on the situation. He asked a few questions, which the women could not answer: who might have been here; where was Lonnie Fitzgerald; why would anyone have killed the antiques dealer?

"Well," he drawled, giving up. "Sheriff Bumpus will be here and he can get to the bottom of this." He craned his scrawny neck at the judge. "It seems you've brought your big city crime with you."

Dolores snorted and Baby said calmly, "Then I'll just have to bring my big city detective methods into play, won't I."

They stood silent for several minutes, only moving toward the outer room when they heard the slam of a car door. "That was fast," said the constable, peering out. "No, that's Lonnie. He'll be right shocked–or he better be."

Lonnie Fitzgerald entered his shop with a look of puzzlement. "What's going on, Constable? I can't think you're too interested in our merchandise."

"I hate to break the bad news, Lonnie, but your partner's in the next room. He met with foul play."

Lonnie started toward the door, but Baby intercepted him and drew him back. "Don't go in there, please. We're waiting for the sheriff. I'm afraid Daniel didn't get a chance to talk to me. Someone arrived here first."

"What! You don't mean Daniel's been murdered?" His face registered horror, then grief as the judge explained what she'd found. Lonnie moaned and sank into a chair. He put his head in his hands and sobbed, "I can't believe it, I can't believe it."

Judge Godbold patted his shoulder and said in a calm voice, "I know this is a terrible shock," Baby said in a gentle voice, "but we all need to pull together and find out what happened. Where exactly had you gone after we spoke?"

He wiped his eyes on a tissue supplied by Dolores and spoke haltingly. "I–I just went over to the mainland to go to our bank to straighten out some sort of screw up."

"And did you accomplish that?" the judge asked.

"That was the funny thing. No one at the bank knew anything about a problem with our account. I spent at least an hour there while people from different departments tried to check on it, but there was no discrepancy. Luckily, the ferry was getting ready to go to the island when I got to the dock, so I got back right away."

"How long were you gone?"

"About, let's see, two hours."

"The person that set you up for an appointment–did you recognize the voice? Man or woman?"

"It was funny sounding, like a man's voice with a furry or muffled tone. But coming from the bank, I didn't give it thought. They change personnel periodically and it didn't have to be anyone I knew personally."

"Of course," Baby said thoughtfully.

An unintelligible noise seemed to emanate from the constable's person. He spoke into his remote receiver and said, "Yes, sir. Be right over." He turned to the others. "Can I trust you not to touch anything?"

They nodded their assent, the Baby rolling her eyes at Dolores.

"Judge," he went on, "I'll put you in charge. I've got to go to the dock and meet the sheriff and the coroner. They took the boat. Be back in a little bit."

After he left with a throaty roar of engine and squeal of tires, Baby again addressed Lonnie. "Do you have any idea who might have had a grudge against your friend?" Jealousy and violence were not unknown in the gay community, and Baby had seen before the consequences of promiscuous behavior. She had to make sure this murder didn't have another motive unconnected to Lily's murder.

"No! No one that I can possibly imagine. Daniel and I were–very close, and he and I kept very much to ourselves. We occasionally went in to Mobile to get a change of scene, but we really didn't have any dealings with anyone there. We didn't do the gay bars, if that's what you mean." He bowed his head in his hands and cried, "Oh, if only I hadn't gone today."

"But then, you might have met the same fate as Daniel," Baby said.

He looked startled and asked, "Do you think my trip was a ploy, something to get me away so they could–do that to Daniel?"

"Do you know what he wanted to say to me?"

"Only that he knew something about Lily's concerns before she was murdered that might be helpful to the investigation. He'd just gotten in from that buying trip, you know, and hadn't heard a word of Lily's murder until I told him. They were such great pals, and he'd even go to her house and, well–she let him try on her clothes. He didn't regularly cross dress, but for fun he'd make like a chick. She must have told him something just before her murder." He thought a moment. "I remember something. He did say that Lily made some comment that life was a crock, or something of the sort; that the past was catching up with someone they both knew, whoever that was. I just figured she had lover trouble and wanted a shoulder to cry on. She, ah, had quite a few men on the string, you know." He glanced at Dolores. "Sorry."

"That could be it," Baby exclaimed. "The killer thought she might have exposed too much about a spoiled relationship to her confidant. Daniel was known to be friendly with Lily?"

"Oh, my, yes. People called him her pet poodle. Cruel, really," he sniffed. "He was an artistic, lovely person with exquisite taste."

"What now, Judge?" asked Dolores, after the sheriff had arrived with the coroner. Randy Le Jeune had only cocked a worried eyebrow at the two women and then had gone straight into the back room to begin his preliminary examination.

"I doubt that we'll find out much more at this time," Baby said. "I presume he was killed within the last two hours. What a chance the killer took! In broad daylight, in a public place."

"He must be desperate," Dolores commented. "Would it be profitable to question any other establishments on this road?"

Lonnie pulled back the curtains that covered the window. "What establishments? The café has virtually no business and is a little out of the way; ditto the car parts store. And that's not a house over there, only a deserted machine shed that belonged to a long gone small acreage. It's practically a deserted road, though there's a path behind the shop that leads to the ferry."

"So it was ideal for committing murder, provided no one visited the shop," Baby said, "and they knew you'd be taken care of for a couple of hours."

"And this is not the sort of place that many people pop in to shop. I call my customers for special items they've requested we find. Which was the main reason for Daniel's attending the estate sale. We mostly get orders, you might say, with only occasional retail shoppers."

"So it's likely the killer was knowledgeable about Daniel and Lily's relationship–and worried enough to take a chance and come here in broad daylight after sending Lonnie on a wild goose chase." Baby looked thoughtfully at the bereft man, who was wandering distractedly around the shop, fingering items and putting them in place again. "You might now be in danger yourself if the killer thinks Daniel told you something."

"Just a minute," Dolores said, "we may have jumped to the wrong conclusion. What about robbery? Have you looked to see if anything was missing? Check the cash register."

Lonnie looked around the shop. "The merchandise seems to be all here, the valuable pieces in cases, which haven't been broken into. And we don't have a cash register." He went behind a glass case near the door and opened a drawer of a small desk. "Just a zippered bank envelope for change. We don't do much cash business and keep only $50.00 on hand." He held up the green plastic case and unzipped it. "Nothing missing."

They all seemed to come to attention when the door to the back room opened and Dr. Le Jeune emerged, followed by the sheriff and the constable.

"What in the world were you ladies doing at the scene of this crime?" Bumpas asked.

"I had an appointment with the deceased," Baby answered. "But the killer canceled it." She addressed LeJeune. "What did you find out from your examination?"

"He was killed approximately an hour ago, give or take half an hour."

The sheriff went over to the judge. "What do you know about this murder?"

"Nothing much, so far. Daniel wanted to tell me something about Lily, according to Mr. Fitzgerald. Something she told him about her fears, her frustrations, perhaps. The murdered man had been out of town when she was killed. When he heard of it, he told Lonnie he wanted to see me, but he wouldn't spill the beans to his partner, maybe at Lily's request.."

"You Lonnie, the partner?" He gave the antique dealer a sharp look.

Lonnie nodded. "Yes, Daniel and I own the place." He gave a small choked sob, wiping his eyes with his sleeve.

The sheriff told Ravens to get Lonnie's statement and led the women outside, followed by Le Jeune. "I want to know exactly what happened when you arrived here," he said to the judge.

"We got here about thirty-five minutes ago, expecting to see Daniel. We saw no cars in the vicinity. Lonnie had me called last night and said Daniel had just gotten in town and was very upset about Lily. Lonnie had heard I was helping on the case, and he must have discovered from calling my brother's that I was staying with Lily's sister, who decided to come along with me.

"When we couldn't raise anyone inside the shop, I went through the door into the back room and found the body. I saw no weapon." She turned to Randy Le Jeune. "It was a knife, I figure, but would you say it was the same as the one that killed Lily?"

He shook his head. "Hard to say absolutely without an autopsy, but indications are it's the same narrow bladed knife. Sharp, too. No apparent bruising at the point of entry."

"I thought so. The killer must have kept his weapon. This is a tough case, since we have little or no physical evidence to go on, wouldn't you agree, Sheriff?" Ravens and Lonnie joined the group outside, apparently finished with Lonnie's statement.

"Yes, ma'am, I'm about flummoxed over this one." Sheriff Bumpus drew the judge aside. "Have you gotten anywhere with your inquiries yet?" He tipped his hat upwards and wiped the sweat off his broad, red brow.

"Not yet, though Dolores and I are exploring every possible avenue. We're concerned for the safety of Lonnie though. Since he and Daniel lived together, it might be supposed by the killer that Lonnie knows what Daniel was going to tell me."

"Does he?"

Baby looked thoughtful. "At this point, no, he thinks he doesn't know anything significant, but I'd like to talk to him some more. In the meantime, is there any way he can be protected?"

"Now, judge, do you think we're set up to offer that kind of service?" Sheriff Bumpus looked amused. "The best I can do is take him to jail."

"Well, no, that wouldn't be good, either." She thought a moment and then turned to Dolores, "Would you think it an awful imposition if we took Lonnie in for a few days?"

"Of course he can stay with us. Maybe we can draw out information that will be useful."

Randy Le Jeune took Dolores's arm and turned her toward him. "Wait a minute. Aren't you gals getting in over your heads? We're talking about a double murderer, you know."

"We'll have Lonnie to protect us," Baby said with a sober face. "And besides, I've got my brother's .38 and I know how to use it. Don't worry, we'll watch our backs."

"If Mr. Fitzgerald wants to go with you, I guess it's all right with me," the sheriff conceded. "But don't go gunslinger on me. First sign of trouble, call Ravens and he'll take over."

"I promise."

"But, Judge," Lonnie stammered, "I can't live with you two women. I've got my business, all my things at the house."

Baby waved away his concerns. "You know, it's best if the business closes for a few days. At least I'm hoping it'll only be for a short while, and that this situation will be cleared up very soon."

"Really?" Dolores looked at her in surprise.

"Yes." She turned to the sheriff after scribbling something on a notepad taken from her purse. "Sheriff, will you check on alibis?" She ripped out the sheet and handed it to him.

"What do you have in mind, Judge?" Sheriff Bumpus asked, scratching his head. "You sound like you got this murder business sewed up."

"Not yet, no. Anything of interest on Lily's phone log?"

"We got the numbers traced, but what does it mean if these people she lived among called her? Nothing. I don't call that helpful information."

Baby nodded. "Yes, I see the problem. Too many social engagements with the entire clique concerned, it seems."

"This looks like a tough one to crack," the sheriff said, gloomily.

"We just need to make sure we've got the one with the strongest motive. Then we'll have to go after the proof, forensically, or if that's not possible, we might have to do a bluff for a confession." She turned to Randy Le Jeune. "Let me know if you can pretty well assure us that the weapon used is the same one used on Lily or if you find any other evidence" He agreed.

She then nodded goodbye to the sheriff and left the shop with Lonnie and Dolores to pick up some personal things from Lonnie's house.

In the car, Dolores questioned her again. "Who are on the list, Judge? I expect Richard Denton and Grant King, but who else?"

"Yes, Denton and King. I plan to have a little chat with Bobbi Lou Denton to see if she really did know of the affair–if not, then that moves her husband up a notch. Grant King, well–he may be what he claims, a distant cousin of Lily's husband who's rich enough and has enough family feeling to help a girl out. Or his ties to her might have been darker and more devious."

"And the others?" Lonnie asked from the back seat. He'd gained control of his emotions and was leaning forward eagerly to hear Baby's answers.

"The good doctor DeWitt, of course, who may quickly be cleared as soon as I get the picture and report of Lily's physician from Dallas. And I plan to check further on the club manager, Peter Royal."

"Royal!" exclaimed Lonnie. "How could he possibly be mixed up in this? He and Lily didn't seem to get along much. They dated some when he first came, I know, but that didn't last long. She moved on to greener pastures."

"But what motive would Royal have? Do you know something?" Dolores persisted.

"Nope, not yet, but I have my ideas." Baby looked pensively out the window. "I played bridge with them all, and it was very instructive. Royal was the coolest of players. He seemed to have no emotion whatsoever; pleasant for a partner who was less than competent, but not quite normal, somehow."

