“We… we didn’t want anyone to know we were here. I’ll explain later,” she added.

“Fine. Are you ready to go?”

“Wh-”

“You were meeting Tyler and me for dinner.”

“Oh, I forgot! It’s late! Tyler must be starving!”

“Tyler is fine. I fed him an entire pizza with the works and he’s gone home to watch videos.”

Josie instantly reverted to mother mode. “He’s had pizza two nights in a row. And he watches videos at that store all day. Shouldn’t he be out getting some fresh air?”

“He’s fine. We ate at a table on the boardwalk. He’s had his daily allotment of air-and cheese. I, on the other hand, am starving.”

“Oh, Sam…”

“We’d better get going now that we’ve finished up here.” Dottie spoke up.

“Yeah, good night.” Jill picked up the hint.

“See you in the morning,” Annette added, sounding a bit doubtful.

“Why doesn’t Dottie drive the truck and Jill the Jeep,” Josie suggested. “Annette can ride.”

“Okay.”

“Good night.”

“Good night. Thanks for everything.” Josie realized they all wanted to get out of there as soon as possible. She felt the same way. “You must be starving,” she said, looking up at Sam with a smile on her face.

“I am. Good night, ladies.” He waited until they were alone and then put both hands on Josie’s shoulders and turned her toward him. “What is going on here, Josie?”

She had a question of her own. “How did you know I was here?”

“Your truck and the Island Contracting Jeep are parked out front. I even know that you were at your office earlier.”

“The same way, right?”

“Your truck was parked outside. Anyone could tell you were there.”

“I never thought about that.” Josie spoke slowly.

“So are you going to tell me what’s going on now? Or do you want to wait until we get to the restaurant?”

Josie decided that wasn’t the time to tell him that she had already eaten. “Let’s go to the restaurant. We can talk there.”

And she would have the entire drive to decide just how much she was going to tell him.

JOSIE GOT INTO Sam’s antique MGB. “Do I need to go home and change? Where are we going?” she asked, peering through the windshield.

“How about Basil’s new spot? I’d like to try it and he won’t care what you look like. Although you look very nice,” Sam lied diplomatically.

“I didn’t know his new place was open yet.”

“You’ve had other things to think about. It opened last week. I hope we can get a table.”

Josie didn’t answer. Sam was just making conversation. They both knew Basil would fit them in someplace.

“I saw the menu when Basil was placing his wine order. This should be an interesting meal.”

“I don’t remember exactly what he was planning. I know he was talking about a Southwestern theme emphasizing fish on the menu-or was it Thai?” She was momentarily diverted. She’d eaten earlier but, in fact, was always hungry. And Basil’s meals were always worth relishing.

“He couldn’t make up his mind. So he decided to try a multicultural approach. All the main courses emphasize fish, but the recipes are Thai, Tex-Mex, Caribbean, American Southern, Cajun, French, even a bit of English-Basil thought he needed to provide fish and chips for families who want to eat with their children.”

“Interesting.”

“As is his selection of wines. If I buy a bottle of good Chardonnay, will you at least tell me a bit of what’s going on?”

Josie opened her mouth to protest and then shut it again. Sam knew her. He knew she wouldn’t have been leading her crew around that house long after the workday had ended unless she had a good reason to be there. And he knew there was something odd about doing it in the dark. She leaned back against the soft glove-leather seat (original equipment) and closed her eyes. “Yes. In fact, I’d like to ask your advice. Just don’t tell me we should go to the police. We already decided against that.”

It was dark; her eyes were closed. She didn’t see Sam roll his eyes. “You’re making me very nervous” was all he said.

“Join the crowd.” She opened her eyes as the car made a sharp turn. “Are we already there?”

“Yup. But I don’t see anyplace to park. Is that car coming or going?”

It turned out to be leaving and they slid easily into the spot vacated by the big white Lincoln Town Car. They both got out, and as Sam locked the doors, Josie stared up at the bright sign over the long one-story building. A KETTLE OF FISH was spelled out