Dolores raised her eyebrows. "Normal?" Then she laughed. "I may as well quit probing; you'll tell us when you're ready. I am interested to know," she went on, "why you haven't considered Rick Jarrett? He and Lily had something going, didn't you say? He may have been her last lover."

Baby nodded. "Yes, and I think they might have been pretty well matched. No strings, strictly for fun and games. That would have suited them. Jarrett had little to lose in having an affair with Lily. I can't see him as a suspect–yet. And we mustn't forget Lily's ex, either."

After retrieving Lonnie's gear, they entered the coolness of Lily's house, Lonnie and Dolores visibly relaxing. Baby was not relaxed. She was more keen now than ever. It was always this way, her juices rising as the hunt accelerated. But she mustn't anticipate, not yet. She, too, needed to relax for a while, conserve her energies.

They settled on the lanai with iced tea and some sandwiches Dolores made up. Baby ate quickly and then asked their guest, "Lonnie, it's very important to know exactly what Daniel told you that Lily had said before he went on his trip. It must have been startling or confusing enough for him to remember and want to tell me."

"I've been thinking about that. When he heard she'd been killed, of course, he was devastated. I tried to comfort him as best I could, but he wanted to know all about it. Then he said something about her telling him she was afraid."

"That's the exact word he mentioned–afraid?"

Lonnie nodded. "I'm almost sure–afraid, frightened. At least I got that impression. He said he questioned her, since that didn't seem like Lily at all. One of the things everyone liked about her was her spirit. She seemed indomitable, courageous."

"That was Lily," interjected Dolores. "Foolishly so, I think. Did she tell him what or who she was afraid of?"

Lonnie slowly shook his head as he pondered. "All I remember is he said she was worried that someone's past was catching up with them."

"Any indication it was recent past or distant past?" asked Baby.

"I think he said that . . ." He paused and thought a moment. "I believe he said he'd been sailing too close to the wind."

"The blackmail," Baby said to Dolores, who nodded. "Go on, what else?"

"I wish I could tell you his exact words, but I was more troubled about Daniel's grief, frankly. He muttered something about financial troubles, Lily's, I mean, and," he looked at Baby, "he said 'the goose laid an egg and it wasn't golden after all,' or something like that. I remember the goose business."

"Interesting." She rose from her chair. "I need to call my brother; he can do something for me, too."

"I think I'll take a walk on the beach," Lonnie said. "I need to clear my head and I think the sea would help." Then he stopped and turned to Baby. "I just remembered that Daniel said something about us being hurt, but I assumed he meant losing Lily as a friend. Could he have meant our shop, maybe? I'm not sure, now."

"It's possible he was referring to your business. Think about it some more."

Daniel agreed to ponder his last conversations with his former partner and left the house, Baby reminding him to stick close to the houses and not go anywhere with anyone.

At the phone, she was thankful to catch Son in, resting after an early golf game and lunch. "I need your help, Son. You're on the board of the club, aren't you? Can you get a couple of things for me, records, actually?"

In a few minutes, she returned to the lanai. "I'm going to see if I can meet Mrs. Denton somewhere for a little chat later on, but right now I'm going to take a little nap."

Chapter 19

Baby was awakened from her nap by the phone. She rolled over and snatched up the receiver before Dolores could answer it from the other phone. The sheriff was calling to report that from his initial inquiries Denton was unaccounted for, but both Peter Royal and Grant King had been at the club, Royal at his duties, King playing cards all afternoon, though the game hadn't started until after Daniel had been killed. The doctor didn't seem to be on the island.

Baby thanked him and then dialed a number she found in the directory. Yes, Bobbi Lou would be happy to speak with Judge Godbold, and yes, she was alone, Richard wasn't home. Why do you ask? Baby explained it was a personal matter. Maybe it would be best to meet at the little café in an hour. Maybe the club would be better, Bobbi Lou suggested. The café was a hole. Baby told Dolores she'd be gone for several hours and set off in Lily's car for the club lounge, the more intimate room where they'd agreed to meet. She could only hope they wouldn't run into Richard Denton. The club was obviously the favorite hang-out for the island's elite.

The lounge had an atmosphere very different from the open, glassy expanses of the dining room; it was designed, obviously, to resemble a London club with leather armchairs around low tables. Bobbi Lou was seated at a grouping in the corner and waved as Baby entered the dimly lit room. She smiled and sank onto the chair, giving her order of a diet drink to the alert waiter. He'd accosted her before she could properly greet her companion, who had something in a tall glass in front of her.

Once Baby was served, she looked directly at Bobbi Lou, whose nose seemed even longer and more disdainful today. "I know you're curious why I wanted to speak with you alone. I am investigating, unofficially but with the sheriff's blessing, Lily's murder, and I'm trying to get a clearer picture of her and her associations. I know from our earlier conversation that you knew she was–ah, fond of men. What else did you think about her?"

Bobbi Lou took a sip from her drink. "Really, I can't imagine what I could say that would help you. But if you must know, I couldn't stand her." She raised an eyebrow. "I hope that doesn't incriminate me."

Baby waved aside her concern. "No, be assured I'm not looking to you as a possible suspect. But I am curious as to your opinion of her. She had friends, and it's quite clear, enemies or at least one enemy. But of course, someone who didn't like her didn't necessarily kill her. The motive, I believe, arose out of fear."

"Fear? Of Lily?" She gave a brittle laugh. "I don't see that."

"We don't know the motive right now. I'm curious, though, why you couldn't stand her. This may be very important."

"I doubt it. Lily was a little home wrecker, if you know what I mean."

"She tried to wreck your home?"

Bobbi Lou lifted her head and seemed to look past Baby with unseeing eyes. "Oh, yes, she tried, but it came to nothing, thanks to my sensible husband."

"He told you about it?"

She drank rather more deeply now from the glass. "That tastes good. It's so hot outside. Of course, Richard told me. Wives are always the last to know, but he wanted to clear his conscience. Isn't that stupid? It took me some time to get over it, but divorce wasn't in my plans, and as he said, it was nothing but a foolish fling. I blamed her more than Richard. Men are so weak, don't you know."

Baby nodded, "Some are, but so are some women." She shifted uncomfortably in her seat; the back of the bench was cushioned deeply, but it hit her in the wrong spot. "Tell me, have you heard about Daniel Martin's death? You do know him?"

"Daniel dead?" Her eyes widened. "Yes, everybody knows the little pansy. What happened to him?"

"Murdered not four hours ago. I expect Sheriff Bumpus will be calling on your husband to see where he was at the time."

"The sheriff did call a little before you phoned. Daniel murdered. How awful! But why would the sheriff want Richard? Don't tell me he's a suspect?"

"No, not really, but there's obviously a connection between the two murders and anyone who had a relationship with Lily would be suspect, wouldn't he?"

"Richard had his usual golf game, and he was here at the club eating a bite of lunch. Then he called to say he was taking the car to the garage for new spark plugs."

"Chip Stanley's place?"

Bobbi Lou nodded. "There's a little garage there and Chip's not a very talented mechanic, but he can do simple repairs, tires, that sort of thing. I expected Richard to have been home earlier, but he may have gone down to the wharf to work on his boat." Baby knew the Dentons lived on the golf course and so had to use the club facilities to dock their boat.

"I see. As far as you know then, that's his alibi."

"Alibi! How ridiculous! He certainly would have no reason to murder anyone, let alone poor Daniel, a very sweet person–totally harmless." She began to look angry, her mouth straight and hard.

"This is very routine, and you shouldn't read too much into it."

Baby rummaged in her handbag and handed Bobbi Lou five dollars. "For the drink. I appreciate so much your; meeting with me."

"I don't see what I said that could be helpful, but I hope it clears up matters." She pushed the money back across the table. "Let me treat you. We have to spend a certain amount on food and drink anyway as part of our dues."

Baby left the club resolved to check on Denton a little more closely. She felt he was not involved in the murders, but it would be helpful to eliminate him completely. The driveway to the club dock was gravel, and a row of pines had been planted to obscure the boat houses and wooden piers that jutted out from the land. Before she came to a stop in the turnaround, she saw two men looking at a sleek wooden Chris Craft, an antique by boating standards. One was Richard Denton, the other Frank Penworthy.

"Hello, Judge," Penworthy called out.

"I didn't know this place was here," Baby said, walking slowly toward them. "I'm just exploring." She looked over at the boat. "Nice. Is it yours?" she asked Denton.

"That's my baby. Frank has been helping me restore her. I didn't know much about it."

"That's great. Have you guys been at it all afternoon? You look as if you've finished up."

Frank looked at his watch. "I've got to get going. Mavis will have dinner ready in an hour. Yes, we've been hard at it for almost four hours. But I enjoy it, especially when the product comes out so beautifully."

"It looks almost completely redone," Baby commented. The varnish gleamed on the wooden hull and the leather seats were perfect.

"Just a few finishing touches and I can take her out." Denton looked fondly at the boat.

Baby left with Penworthy, and as they climbed into their respective cars, she decided not to bother checking with Chip Stanley at the Quik Stop. He had neither the means nor the temperament to do these deeds, of that she was quite sure. Now Richard Denton was off her list.

Chapter 20

That evening at dinner, Lonnie told of his call to Daniel's parents in Baton Rouge and the necessary arrangements they would be making for the funeral once the coroner had completed his tasks. He then looked at Baby and said, "I wondered about something you said earlier–about Rick Jarrett."

"Yes?"

"It's–well, not something generally known, but for a short time he experimented with the gay lifestyle." He gave a slight smile.

"He's homosexual, you mean?"

Lonnie frowned. "I'm not sure what he prefers, really. Daniel had run into him in Mobile several years before we hooked up. Jarrett was very careful about the affair, being a high powered attorney. But Daniel said Rick gave it up as too risky for his ambitions in life. Even in such a cosmopolitan center such as Atlanta, and with more acceptance of that life, any hint of that affair would ruin him as far as a prominent political career."

"I understand. He might have found his sexual orientation considered to be more newsworthy than his skills at governing. So was anyone else on the island aware of this personal information to your knowledge?"

"He didn't think so, according to Daniel. He seemed to take great pains to date lots of different women. It gave him the reputation he wanted." He rose from his chair and smiled at the women. "I'd like to go to my room and read for a while, if you don't mind. This has been an extremely upsetting day for me."

The women murmured their sympathy and excused him.

Baby spooned up the last of her chocolate pudding and gave Dolores a look. "This puts everything in a different light, doesn't it?"

"It certainly does," Dolores agreed. "Now he doesn't seem quite so innocuous, particularly if Lily somehow found out."

Judge Godbold sighed. "I guess I'd better make an appointment to see him. I hope he's still in town. I understand he comes and goes fairly frequently."

But before dialing his number from the phone in her room, Baby looked up the number of the mainland morgue and was told Randy Le Jeune was "in autopsy" by the chirpy Mary Lee.

"Will you give him a message from me, please? Tell him to keep the victim's clothes isolated so Dolores can check them out tomorrow." Any residual particles that could be found might prove interesting.

Baby put down the receiver thoughtfully. She felt momentarily confused by the revelation from Lonnie about Rick Jarrett's sex life. Lily hadn't seemed the type that would use that kind of information against anyone, knowing her friendship with Daniel, even to supplement an obviously hungry budget. Could the information really be true? Or was this a red herring supplied by Lonnie as some sort of a cover. But a cover for what? And it did fit with someone's past catching up with them. But that was from Lonnie, too, with no way to prove Lily had actually said that to Daniel.

She stared out the window watching waves pile against the low dock that jutted out from the beach. That was the area where the unlucky Lily was killed, nearly in front of the assemblage of neighbors–a risky move by the killer. But the water was useful for cleaning up as well as masking sounds. Did he go back in to the party? Or was he one of the absent ones? Who was not there? Lonnie and Daniel, of course. Rick Jarrett. But Rick had supposedly been not on the island at all. Then again, that would have been unprovable with his boat able to transport him hither and yon without anyone being the wiser.

She dialed his number and was gratified to hear the smooth bass tones that were so mesmerizing to juries. Her request for a meeting tomorrow afternoon was graciously granted, and she hung up the phone glad to have accomplished her purpose but still strangely dissatisfied.

The next morning, they drove Lonnie to his home, where despite his request to stay, Baby allowed him only to gather up things he'd missed bringing the day before.

"I can't think anyone would be after me," he said plaintively. "I don't know anything!"

"But someone may think you do because of your closeness to Daniel, don't you see?"

Grumbling a little, Lonnie promised he'd do his household chores and be ready to be picked up in a couple of hours. The two women had to wait only a few minutes for the ferry that was steaming over from the mainland.

At the morgue, they checked with Mary Lee, who directed them to the lab, where the bundle of clothing from the victim was waiting for Dolores's inspection. Randy Le Jeune was not in this morning, busy seeing patients at his own medical practice.

While Dolores readied the instruments, Baby wandered around the room, checking out charts and other rather foreign accouterments of the pathologist's trade. After a visual examination, Dolores declared she thought Daniel's shirt would be the most informative.

"It's the item that would obtain the most evidence of spilled hairs, fibers, that sort of thing." She proceeded to give a minute inspection to the garment, a dark blue knit with blood dried down its front.

"I'm going to take blood samples at different spots, to make sure the killer didn't cut himself in the struggle."

"Wasn't Daniel taken by surprise?"

"He may have been, but death was probably not instantaneous. I noticed Daniel's hands had blood on them, which could mean he tried to wrest the knife from the killer."

After a time, with Baby looking on, Dolores put some fibers and a hair obtained by the use of a tape into plastic bags. "These might help us. I think the hair, however, is like Daniel's. The fibers could be from the cardboard boxes he was unpacking or from someone's clothing in a struggle. I've been looking with particular interest at the back of the shirt, where the killer might have rubbed up against Daniel in the attack."

"I see. When can we expect to get information about these items?"

"I'll–that is, Randy said he'd get them sent off to the lab for analysis today if possible. Probably next week then." She groaned a little. "I'm so overdue at work it's not funny. And I still have to have the memorial service for Lily. I'm forgetting my sisterly duties in my sleuthing."

"I think it's very sisterly to try to find her killer."

"I suppose so, but while you're interviewing Rick Jarrett, I intend to take care of Lily's final arrangements. I think a service next Monday–at the club?"

Baby nodded. "The only gathering place on the island, if you want to keep it local."

"Well, Mobile is out and so is Dallas. Lily's been away too long. I'll take her ashes to Dallas and bury her in the family plot. I need to verify the date with the cemetery office too."

"By the way," Baby said in a cautioning tone, "it would be best if you kept mum about your investigations–to everyone. At this point, we don't know for sure who is friend or foe, and I'd rather everyone think you're merely an interested family member. Also, I'd rather nothing was said to Lonnie about my little visit to Rick Jarrett this afternoon."

Dolores nodded. "It seems hard to believe that we're dealing with someone nearby who is desperate enough to kill. But I'll remember to play it cool. How about you? Aren't you afraid, being so up front with your inquiries?"

Baby shrugged. "I think I can take care of myself. That comes from having a very suspicious mind."

They stopped in front of Lonnie's house and honked the horn. Lonnie opened the front door, carrying only a small bag and several garments covered by dry cleaner plastic bags.

"Got everything?" Judge Godbold asked.

"Enough for a couple of days, surely," he said, settling into the back seat. "I also talked to Daniel's parents again, and they're coming to pick up his body tomorrow. The funeral will be next week in Mobile."

At Lily's house, after Lonnie put away his things in the spare room, they busied themselves in the kitchen throwing together a simple lunch of soup and sandwiches. Baby plopped ice cubes in tall glasses and poured tea from the large ceramic pitcher they'd been surprised to find in a cupboard. Lily's kitchen had not been the best equipped in the world.

After a brief rest in her room, Baby freshened up her appearance and called out to Dolores, who was watching TV on the lanai, that she was leaving. She had not seen Jarrett's house, but he'd given her explicit directions, and she found the place with his number on the mailbox without any difficulty. It was on the other side of the country club, set well back with a neat little inlet for his large boat. The house was ultra modern with a high peak of glass and rambling "hyphens" on either side that led to a garage and to a lanai. Jarrett greeted her at the door cordially. He was looking scruffier than usual with dirty khaki shorts and striped t-shirt.

"I apologize for my appearance," he said, leading her through the hallway into the living room, which gave onto a spectacular view of the Gulf . "I was cleaning up my boat and just got back to the house."

"I don't mind if you don't." Actually, he looked rather more charming than usual, more boyish and less predatory.

"Good. Can I get you a drink?"

"Something soft, maybe a lemonade or diet drink or something? I don't know why some of us who need to do much more than diet drinks insist on them when we willingly eat rich gravies and desserts."

"We all like to think we're in control of something, don't you think?"

"Yes, I do. That's a very sound analysis."

"I, like you, have to be as clear and logical as possible in attributing motives so I can defend a client successfully. I suppose we get into that mental habit for everything, including inconsequential matters."

"I'm flattered you include me in using your technique. In fact, I'm partial to relying on intuition and knowledge of human character to define motive. Logic is well and good, but the cleverest criminal can put together an almost faultless defense and unbreakable alibi that logic can't penetrate."

Jarrett left the room momentarily, laughing and calling over his shoulder. "Don't tell me about women's intuition. I've run up against that too many times in my career, particularly from female prosecutors."

Judge Godbold looked around the room while he fixed her drink in the kitchen. It was sparsely but expensively furnished, with unusual artwork on the walls and sculptures and objet d'art placed strategically on clean-line furniture pieces.

"But I don't think," he continued, coming back with two glasses, "that prosecutors who get off the track are very successful. Attorneys have to present material as logically and orderly as possible, don't you think?" He handed her the soft drink after she had seated herself in a more upright chair.

His habit of checking her views as he pronounced his own was disarming. "Yes, of course. Let's take Lily's death for instance." Might as well not waste any more time. She really wasn't interested in a discussion of the mental properties of attorneys.

"What about it? Are you disappointed with the local law enforcement efforts?" He had a dismissive smile on his handsome face.

"I hardly concern myself with the sheriff's efforts. I'm making my own, as you know. But killers may be illogical too, and maybe gut feelings will get closer to the truth in this matter than any step by step analysis."

"So what has your gut told you?"

Damn! He was leading this discussion, no matter how she tried to exert herself. She took a sip of what was delicious lime-aid. "I also use my brain, Mr. Jarrett. And I know several things about Lily–one of which is that you dated her. Tell me about your–romance."

His look never wavered from her face. "There's not much to tell. We went out a few times, but I hadn't seen her on a personal basis for several months."

"Whose decision was that?"

Suddenly, he looked flustered. "I, well, that is, I guess we both mutually, that is, decided it was not too successful. I quit calling her, and we went our separate ways."

Baby hesitated a long moment, looking down at her drink. "I wonder if I need to remind you that like you I am accustomed to keeping confidences. That I don't necessarily share everything if it's not pertinent with the sheriff. In light of that, can you explain a little more fully your relationship with women?"

His head shot around and he gave her a perplexed look. "I don't see what that has to do with anything, but I don't mind telling you. I date different women. I guess I think of myself as a confirmed bachelor since I've never succumbed to marriage. An old priest I once knew said that besides his calling, he chose his life not because he didn't like women but because he liked too many of them at the same time. Maybe that's the way I am. I can't imagine spending one's life with the same person–always there. No." He shook his head wonderingly.

"Hmmm." The judge gave him a thoughtful look.

"You don't approve? Believe me, Lily and I parted amicably. I didn't break her heart, nor she mine. I suppose we both had too much ego for it to last long. We tended to compete for attention. At least, that's my logic. What's your intuition?"

"I believe you." And she did. Oh, he was good at turning things to suit him, but he didn't protest too much or make more of his womanizing than was believable. She got up to leave. "Let me know if you can think of anything that would help us in the investigation. You may not have seen much of Lily lately, but you could have heard something, rumors that might lead to something."

"I will, Judge. At the moment nothing comes to mind, other than the speculation on Lily's finances, which were rife. No one knew quite how she managed, considering I understood her ex was maybe hurting financially and she apparently didn't come from money."

"Yes, that's an interesting point and one I'm checking out." She gave him her hand. "I appreciate your candor about you and Lily." Then she turned back to face him. "One other thing. Where were you during the hours of 11:00 a.m. to 1:00 p.m. on Thursday?"

If he'd been surprised by her abrupt inquiry, his face didn't show it. "In my boat. I went out for a sail about ten and didn't return until well after 2:00."

"Anyone see you?"

He shrugged. "I saw a few other boaters, but I didn't pay much attention to them. I went quite a way out into the Gulf. A beautiful day for it."

He walked her to the door. "Back to Lily's death. I've tried to figure out why she was killed. No lover comes to mind."

"I think it might be more complicated than that." She stopped. "By the way, have you heard about Daniel Martin's murder?"

"Yes, shocking news. Almost unbelievable. I guess you gave me the suspected time of his death. Do you have any clues as to the reason?"

"Not yet. That's partly why I wanted to talk to you. He and Lily were good friends, you know."

"I knew that. But no, I can't imagine what the two murders have in common."

"What about you and Daniel?"

"I don't know what you mean. I've purchased a number of items from the shop, and he's found some pieces I'd been looking for, but he was a merchant, I was a customer."

"I see," Baby said with a pleasant smile. "I think it's important that we get everybody's relationship squared away since murder is involved." Baby stood up to leave.

"Well," she said, "it will all come out eventually, that I know."

She sighed as she drove off. The homosexual-blackmail might be the problem. So what about Lonnie's story. A jealousy thing about Lily, maybe. But that didn't square with Jarrett's own description of the relationship. Why was Daniel killed? Was that the significant murder, with Lily's murder merely cleaning up collateral damage? If only Baby could have talked to the poor man before he was killed, but that was obviously the reason for the murder. Daniel had just gotten back into town, so the killer must have been lying in wait.

When she arrived at Lily's, she went immediately to her room and dialed the Sheriff's Office.

"Any faxes come in for me?" she asked the secretary, after identifying herself.

The answer was positive. She told the woman she'd be over as soon as the next ferry left. Checking her watch, she realized she'd have to hurry, so calling out a hasty goodbye to Dolores and Lonnie, who were both now on the lanai and looking at her in astonishment, she piled again into the car. At least now maybe she could positively eliminate someone or identify him.

Chapter 21

Baby couldn't wait to examine the documents and satisfy her deep suspicions, but first she had to wait at the dock to get on the ferry to the mainland. After arriving at the Sheriff's Office, she was given the faxed copy, which was a bit rough, but she thought that the picture showing the doctor convicted of criminal charges could be a much younger Dr. DeWitt. She wasn't as surprised as she might have been, given the doctor's murky background, his aloneness. But how ironic that a chance decision to take up residence on the small island would bring the doctor into contact with one of his victims.

If fate had brought together Lily and DeWitt or John Davis Carlson, as the rap sheet indicated, then it was expedient for the now respectable doctor to cover up his past as closely as possible. He could have tried to buy her off, but Lily's greed and expensive tastes had gotten her in deeper and deeper to blackmail and outright extortion. Eventually, the pressure had gotten to Carlson, who seemed to have a conveniently forgetful conscience about the lives he'd ruined. He'd killed at least three women in Dallas and butchered even more, Lily included, so they could never have children.

Baby shook her head, getting onto the ferry. It was one thing to connect the doctor, whose identity, if her judgment was correct, could easily be proved with a fingerprint i.d., and Lily. It was quite another thing to prove his culpability in the murders. What did they have so far? A bit of material under the fingernails. Possibly that could be helpful; the sophisticated forensic equipment and tests of the FBI could, according to Dolores, prove ownership by determining fiber origins and even dye lots. That would be great, if Dolores had found enough of the fiber for an accurate test.

But a search of someone's wardrobe would take a warrant, which required substantive cause, which they didn't have. Then there was the murder weapon. The same weapon for both murders and maybe even part of the doctor's equipment. Again it might be obtained through a search warrant and tests performed on it to find traces of blood if he had kept it, but how likely was that? He might have disposed of it. And then there was motive. What possible connection could DeWitt have to Daniel? Had Lily shared her own history with the antiques dealer? Unlikely, still . . . .

She continued to be thoughtful as she drove back to the house. Still much to do, and it needed to be done in a rational, orderly fashion. She must notify the sheriff quickly so he could get more information on Carlson and compare the facts with DeWitt. DeWitt, if he was Carlson, was clever and bold. When threatened, he would strike out. Witness the well timed execution of Daniel–a public facility where anyone might have seen his car or him exiting the place. Could he be tempted into another try to silence a perceived threat? She sped quickly down the road. Lonnie–maybe Dolores, would be in danger, and unsuspecting of DeWitt.

Back at the house, while dialing the Sheriff's Office, she considered how much information to impart to Dolores and Lonnie. She had no proof as yet that DeWitt was the guilty party, although except for Jarrett, she'd pretty well eliminated everyone else she'd suspected from alibi alone. Yet, without knowledge of her suspicions, either of them could be in real danger. She decided on a cautious route that simply named DeWitt as her chief suspect. Sheriff Bumpus agreed to pursue the tenuous case against the good doctor–comparing fingerprints and getting warrant to search for the weapon, but it would be Monday, he bet, before he could serve it.

"That's late if he's the guilty one. I've got two people here who the killer may believe have some knowledge of his crimes. Also, I'll find a way to get his fingerprints and pass the item on to you."

"You're putting yourself in considerable danger too, Judge," the sheriff commented dryly.

"I can take care of myself, but I can't be on guard for the others every minute."

"What do you suggest?"

"Since you couldn't find the doctor to determine an alibi this afternoon, let's both keep quiet about my suspicions until we know his identity or you serve the warrant. I have a feeling he'll be at the dance tomorrow night and so will we."

"You be careful, now. I don't want another mess out there."

"I will. And, Sheriff, you will call me as soon as you get confirmation?"

When she joined Dolores and Lonnie and told them of her idea about DeWitt, they agreed the resemblance from the faxed photo was a possibility, though not foolproof.

"Have you told the sheriff?"

"I called him just now. He'll be getting a search warrant issued and I intend to somehow get something with his fingerprints so he can be identified as a first step. But until then, we must act when we see the doctor as if we suspect nothing. Our big task is to be careful so we can eventually link him up with the crimes. Even with a warrant to search for the weapon, he may have disposed of it, you know."

"But if we suspect him, we can also get any of his linen trousers and compare them to the threads I found."

"Exactly. But until then, we must do nothing to alert him to danger. That shouldn't be too difficult. It's been my experience that these cold blooded killers are supreme egoists, and always believe they can get away with murder." She gave a lame smile at the rather grim joke.

She had sounded confident of DeWitt's guilt, but she wasn't as sure as all that. The photograph, fuzzy and of a much younger man, might be misleading her. And then there was something else that she couldn't take for granted. The sheriff's less than careful checking of alibis. She sighed. This was yet another task she had to do for herself.

Her doubts continued to assail her long after she'd gone to bed. She went over and over the possibilities and began to suspect her too immediate acceptance of Dr. DeWitt being the criminal. Wasn't it too much of a coincidence that he and Lily should both turn up on this small island? No, she couldn't assume, within reason, that DeWitt was their man. For one thing, she needed to come up with a plan to capture his fingerprints so the sheriff's office could compare them to Carlson's. She'd worry about that tomorrow. He appeared to have an alibi, but even if he'd been off the island for several days, that meant nothing with boats available all along the coastline. And would he be back for the dance? Probably. It was one of the social events of the summer season.

Other shaky alibis would bear more scrutiny. Peter Royal was supposed to have been at the country club all day, which was expected of the club manager. But how easy it would be for him to slip out during the busy lunch hour and return after cleaning up at his home with no one the wiser. Everyone would assume he'd merely been at some other station at the club.

And Grant King, who didn't claim, according to the sheriff's report, to have eaten lunch at the club, had played golf in the morning and cards later in the afternoon. Where was he during the crucial time? Had he been at home? Was his wife there to provide an alibi for him? Baby sighed. The sheriff and his deputy cleared him but they were out of their element, it was clear. She had an inkling of sympathy for the lawmen, though, knowing how rare their experience must be in such dire matters where details were of supreme importance.

She wondered if she could glean anymore information at the dance tomorrow. Midsummer Madness Ball. Yes, madness was the word for it. In the meantime, Lonnie was clamoring to return home, which she admitted was a natural inclination. Should she allow that on Sunday even if she were no further in the investigation? The killer had struck within minutes after Daniel's return from his trip, but he couldn't be sure that Daniel wouldn't have made some telling remarks to Lonnie after hearing about Lily's death. Which, in fact, he had. Lily had said something about her past catching up with her. But the question remained. How long past?

Baby rolled over onto her left side and purposely switched mental gears. She thought about what she was to wear to the dance. She loved clothes and interesting accessories and had always taken refuge from pressing problems by thinking about more frivolous matters of self-adornment. Even with her age and size, she knew that "the apparel oft proclaims the man" or woman as the case may be. Did she want to wear the set of smoky blue Majorica pearls or accent her gown with silver. . . .

Chapter 22

Mary Rose gasped with pleasure at the transformed room at the club while Baby murmured appreciatively. "My, my, the decorating committee members have outdone themselves." The large dining room had been cleared of many of the tables, while the rest ranged along the perimeter. Garlands of tropical flowers and palm branches festooned the chandeliers and draped from one corner of the room to the other. Each table had a centerpiece of white and purple orchids, which were removable as corsages for the women. At one end, the band was warming up the crowd with a high spirited rendition of the 60's hit, "All I Do Is Dream of You."

The Godbolds were hailed by several groups to join them at their table, but Baby had already alerted Son to try to find DeWitt and settle, if not at his table, then as nearby as possible. They saw the Dentons and DeWitt in a far corner near the vast windows overlooking the golf course. Esther Levine was just sitting down near the doctor, but as it was a table for ten several more places remained. Baby strolled toward the table and sat down on the other side of Esther. Son and Mary Rose sat beside Bobbi Lou Denton, tilting a couple of chairs forward to save places for Randy Le Jeune and Dolores, who was picking him up at the ferry.

"Are you a dancer?" Baby asked Esther, who was looking stunning in a pink and violet chiffon gown. Her silvery hair was upswept as high as its short length would go. Baby's own hair had been expertly waved and fluffed to a becoming fullness at Jean's Hair House, along with the heads of every other woman who had had the foresight to make an appointment months ahead. Her own appointment she could credit to her sister-in-law, far thinking in such matters.

"I am if I can find a partner," the older woman answered. She laughed. "I can't complain, though, since Rory takes pity on me and fills my program." She smiled at the doctor.

"Esther is a great dancer," he said to . "She learned during the years when people actually paid attention to their feet. After the twist, it was never the same."

"How true," Baby agreed fervently. "My late husband would never take lessons, and he said he had no rhythm, but we did pretty well despite his handicaps. I suppose he tried hard to please me."

Within minutes Randy and Dolores arrived with Dolores causing a sensation in her gown, looking so much like her sister. Soon the table began to resemble a slow action kaleidoscope with couples moving out onto the floor and others moving to sit closer to someone else, then couples returning and changing partners for another dance. Baby found herself dancing with Rory DeWitt, who proved to be smooth and accomplished on the dance floor. He was a bit shorter than Baby, but his expert guiding made her feel young and graceful again. She complimented him on his prowess.

"I'm a rare man, I suppose, liking to dance, but believe it or not, I couldn't do even the two-step until just before I moved here. I decided to take lessons and this is the result."

"Money well spent," Baby said. She was beginning to enjoy herself. What a kick it would be to tell the story in years to come of dancing with a murderer–if in fact that's what DeWitt proved to be. She'd finally settled on a plan to retrieve his fingerprints. In her bag, she carried a large silver-plated compact. With Son's help and set of eye glasses tools, they had removed the hinge pins. Baby had polished the metal and carefully slipped the compact into its felt holder before fitting it into her evening bag.

Back at the table, now sitting next to DeWitt, she took out the compact by the edges and opened it. The top fell onto the table and she cried with dismay, "Oh, darn it, my compact broke!" Not many men, she knew, could resist trying to fix something that was broken, and true to form, DeWitt reached over to take both parts into his own hands.

He looked over the hinges carefully and announced, "Sorry, but you seem to have lost the pins. Probably worked out. A jeweler could fix that easily."

Baby nodded and murmured her thanks. She held out her open bag and he dropped the two parts into it with care. She was to meet the deputy in the parking lot at ten o'clock so he could get the prints to the sheriff's office. Both he and Sheriff Bumpus were somewhat annoyed of her insistence on ruining their weekend.

Occasionally, other couples stopped by their table, and at one point during the evening Baby found herself next to Grant King. His wife, Florence, was speaking to Mary Rose about plans for the next bridge party, so King turned to Baby and complimented her on her dress.

"Oh, this old thing," she laughed. "Thanks. It's fun to dress up again as if I was a debutante. Not that I resemble one, of course."

"In a sense this is your debut. A formal party where everyone gets a look at you."

"Oh, dear." She looked around with a mock fearful glance. "Everyone? I shouldn't think I'd conjure up that much interest."

"People are fascinated by you and your career, Judge. I know I am. I happened to overhear Sheriff Bumpus talking to Ravens about your reputation. He was smoothing ruffled feathers, I think."

"That I was supplanting the deputy in his duties?" She smiled. "Not in the least. My efforts in what seems to be a burgeoning crime wave are in the amateur category, believe me."

"Only amateurish in the 'not for pay' capacity, I'll warrant," King remarked drily. "Have you, speaking of crimes, come to any conclusions about who is doing these terrible things–and why?"

She gave him a steady look. "I have my ideas, but they're not for publication. Motive, means, and opportunity–the criminal's triumvirate. You, for instance, might fit into all three."

"Me!" King looked genuinely shocked. "You must be kidding. I certainly had no motive. I was a friend to Lily and I hardly knew the little antique guy."

"Reasonable at first glance. But you don't exactly have the best alibi, do you–for Daniel's time of death, I mean." She was still smiling, but her eyes took in every nuance of his expression.

"It must have been a bloody crime. I could hardly have gone home for lunch and somehow been unobserved by my wife while I disposed of the tell-tale clothes, not to mention the weapon."

"It's been done," she said. "I've found that murderers are extremely cagey about covering their tracks. Not that I'm accusing you, of course. It's all hypothetical at this point."

"Sure, sure." He gave her an appraising look. "You're a cool one, all right." Then he looked at his wife, who was still deep in conversation with Mary Rose.

"They won't let up for a while. Why don't we hit the floor, Judge?" And sweeping her into his arms, they moved swiftly off to the strains of "Moon River."

Again, Baby was struck by the thought of dancing with a suspect; he held her fast and danced slightly off the beat. Once or twice he stepped on her toes, but he didn't seem to notice and finished the dance with a dip that nearly broke her back. Puffing a little, she thanked him and hobbled back to the table.

After refreshments and more dancing now with her brother, Baby checked her watch and saw it was nearly time for the rendevous with Ravens. Excusing herself to go to the ladies' room she walked away from the table and through the foyer, hoping she would be unobserved when she exited the club. The way seemed clear; early enough that people had not yet begun to leave, the evening far enough gone to miss late arrivals. Ravens' patrol car was behind the first row of cars in a No Parking zone. She went to the driver's window and opened her purse.

"I brought a plastic bag to put this in, but I didn't have a chance to do it inside. Let's be very careful not to smudge the prints." He held the bag open while she picked up the two halves and dumped them into the bag.

"I'll want a report as soon as the sheriff has the results," she cautioned.

"Sure enough," the deputy drawled. "I reckon he knows by now not to keep you waiting." He drove off with a squealing of tires she thought unnecessary.

The rest of the evening was anticlimactic, except when they were getting ready to leave around midnight. In the crush of people leaving, she again found herself next to Grant King who turned to her with a cold look and said, "I hope I'm off your bad list by now, Judge."

She raised an eyebrow. "Bad list? I don't keep such things–unless I know that someone's been a bad boy. Have you?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," he sneered.

She was so taken aback by his tone she couldn't think of a reply, but then the crowd surging forward separated them. Disturbing, that palpable dislike in his voice and in his eyes. What brought it on? Their earlier conversation? The hubris that swelled his head in such an obvious fashion? Maybe his alibi really was a crock.

Dolores and Randy were waiting outside the door of the club and went up to her when she emerged. "I'm running Randy over to the ferry. The last one leaves in thirty minutes."

"Fine. I'll catch a ride with my brother and meet you at home. I've got a key if Lonnie has gone to bed."

She felt a little jittery after being dropped off by Son and Mary Rose, who waited while she unlocked the door and stepped inside. Lonnie still seemed vulnerable to her, and she went first to the lanai to see if he was still up. It was vacant, so she stepped around to his room and peered inside the open door. He seemed to be sleeping peacefully. But why not? If the choice of culprit was between DeWitt and King, they were well occupied this evening.

Dolores took the full thirty minutes to see Randy off, and when she let herself in she looked radiant.

"Don't tell me," smiled, "you had a marvelous time. I think Randy monopolized you all evening, but I didn't think you minded much."

Dolores opened her eyes widely. "Was it that obvious? He's a wonderful person. I think your make over of me did the trick, Judge. He seems to like me."

"Makeup and clothes are good for first impressions, but Dr. Randy Le Jeune wouldn't have been fooled for long with appearances. I had an idea you two would make a good pair."

"We're not exactly a pair yet, but he did say he wanted to see me after I returned to Dallas." She gave a deep sigh. "I could very easily get carried away by this and forget my real mission. Have you gotten any further in the investigation?"

"No. I suggested some problems with Grant King's alibi, and he got surly by the end of the evening. The doctor's fingerprints are safely–I hope–in the hands of Deputy Ravens and we should know for sure if he's the butchering doctor from Big D."

"What about the remaining suspect, Peter Royal? I can't imagine why he would want to kill Lily, but he's unaccounted for during the time of Daniel's murder. Did you get a chance to speak to him tonight–or even observe him?"

"No, I didn't. I saw him flying around from table to table, but I was on the dance floor. He supervised the meal, I guess, so he probably was occupied all evening." She shook her head. "What a job! I hope he's not the murderer; I admire his poise."

"But you really don't think he's guilty."

Baby made a dismissive gesture, "No motive that I can see. Little connection with Lily–a few dates. Merely a casual relationship." They were in the kitchen and Dolores indicated a nightcap of camomile tea to which Baby assented.

"I'm thinking we might have accepted Grant King's excuses for paying for Lily's car

too readily. He's been a little too involved. Next week, I intend to call Lily's ex and see what he has to say about his cousin."

"I never heard much about him from Lily, but they were not exactly in the same social set at that time either." Dolores sipped the chamomile tea thoughtfully. "Even if we find Lily either offended King or had something on him, how can we prove it–other than trying to get a search warrant?"

"No," Baby said, "we'd never get him to agree to that. And at this point, all we'd be looking for is a pair of linen pants."

Dolores drained her cup. "It's too complicated for me at this time of night. Bedtime."

"Good idea. I hope I won't have visions of DeWitt and King dancing in my head all night. Getting an i.d. on the doctor's fingerprints may eliminate one possibility."

But again sleep came slowly as her mind whirled in confusing thoughts. Finally, she resolved to speak to Florence King and test her reactions. Maybe that and a conversation with Jim Lawrence would make clearer Grant King's guilt or innocence. She rolled over once more and drifted off.

Chapter 23

The next morning Baby took a chance that Florence King's husband would be at his invariable morning golf game and gave her a call. She was correct. The woman was spending her morning as she usually did–as a golf widow. It was only 9:30, and apologized for her intrusion on a Sunday morning.

"No matter, Judge," Florence answered brightly. "When one leads an idle life like I do, every day is much the same. I seldom have pressing engagements."

The judge didn't want to comment about the role the woman had cut out for herself, so she quickly set up an appointment to see her in one hour. She explained she needed some information for the investigation.

"Whatever for?"

"I'll explain when I get there," Baby promised. She'd already had her breakfast, so she claimed the bathroom first and showered while Lonnie and Dolores read the Sunday papers in their robes. Dolores gladly gave her permission to use Lily's car again, which Baby almost was beginning to think of as for her own use.

The King home had not diminished in grandeur since she'd first approached it for the bridge game. It seemed extravagantly, almost obscenely large for two people on a little island. Florence was waiting for her and opened the door herself. Probably her maid had gone to Mass on the mainland, Baby's speculation confirmed by Florence as they went into a small room off the front hall, ostensibly the "morning room."

A baby grand was in one corner, a rigid, French-styled couch was against the far wall and two graceful chairs were positioned opposite each other. To the right of the door, a tiny secretary strewn with what looked like bills suggested Florence actually used the room. The colors of gold and cream with touches of burgundy suited her golden hair and pale skin, which obviously had been guarded against the punishing rays of the sun. They took seats, Florence in a chair, Baby on the sofa. A tray sat on the tea table, and Baby's hostess offered her a cup of coffee.

"I'm terribly curious what you want to know about my husband's whereabouts. I know you're helping the sheriff in his investigation, of course, but why would you be interested in Grant?" Then she stopped Baby from answering by holding up her hand. "Oh, I know he had a connection to Lily, did things for her and all that, but what does he have to do with Daniel?"

"Maybe nothing. I'm looking into the movements of those who did have a close relationship of one kind or another with Lily. She evidently told Daniel something about fearing for her life before he went on his buying trip the week of her death. He was killed almost the minute he arrived back, with his partner being sent on a mysterious wild goose chase. Let's just say, I'm trying to tie up loose ends."

"Let's see. Daniel was killed last Thursday about what time?"

"The doctor says between 11:30 and 2:00. Coincidentally, Lily's sister and I discovered the body, which hadn't yet grown cold. Can you tell me where your husband was during those crucial hours?"

"Easy. Thursday is the maid's day off, so I like to fix us something myself those days. I made a lobster soufflé, ham wrapped fresh asparagus, and a lemon meringue pie. All Grant's favorites. He got home, I suppose around 11:30 and didn't go back to the club for cards until, maybe, 1:00 or 1:30."

"Did you see him come in?"

She frowned as she thought. "He came through the kitchen from the garage and went up to shower. I saw him, but just a glance."

"He looked normal. He wasn't disheveled, stained with anything suspicious?"

Florence looked shocked. "Like blood? Heavens, no! He looked hot and sweaty, which would be natural after eighteen holes in this heat, but no, he was as usual." Then she added almost truculently, "I didn't find any bloody clothes in the hamper either."

Baby nodded. "All right. I know it's disturbing to have to answer such things, but I'm convinced of your honesty. I was pretty sure myself, but I needed to hear your version." She rose to leave, thanking Florence, who walked her to the door.

"No offense taken, Judge. I know you have a job to do, and Grant's fair game."

On the road back to the house, decided the woman was indeed truthful. Wives have been known before to shield their husbands, but Florence King was no fool. It was one thing to overlook occasional affairs with other women, but collusion with a murderer–no.

When Baby walked in to the kitchen from the garage, Dolores gave her a phone number and said the sheriff called and wanted her to call him immediately.

"News on the fingerprints maybe. I didn't expect such fast work from them."

But the news was different. Baby listened intently, asking only a few pertinent questions before hanging up. She turned to Dolores and Lonnie, who was entering the room.

"Yet another murder, most likely–and one that gives us little clues as to either motive or time of execution."

"Who?" the others asked nearly in unison.

"The constable's daughter. Remember Dody?" she asked Dolores, who gave a silent nod.

"She was supposed to have gone to a friend's on the mainland Thursday. Evidently, she never arrived, but the friend just assumed she'd changed her mind. When she didn't show up yesterday morning, her folks called her friend and then got in touch with the sheriff's office. They thought it might be a runaway situation, but her body was found washed up in the shallows of north shore early this morning by some fishermen."

"The knife again?" Dolores asked.

"Strangely, no. She must have been either strangled or knocked out and drowned. We won't know for sure until after the autopsy."

"My God!" Lonnie exclaimed. His face had gone white. "Where will this end?"

"What possible reason would anyone have to kill her?" Baby pondered, seemingly to herself. "Was this murder connected with the others or not? If not, the coincidence is striking, almost incomprehensible, particularly since it must have taken place in broad daylight. If so, then we might assume the girl had seen something that identified the killer." She sat down heavily.

"Why do you say broad daylight?" Lonnie asked.

"According to the sheriff, she left to go to the ferry at about noon on Thursday."

"The ferry isn't far from her home as the crow flies," Lonnie said thoughtfully. Then he gasped and put his hand to his mouth. "If she cut through the back way, she'd have gone behind our place. It's not far to the north shore from there, only a few hundred yards. There's even an old dock back there."

"Really?" Baby looked at him intently. "Is it much used?"

"Not that I know of," Lonnie answered. "We never had a boat, you know."

"I need to see a map of the island. But it's possible she saw someone leaving your place shortly after the murder. That would explain a lot."

"But you're left with the same problem," Dolores commented. "Alibi. Are your current suspects in the clear?"

"Not quite all. I still don't know about Peter Royal, and I let Rick Jarrett give me a puny alibi. He may have been out on his boat, he may not have. And until we get a confirmation of the doctor's whereabouts as well as the fingerprint match, Rory DeWitt's still a suspect, not to mention Jim Lawrence, who's still on the island."

"Oh, dear," Dolores groaned, "is there no end to this madness? My head's spinning."

Baby smiled and patted her friend's shoulder. "Leave it to me. I've only just begun."

Chapter 24

After Sunday dinner with Mary Rose and Son at the club, Baby excused herself on the way out and veered off into Peter Royal's office. She had seen him at his desk going over what looked like accounts.

"Don't even get Sunday off?" she jokingly asked.

He looked up and gave her a rueful smile. "Afraid not. This is a job for a dedicated man." He rose and offered her a seat next to the desk.

"And a single one, I expect."

"Yes, a wife would soon get jealous of the club as my mistress. What can I do for you, Judge?"

"You may know that I'm helping with the investigation of the deaths on the island, and I'm interested in talking a bit with those men who seemed to have a close relationship with Lily. I think you dated her."

He nodded, looking comfortable and cool-headed. "She was a fun date. We went to the mainland on several occasions. I decided she was too rich for my blood, however, and we parted amicably."

"Too rich how?"

"She liked expensive things and dates, and I'm just a working stiff. Confidentially, Judge, I considered her to be a working girl."

She lifted her chin inquiringly. "You mean she expected to be paid?"

"Not in money, but certainly in other things. She got them, too."

"How do you know that?"

"She was nothing if not frank. Not that she told me who gave her the jewelry, the car, clothes, her membership money for the club even. But get those things she did."

'I'm interested in knowing your whereabouts last Thursday around noon."

"Daniel's murder? I see. Well, you can count me out of that, too. I could never leave this place during the lunch hours between 11:00 and about 1:30. Ask anyone in the kitchen. I have to be johnny-on-the-spot for problems as they arise. And they always do." He furrowed his brow. "Let's see. Thursday. That was fresh tuna and pasta for the specialty. Mrs. Simpkins had her plate too close to the edge of the table and dumped her food into her lap. I, naturally, had to tend to that."

"I can see you're a man of many talents," she said with a smile, rising from her seat. "One other thing. Did you know Lily previously to her coming to the island?"

"Not at all. She was a completely new experience, in more ways than one."

"Thanks for your time. I've found out all I needed to know." She quickly left the office.

Baby climbed into the back seat of Son's car, waiting in front of the club, and gave a sigh. "More problems?" her brother inquired.

"So little to go on. I look for clues that would give away the psychology of Lily's killer and run into dead ends. He's obviously the same one who killed Daniel, and now I suspect he's to blame for Dody Ravens' death."

"I hope it's the same one, Baby," Mary Rose shuddered. "I'd hate to think we were living next to more than one killer."

"It seems to me," Son went on, "your killer has to be someone who must have gotten tired of having his pockets emptied by Lily for blackmail. That's the most evident cause of the murder. Right?"

"Yes, could be. But blackmail for what? If Dr. DeWitt is Lily's former abortionist, then he comes up to the top of the list, except I haven't figured out a connection between him and Daniel Martin. If he's not the perpetrator, I'm back to square one. Peter Royal had a darned good alibi for Daniel's death–not to mention Dody's, which would have taken place almost immediately after Daniel's. Seems too much time for Peter to have been gone from his duties–and he says he can prove it."

"Who else might have a motive?"

"Grant King. He was supplying Lily with a car, he knew her in family–related concerns connected to her former husband. Did she know something about him he couldn't afford to let out? I plan to talk to Jim Lawrence and see if he can shed any more light on Grant King's affairs."

"I thought his alibi cleared him of Daniel and Dody's murders," Mary Rose put in.

"I'm not so sure. Florence indicated his return from golf in a rather loose time frame. She didn't really look at him when he came in either. He might have committed the murder between 11:00 and 12:00 and still have been home in time for lunch. His golf game was over by 10:30, I understand from the golf pro, who checked in the golf cart. He took a while to get home."

"Anyone else?" Son asked, pulling into the carport.

"Rick Jarrett. I have some thoughts about him, too."

"What would be his motive?"

Baby hesitated. If he was, in fact, innocent, her words might do damage to his reputation. When he disclosed his sexual preference, she believed he thought it confidential. "I'd rather not say at the moment," she said in a somewhat apologetic tone.

Back at Lily's house later that afternoon, finding his number in Lily's address book, Baby put in a call to Jim Lawrence and found him at home. He agreed to meet with the judge after the memorial service, which he planned to attend anyway.

"What's this about?" he asked. His voice was gruff but emotionless.

"Let's save it for our meeting. I don't think I'll have to keep you long. I will tell you, though, that I'm assisting in the investigation of Lily's death."

The service was brief and rather touching, Baby thought, if almost non-religious. Dolores read a poem of Keats and the music was provided by Mavis Penworthy on the piano, who was playing "Clair de Lune" while the guests were settling into their seas. She was neither so amateurish nor professional to call attention to herself or the music but simply provided a nice accompaniment to the service. The minister spoke about life's journey in a general, comforting way, which by-passed Lily's personal attributes. Baby noticed no one shed a tear. Dolores had asked Peter to provide a simple reception of wine punch and finger food.

"Nothing elaborate, " she'd cautioned him, unable to predict, she told Baby, how many would attend.

In fact, it was surprisingly well attended, numbering sixty or more acquaintances, some from as far as Mobile. Baby had tentatively picked out Lily's former husband immediately–the right age, handsome in a dissipated sort of way. When she saw him talking to Grant King, she was sure.

"I'm Judge Godbold," she said, holding out her hand after the service. "If you're Jim Lawrence, we spoke on the phone."

"Yes, indeed, Judge. I'm glad to meet you."

During the introductions, King took that opportunity to slip away. "Where do you want to talk?" Lawrence asked Baby.

She'd set it up with Peter to use his office. He was fussing around with the reception and wouldn't need it for some time. They took chairs opposite one another.

"I wanted to ask you about Lily's associations in Mobile. Did she know anyone that lives on the island prior to moving here?"

He seemed to consider the question, then said, "No one that I know–except Grant and Florence, of course. If she knew anyone else, she didn't mention it to me."

"How close are you to the Kings?"

He gave a harsh laugh. "We are related, but we ran in different social circles. Grant and Florence took no sides after the divorce, which I can understand."

She nodded. "You and he are now quite cordial now, I noticed. Did he leave Mobile under any sort of a cloud?"

"Not that I ever heard. At least nothing criminal." He gave her an inquiring look. "Don't tell me you suspect Grant." He laughed. "He might have skinned a few hides in his business, but who doesn't in investments these days. He's never been particularly well liked–the rich and powerful and–well, arrogant seldom are, but I don't see him as a killer."

"Did Lily ever tell you anything unsavory about her past? Any trouble with anyone? Scandals?"

He slowly shook his head. "Not really. We had a rotten marriage, Judge, you may have guessed. We both were unfaithful and stupid. Whatever Lily did, her associations, I tried not to know about–at least talk about."

Baby sighed. This seemed to be another dead end. "You were married how long?"

"Eight years. We barely made it past the seven-year itch," he said with a half grin.

"And you can't think of anyone who'd want her dead?"

"No. She wasn't a sterling character, but most people liked her. She loved things that money could buy, not unusual for some women, I understand. She saw me and ultimately other men as the way to get her favorite things–furs, jewels, cars."

"It didn't have to do with sex?"

"Oh, sure. She was willing to go far afield for physical gratification."

"Would she have blackmailed someone for those things she wanted?"

"Without a backward glance," Lawrence said cooly.

Just what I thought, she said to herself, and then continued aloud, "It was what killed her–not watching her back."

"I'll be staying at the clubhouse for a couple of days in case you need me for anything," He said. "I have some people I need to talk to, her sister for one."

"Fine. I'll be seeing you around, then. By the way, do you do much boating, being so close to the Gulf?"

He gave her a surprised look and said, "I have an inboard that I keep at a marina. Why?"

"Just curious, that's all."

They both stood up, Baby preceding him out of the room. "You have your car here?" she asked, turning a little to look at him.

Lawrence looked surprised. "Yes, of course. It would be a problem without having a car to use. The cab service is hardly reliable, I hear."

When Baby returned from the memorial service, she found a message on voice mail from Sheriff Bumpus. She was put through to his office, and without preamble, he told her that DeWitt was indeed the convicted Dr. Jensen.

"He did change his name legally, though," the sheriff continued. "Couldn't ever practice medicine, so he must have thought this was the best way. He used to be at some medical research association in D.C. Why the hell he would have assumed the identity of a doctor after all this time beats me."

"He didn't really practice here, and I suppose he wanted to recapture the prestige he'd once had as a physician that he'd lost so ignominiously." So he was still in the running. She was almost disappointed. He seemed a nice fellow despite his unsavory medical practices.

But something was nagging at her, and she went to the living room to confront Lonnie about his connections with those in the antique business. "You must have known Jim Lawrence, prior to Lily moving here. Right?"

"No, I didn't. True, the big time dealers, those who handled high-end antiques, were always running into each other, but Daniel did all the buying and so he was the one who had dealings with Lawrence. Why?"

Baby shrugged. "I was curious to get your impression of him, that's all. Tell me about Daniel's attitude before he left town after Lily was killed."

"Well," Lonnie said, "Apparently Lily and Daniel talked about something that concerned her just before she was killed. Daniel seemed distressed, but didn't tell me about it. I assumed it was something personal. He was committed to go to an estate sale on the mainland and had to leave that day."

"Did Jim Lawrence give you any additional information that might help?" Dolores asked, joining them. She'd just arrived after spending a little more time than was absolutely necessary, Baby suspected, at the club chatting with Randy Le Jeune.

"He confirmed what we already knew. Lily needed beautiful, expensive things to fulfill herself. No great insights there. She was no doubt on a desperate search for happiness and couldn't get to the heart of her problem. Sad business to see someone waste a perfectly good life and then have it end in such a tragic way." Baby felt low herself as she spoke the words. Lily's death was not a crime of passion, but it most likely had been based on fear. Then she continued softly, "I'm convinced it was blackmail. After the officially sanctioned alimony payments ended, someone, maybe her ex, maybe someone else, was being touched for the $5500. Maybe she wanted more or else she'd tell–what? About a crime of some kind, or a political scandal, or maybe something personal? I think she got into a dangerous game before she knew it."

Chapter 25

"I've been a fool!" Baby cried, that evening. She began to pace the lanai. Dolores and Lonnie gawked at her. "I've been looking at this the wrong way round.

"Tomorrow," she continued, "you and I, Lonnie, need to drive to the antique shop, where we have a bit of sleuthing to do."

"What kind of sleuthing?"

"The murder weapon, for one thing; Poe asserted in a story that the best place to hide something is where it seems to belong, in plain sight. It probably explains why our man strangled poor Dody. Obviously, because he had already taken care of the knife and didn't have it on him."

"But the police searched the place, Judge," Lonnie interposed.

"The knife is to be found, I believe," Baby insisted. "It may not tell us anything, of course, only something about his character. We can be pretty sure that this guy knows enough to wear gloves. He's thinking all the time. But we may find other evidence the police overlooked."

Lonnie frowned. "I saw that they looked around the back room–the crime scene–and didn't spot anything suspicious."

"That's right. But we'll be checking some different places. I believe Daniel's murder is the clue we've been missing."

She noticed Lonnie didn't seem as excited as she was at the thought of revisiting the murder scene and looking for clues. Common enough response. Most folks tried to avoid close contact with the unseemly. For herself, this was akin to a good game of chess or even a Chinese puzzle. More exciting, in fact, since it involved the human element. It would be a step in the right direction.

"For now," Baby said thoughtfully, "I need to have a talk with the constable. I hate to bother him at such a time, but I have an idea I need to check out." She turned to Dolores and said, "I'll borrow your car, if that's all right."

She left them with puzzled looks on their faces, but she wasn't ready to share anything pertinent at the moment. It may not even be pertinent, she thought ruefully. It was only a theory.

The constable had closed the store but was at home with his wife. Baby apologized when he opened the door to her. However, he immediately showed her into the front room.

"What can I do for you, Judge." He indicated a chair, but she declined.

"It's about your daughter's plans before she was killed. What exactly was she doing? Do you know?"

"Sure, she was going shopping on the mainland with a friend over there. She's been paid and the money was burning a hole in her pocket. You know how girls are." His face began to crumple, but then he regained control.

"She walked to the ferry, but she didn't have a car to get around on the mainland?"

"Her friend was meeting her. She went to school there, you see."

"Yes, I see. And her path to the ferry would have taken her behind the antique shop, right?"

The constable confirmed her route. Baby shook his hand, again expressed her sympathies, and took her leave.

The next morning, Baby took her time at breakfast and dressing. "I don't think we need to go off half-cocked. Let's do our morning chores, first."

But Lonnie seemed agitated, unable to do much more than straightening up his room and then pacing around the house and even going down to the beach to stare at the water for a while.

The two women were preparing to do a little housecleaning when the doorbell rang.

"I'm Sophia. Today's my day to clean the house. All right?"

Baby showed her in and introduced her to Dolores, who gave her a grateful look. "We'll both clean," she said to the woman. "I'll be seeing the furniture dealers tomorrow to sell off everything, so your coming today is a Godsend."

"I'm going to need you at some point," Baby cautioned Dolores. "Lonnie and I will be going over to the antique shop now, but I hope we won't be long."

Lonnie unlocked the door to the shop and walked in hesitantly, followed by Baby. "I think I'm going to have to move from the island," he said. "Sell the shop. Probably go back to Mobile. I'll never be comfortable here again."

"I understand," she said sympathetically. "Now, what I want you to do is go through these rooms with a fine-toothed comb and see if you can find anything that's not supposed to be there. Let's start in the back."

"Do I have to? The thought of Daniel . . . ."

"I know. It's difficult, but necessary. You have a unique perspective that I need to rely on. I can trust your judgment, your knowledge, your instincts."

They wandered into what had been the office, and screened from view, a catch-all area for things that were being sorted out for disposal or to be shipped to customers, Lonnie said. He stopped in his tracks as he looked behind the desk that was at a right angle to the wall about half-way into the room.

"It happened here, didn't it?" Then he peered into the kneehole space. "What's this?" He knelt and began to pick up some pieces of glass under the desk. "How strange. It's some art glass, our nice Peach Blow. Very rare. It seems to have been kicked under the desk."

"Where was it kept?"

"We didn't keep it on display. Too valuable, so it was in a case back here." He went to a closed cupboard on the back wall and took keys from his pocket, selecting one and opening the receptacle. Inside were under a dozen vases, cups, and plates of luminescent designs. Lonnie counted them silently. "All here, except for the broken one. What a shame–it was insured, of course, but that design is hard to come by. Many museums would have liked that, if we had wanted to sell off."

"Why would Daniel have one of those pieces out?" Baby asked, peering inside.

"I can't imagine. Unless someone asked to see it. Oh, my God! The killer? It was his ruse, do you think, to put him off guard?"

"We won't know that, at least not yet, but it is an interesting find. Keep looking through the rooms for now. Remember, our quest is the knife."

"How about the desk drawers?" Lonnie asked, opening one of them.

"I believe the sheriff's men checked all those as well as the filing cabinets and behind those boxes over there. I know they spent a considerable amount of time looking in here."

"I guess we should go to the other room where most of the artifacts are then. We have a lot to go through."

Lonnie began by looking in the cases, while Baby examined the cluttered table tops and shelves. It took only ten minutes of searching before Lonnie cried out, "Could this be it? It's for sale, but the price tag is missing." He was pointing to a case of cheaper objects, some opera glasses, miniature books, imitation tortoise-shell combs, and other objects of limited value. The case was not locked, and inside, lying across a pair of elbow-length white leather gloves, was a decorative knife with a thin blade no longer than six inches.

"The knife," he said in a whisper. "This is it, isn't it." The knife had a carved brass handle inset with cabochon-style colored stones.

"Looks oriental or mid-eastern, not anything rare or unusual, I expect" Baby commented. "Do you have any plastic bags?"

"Sure and even more, I've got some white gloves that we use to handle silver and other metal objects." He went into the back and returned quickly with the items.

"It's been imperfectly wiped off. See the traces of blood where the handle meets the blade. I'd say that leaving it here is a statement in itself. What arrogance!"

Lonnie shuddered. "It's so unbelievable to be looking at a murder weapon here. How did you know?"

Baby placed the knife in the bag and then gathered up her handbag. "I didn't, of course, for sure, but I did think about hiding something in plain sight. You might have figured it out eventually, but it might have gone unnoticed forever. We'll take this with us, and I'll call Sheriff Bumpus so he can take it for evidence. This brings us to the point where we need to catch the killer, and do it quickly. I think you might be next on his agenda."

"Why? I don't know who it is." Lonnie locked the front door and went to the car.

"I wonder if you don't know more than you think you do," Baby said. "Let's concern ourselves with the broken glass. It was at the desk where we can assume Daniel was probably sitting, having a conversation with someone. Why would he have gotten the Peach Blow out?" Lonnie started to answer in the negative, but Baby continued. "Of course, we don't know why, but I would assume it is a clue that he's given us. He possibly knew he was in danger, and he was hoping to show, probably you, something. Now think, Lonnie. What's the story of the valuable art glass?"

"I can't imagine. We had customers who were after certain pieces, but as I recall it's been a little while since we've sold any. Business has been off, you know, what with the economy."

"What does a piece of that quality glass sell for?"

"Huh! Many hundreds of dollars. If you can get hold of a large piece, it would be in the thousands, in the tens of thousands."

"But none was missing. So that wasn't the motive. Where did you buy that glass–or rather, where did Daniel get it? At an auction? Estate sale?"

"Different places at different times, but he did get a number of pieces on consignment that we eventually bought from Jim Lawrence. Things had been a bit rough for him, and he's a high flyer, as I said. His deals are big ones, and when they go south, he's immediately in trouble. Too much invested, and if he can't get buyers, he's sitting with his thumb up his–well, not to be crude, but you know."

"I can imagine," Baby said, dryly. "I hope we haven't been outsmarted, after all. The people who could have told us what's what are all dead. All except you, Lonnie. I need everything you know about that art glass. Whom did you buy various pieces from and who bought it from you over the last few years, say, or any other information that might be of interest. And there's one more thing we need to do."

"What?" Lonnie looked at her questioningly.

"We're going to need an antiques expert in art glass. Will you recommend someone?"

"Sure, that's no problem, but he's in Mobile. There's a permanent art glass exhibit at a museum and its resident curator, who happens to be a friend, is well qualified to appraise glass."

"Good. We'll want to take all the pieces to him, along with your inventory information on the provenance of each item. Now, did you sell any of this type of glass to anyone on the island? It might have been some time ago."

"Yes, Esther bought a piece, and Rick Jarrett has bought several–his mother has a collection. The pieces are costly enough for me to remember every sale in the last couple of years. What's up, Judge?"

"Give me time, and I'll explain. I have just a couple more things to verify."

Back at Lily's house, Baby confronted Dolores, who was busy packing away items to be shipped to Dallas. "Do you think Lily had any pictures of her ex here?"

"I'll look through her photos. I'm sure she still has the wedding pictures. They were married at a 'destination' wedding in New Orleans. Very posh, very much to Lily's taste. She'd not have destroyed those, even with the divorce." Dolores left the room to find the box that contained the pictures she had gathered up. In a few minutes, she came out with a handful of professional photographs. "Here you go."

"Thanks, let me take just this one, the close up of the two of them." Then she called the sheriff and explained about their find of the weapon. He assured her he'd be over as soon as possible to pick up the knife. "Also, Sheriff, would you do me a favor and bring the list of phone calls that Lily received that last month before she was killed. I have an idea about that."

"I guess I can do that. Anything else?" But surprisingly, his tone was helpful, not ironic as had been the case earlier.

"I believe there's a marina near the ferry station on the mainland. I think it would be interesting to find out if any boats were seen leaving there the night of Lily's death."

"So you're thinking it wasn't someone on the island?"

"I'm only trying to either eliminate or verify. I can't say which at this time. But come here first so you can get a photograph for a possible i.d.."

Lonnie and Dolores were listening with great interest while the conversation went on, but after hanging up the phone, Baby said apologetically, "I wish I could enlighten all of you, but I'm still not 100 percent sure. I do have task for you, Dolores. Ask Randy if you could go to his lab tomorrow and review the composition or the quality of the linen fiber found under Lily's nails."

"You think that may be of some use?" Dolores had brightened up at once.

"I do. I've read a bit on the internet about linen, and I know there are differences in natural color, if our linen hasn't been dyed, or dye lots, if it has, and in fiber length, its nodes, all of which can identify to some extent where the flax was grown. That just may serve us well if we need additional evidence. A warrant may be in order."

"Judge!" Dolores exclaimed. "This sounds like you're seriously considering someone."

"Can't say yet, but I want to have all our ducks in a row." Baby had not sat down since talking on the phone, and now she began to pace the room, thinking.

"Lonnie, would you call your friend at the museum and set up an appointment?"

Lonnie went to the phone and returned after a few minutes, saying they were to meet with the curator tomorrow. "Why, Judge?" he asked. "What can he tell us that we don't know?"

"Maybe motive, maybe not. I'm working on an idea."

Lonnie and Dolores looked at each other and both shrugged.

Chapter 26

The sheriff had arrived within two hours and taken both the knife and the photograph after handing Baby the phone log. He also assured her she'd be the first to know if and when he got any useful information from any source. "I've seen to it that everyone connected with this case who are on the island have been notified they cannot leave without my permission. It's helpful they all have e-mail addresses, but I made a call or two just to be sure. I don't want anyone skipping out. Too many things up in the air about these murders."

"Good idea, Sheriff. I have a feeling we may be getting close."

After shaking hands, Baby saw the Sheriff to the door. She went back to the lanai and joined the others who had drinks in hand.

"Can I fix you something, Judge?" Dolores asked, swirling a gin and tonic temptingly.

"Thanks, with vodka, please. I'll just peruse these numbers and the notes from the Sheriff's Department researcher. They've been very thorough, which is a pleasant surprise."

"Calls to Lily?" Lonnie asked.

"Local calls and one from an untraceable cell phone. That may be instructive though not definitive."

"I don't get it," Lonnie said. "But I trust that you do."

"Let's do a bit more sleuthing first."

The next day, shortly after 9:00, Dolores joined Baby and Lonnie in the car after they had gone to the shop and packed up the several pieces of art glass. They all could travel on the ferry together since Dolores had no set time to visit the lab. Baby and Lonnie's appointment at the museum was for 11:00, and it would take forty-five minutes to reach Mobile after they hit the mainland coast.

"I can call you," Baby told Dolores, as they dropped her off, "when we leave the museum this afternoon, but you may be finished long before, or not, by then. What do you want us to do about getting you across to the island?"

"Randy said he'd take me home later after we've had lunch. There's a nice restaurant, so he tells says. So don't worry about me."

Lonnie directed the judge to the museum without any difficulty, and after introducing her to the curator, Henry Mamonet, they all went to a workroom downstairs. After what seemed a cursory examination of each piece of glass, the curator declared only one of the objects was of the correct period.

Lonnie looked at Baby, astonishment on his face. "Fakes? We have fakes?"

Mamonet shrugged. "Sorry, Lonnie, but it's unmistakable. I've seen this stuff before, and it's pretty good, but that work of the late 19th century can't really be duplicated when one knows what to look for. Someone was out to make money and had no scruples. For one thing, no one can use gold anymore in the process–too costly to be practical, and any substitute never looks quite the same."

Dispirited, Lonnie wrapped up his artifacts and thanked the curator for the information. "Ignorance really is bliss," he said ruefully as they walked to the car. "I don't understand. Daniel was practically an expert himself in identifying new fakes, so why would he knowingly let bad things leave the shop? I'll buy back everything or at least have them verified for authenticity."

"Good idea," Baby said, approvingly. "But we've still got a murderer to catch first."

"What does that have to do with the glass, Judge?"

Baby got into the driver's seat and said, "I think it may have everything to do with it, one way or another. I'm still not absolutely sure about the motive, but now I think we can approach the sheriff with a request for a couple of warrants."

When they got back to Lily's house, Dolores hadn't yet returned, and Baby went to the little room used as an office and turned on the laptop computer on a petite rosewood desk. She easily retrieved the e-mail program and discovered, as she had hoped, that Lily's friends and acquaintances on the island were listed, though not grouped in any particular way. She nodded with satisfaction. It would be a cinch to get them all together, and it wouldn't be that much longer to end the suspense, she was sure. Only confirmation by the sheriff remained, and then the search to find the pair of linen trousers for Dolores to compare the fibers. She knew that was a gamble, too, that maybe a bluff would be indicated if the fibers were too common. Still, that sometimes worked if the perpetrator wasn't a hardened criminal, only a desperate one.

The next morning, Baby left the others on the lanai to answer the telephone. It was the sheriff, as she'd hoped. "Anything, Sheriff?" she asked, yet she was sure what he'd say.

"I think we've got our man. So shall I bring him in for questioning? We still have only circumstantial evidence, you know."

"Is it enough for a warrant to go through his things?"

"I think so," the sheriff drawled. "The judges in this district are pretty cooperative."

"Good. If you'll see to it, and remember, we're looking for a pair of light colored trousers, maybe Bermuda shorts, natural linen. Gather up any that seem to fit the description. Dolores and Le Jeune will probably be able to tell which is the pair. Also, please have the warrant include bank records to look for regular monthly cash withdrawals. After that, I'd like to call a meeting of those concerned for tomorrow evening. That would be the appropriate time for an arrest. I'll ask Peter Royal to reserve us a room at the club."

"I'll get on the warrant right away. I should have it within the hour and get my people on this. I'll be on the island shortly thereafter."

Baby went back to the lanai lighthearted. "I can tell you we're progressing rapidly now." She turned to Dolores, "Can you call Randy and ask him to be ready to compare fibers probably early this afternoon?"

"He may be busy at his practice today, but he's given me carte blanche at the lab. I'm pretty sure I can determine if we have a match. The fibers, as I explained last night, are the finest grown, so a cheap version with too short fibers, or anything that is mixed flax and cotton, for example, or mixed with anything man-made can be ruled out."

The wait until word from the sheriff seemed interminable to Baby. She continued to help Dolores and Lonnie as they packed clothes, decorative items, and some of the kitchen equipment they felt were dispensable. The day dragged by with little said by anyone as if too much talk would affect the investigation going on around them.

Then the next day, after a light lunch and while they were cleaning up after themselves, the doorbell rang.

Baby opened the door to the sheriff, who handed her three plastic bags. Inside were individual articles of clothing. "Got something, Sheriff?" Baby said with a smile.

"Two pairs of shorts and one pair of trousers. Let's hope we get a match. I don't know when I can report about the bank account, but I have someone working on that.."

"Good, but in the meantime, I'll call you as soon as we know about the fibers. I'm so sure we've got our man, I'm calling a meeting tonight of Lily's circle. Our man may try to run."

"We'll be there, Ravens and I with another officer at the ready. We can subdue anyone who thinks he might outfox us."

"My guess is that he thinks he's already outfoxed us and will be horribly surprised at what I plan to say. I'll be able to clue you in as to the guilty party so you can keep an eye on his movements. We may have to use a bluff, since the evidence is iffy at best."

"I look forward to that. Three murders! Think of it, in this peaceful place." The sheriff turned to leave, tipping his hat to Baby. "I couldn't have done it without you, Judge. Thanks."

"Wait until this is all wrapped up before you thank me." Still, she felt confident enough to go immediately to the computer and send the message to all Lily's island correspondents to meet that evening at 7:30 at the club, asking for an immediately response. She also phoned a few people to make sure they understood this was a kind of royal command. Then she called her brother and talked to him about the evening she had planned.

"I'm glad the sheriff will be there, Baby," Son said. "You always think you can handle everything. But you have to remember you're cornering a killer. How can you guarantee he'll be there?"

"Oh, my invitation seemed authoritative and the sheriff went around himself this morning to make sure that those involved with Lily don't try to skip out early. Of course, he made it sound as if that was routine for all the men who knew Lily intimately, so as not to tip the suspect off. At least that's what we hope."

"I do too. It will be a relief to have this settled and the person responsible in custody."

Dolores returned from her task at the lab early that afternoon. "I can definitely say that one of the pairs of Bermuda shorts has the same linen fiber found under Lily's nails. That doesn't mean that it's unique, of course, but if you are sure about who did the deed or deeds, it's a start. I also ran luminol over the shorts, and a residue of blood showed up, though they had been cleaned and according to the sheriff had been in the dry cleaners bag. It will take a little time to check for DNA, but if it turns up and then proves to be Lily's, we've got him cold. "

"Oh,thanks ever so much. We have plenty to go on now. I know the motive, the means, and the method." Then she paused, chewing a knuckle in contemplation. "I wish we'd had time to get all the bank records. The sheriff has got someone on that, but again, if he had been paying off Lily in cash, he might have taken out odd amounts each month, so as not to alert suspicion. And $5500 isn't that much anymore for someone with lavish tastes. I bet Lily was trying to get it upped, and if he refused, she threatened to bring out the big guns."

Dolores sighed. "She was greedy for more, always. It was her nature."

"But she was so charming," Lonnie interjected. "Daniel and I both loved her."

"Thanks," Dolores said, appreciatively. "I'm glad she had friends who appreciated her more lovable qualities."

Son called and offered them a ride to the meeting, and amid a back-and-forth conversation with Mary Rose, Lonnie, and Dolores, they all decided to eat at the club, since no one was up to planning a meal. "It will be good for me to be there early," Baby said. "That way, I can determine if anyone is not on board and have to be brought in by the authorities." They had taken a table facing the double doors to the front foyer.

Their food came amid inconsequential talk until they were sipping coffee after the meal.

"What do you expect, Baby?" Mary Rose asked nervously. She had never shown any interest in her sister-in-law's crime solving activities, only a mild aversion.

"I expect to catch a killer," Baby said in a matter-of-fact tone. She never took her eyes off the door as the time of the meeting drew closer. Mentally, she was ticking off who had arrived and were being directed to a board room off the main foyer. At last the sheriff and the constable came in. Baby noticed a uniform posted outside the door as well. Good! She thought. Sheriff Bumpus is taking it seriously enough. Then he spotted her and came over to the table, handing her a folder.

"The bank statement. Looks damning with all the other evidence," he said quietly. Then he went into the conference room.

"Can we go in now?" Son asked his sister, who was rapidly checking the material inside the folder. "Is it time for the showdown?" Though his words seemed facetious, his face was serious.

She nodded and set off for the meeting, the other two following in her wake.

The board room had paneled walls with the requisite padded, high-back chairs around a large table of polished wood. There were other chairs along the perimeter of the room and several of the guests had already taken seats there, including the Penworthys and Jim Lawrence. Son motioned his wife to a chair along the wall while Baby took a vacant seat beside the sheriff at the table. Constable Ravens stood near the door. Baby noticed the Kings were chatting with Rick Jarrett, while the Dentons sat quietly with expressions of either annoyance or resignation beside the Ushers, Kent and Marilyn. Esther Levine and Dr. DeWitt were also talking quietly alongside Dolores and Lonnie, neither of whom were talking. Peter Royal was the last to enter the room.

"Is this it?" the Sheriff asked Baby, who nodded, as he closed the door. Then he took his seat and said, "I think most of you may have an inkling why we are gathered here today. I'm going to turn this here meeting over to Judge Godbold, however, who will apprise you of the agenda." He turned to Baby and nodded, "Judge?"

"Thank you, Sheriff," Baby said, rising. She had no notes, but began a slow appraisal of faces going clockwise around the room. "I'm sure everyone here, but one, will be eager to hear what I'm going to say, since it concerns apprehending the murderer who has been busy these several days on the island."

Small gasps could be heard from different quarters around the room with Grant King murmuring, "Good show."

"It appeared quite naturally to me that Lily's death was the critical one, since she was murdered first, followed some days later by Daniel Martin and then Dody Ravens. This sent me into an exploration of Lily's life, her loves, her scandals, if any, to see what might have triggered such a heinous and brutal act. Clearly, her death was not what would be called a crime of passion. So another motive had to be considered. Was it something long past? This was a question posed to her sister," and here Baby smiled at Dolores, "who gave me some pertinent information that I checked out for verification. Yes, someone from Lily's past who did her a great injury was here and might have done most anything to avoid disclosure by Lily. But it was long ago, and the individual had been punished. I found it wasn't in Lily's nature to be vengeful.

"Furthermore," Baby continued to a rapt audience, "when Daniel Martin turned up murdered several days later, I found absolutely no connection to this first individual, and so he had to be eliminated. That left me with two other possible suspects. Both had a relationship with Lily, and both had dealings with Daniel. As far as poor Dody was concerned, her death occurred because she witnessed someone somewhere at the wrong time."

"So, Judge," Denton interrupted impatiently, "get to the point. Who's the guy? Why did you call all of us together?"

"Yes," Florence King chimed in, "what's the idea of having us here to talk about a murderer? It's creepy. Can't the police just do their job?"

"Hush up, please," Esther Levine snapped. "I for one am interested to hear what the judge has to say, and so should all of you."

"We're together this evening," Baby continued, with a grateful look at Esther, "to unveil a murderer, and it's important for the peace of this community that all of you understand why the murders happened. Lily had been receiving an alimony payment from her former husband, who was feeling strapped in his business, and the payments had eventually stopped. Jim Lawrence had pulled some sort of a scam in the art glass collectibles area, which was unknown to Lonnie, but undoubtedly known by the more knowledgeable Daniel who, as it turned out, was profiting from it. I'll explain in a minute how this at first confused me as to the identity of the culprit." She looked at Jim Lawrence, who sat with tightened lips and a grim expression on his face. Too bad, she thought coldly. Exposure of his little plan for profit is well deserved.

"I began to see several possibilities why not just Jim Lawrence but another prominent individual might have reason to want Lily and Daniel silenced. It had to do with private knowledge of a particularly destructive kind and payoffs that may not have been reliable. For a while, as I said, because Lily was killed first, I thought Lily had told Daniel something that brought him to the attention of the killer. But that was just an accident because Daniel had to go out of town on business, and Lily's demands for more money for her silence had been brought to the killer's attention. I suspect if Daniel had been taken care of first, that might have solved the disclosure problem and kept Lily quiet out of fear for her life She couldn't have squealed on the perpetrator openly because of her blackmail, for which she, herself, could be punished."

"But how, Judge," asked DeWitt, who had been following closely Baby's explanation, "did you find evidence enough to even accuse the man? Wasn't he careful?"

"Oh, very careful," Baby nodded. "We had circumstantial evidence that implicated the two men–lack of alibi for the various pertinent times; a viable motive, which included a desperate need for personal gain; and so on. Then it became clear that Jim Lawrence was not observed on the island the night of Lily's death. The ferry was closed, and the marina had no boats departing from it that evening, which would have been the jumping off place to reach the island. A long boat trip late at night would have been difficult and dangerous. On the other hand, a trip from one house on the island to another was do-able. We also know that someone had called Lily earlier with a disposable cell phone to make arrangements for a meeting at the dock, which suggested he came by boat, probably from nearby. Incidently, Jim wasn't rich enough to be hounded by Lily for more money. Who wasn't at the party and had no verifiable alibi?" Baby pointed at Rick Jarrett, who sat stony-faced, staring at Baby.

"As further proof, Rick Jarrett unknowingly left some forensic evidence at the scene of Lily's murder, which we were finally able to corroborate as belonging to him. Some of it happened to be under her fingernails, some of it as blood residue on the fabric, even though the item had been cleaned. Lily had discovered through her intimate connection with Daniel that Jarrett had had a short-lived but damning relationship with the gay man. This knowledge spread abroad would be deadly for his political aspirations, even in the liberal climate of today. Certain behavior is still expected from high officials, and adultery and homosexual experimentation are not acceptable. Was Daniel giving Jarrett a hard time or was his existence alone a threat? We can only surmise.

"This was the crux of Jarrett's crime spree. He had to eliminate the two sources that posed a danger to his ambitions, with possibly a third source waiting in the wings, for I suspect Lonnie was to be the next victim. Jarrett couldn't take the chance of overpowering two men at the same time;. Fearing for Lonnie's safety, I had taken him to Lily's house where I could keep an eye on him. As for Daniel's silence up to the time of the murder, he had been paid off with overpriced art objects that Jarrett had conveniently purchased on a regular basis. But now with the governor's seat as Jarrett's aim, that payoff would never be safe enough, the stakes were too high and the gay community too voluble for secrets to be maintained. Lily had sealed her fate by asking for additional money, or she'd tell all. So Jarrett, even though he is financially secure, balked at that, as he could see an escalation of blackmail following him forever."

At that, Jarrett rose from his seat, a smirk on his handsome face. "This is all speculation, Judge. Ridiculous speculation. I'd like to see any prosecutor take this on a as a viable case."

"Shouldn't be that hard," Baby said calmly. "There's no point now in running. We have not just the motive, which as you know, except for juries isn't the important thing, but we have circumstantial evidence, and most damning, the fibers under Lily's nails, which have been traced to a item of clothing you happened to have kept in your possession. I suspect that DNA will clinch it." She smiled pleasantly, and motioned to the deputy, who advanced toward Jarrett, dangling the handcuffs. "All of that, coupled with no alibi, as well as the opportunity, enhanced by your handy runabout that moved you in and out of both crime scenes, will get you speedily arraigned and sent to trial, I have no doubt."

After Jarrett was led out of the room, multiple voices were raised, directing questions to Baby, who finally held up her hands for quiet. "I understand how disturbed you must be by all the events that took away the peace of your little enclave, not to mention hearing about the guilt of one of your most prestigious residents. That's the way it is with self-centered, ruthless characters, who will stop at nothing to further their ambitions and are clever enough to mask their true natures. Now you can all finally go back to your lives and put all this behind you."

With that, feeling spent and needing a break from the faces around her, she quickly left the room, followed by her brother, with his wife catching up behind.

"But, Baby," Son muttered under his breath, "I get the impression, no matter how certain you sounded, that this may not be the most solid arrest and a conviction, for that matter."

Baby got into the back seat of the car and waited until her brother and Mary Rose got in and closed the doors. "We don't yet have forensic evidence that's strong enough to convict. The linen fiber is hardly unique, for one thing. Maybe enough blood DNA can be collected from the shorts, but I rather doubt it. I can only hope that everything else, including a regular withdrawal of funds, big enough to supply Lily each month with her living expenses, will help convince a jury beyond a reasonable doubt. That's all we can expect when dealing with a very competent killer who knows how to cover his tracks."

"But he won't be around here, will he, Baby?" Mary Rose cried, "I couldn't stand to see him in our little community if he happens to get off."

"I wouldn't worry about it, dear," her sister-in-law replied. "I'm counting on a prosecutor who can get the job done, and if not, Jarrett will be ruined for any further political life and not likely to come here for vacations. I don't think he'd be welcome."

"How about a movie on the mainland tonight?" Son asked. "We can go by boat, stop in at a little bar I know for a drink later. What do you say?"

Remembering the earlier boat ride, the degree of comfort she would not have, she replied, "I think a drink at home with a movie from your DVD collection would suit me better."

"Fine," her brother agreed. "We all need to relax, and then tomorrow, you need to find some place where you can have a real vacation."

"But, Son," Baby protested, "this has been a most wonderful vacation. I can return to Nashville completely refreshed. It was a perfect vacation!"

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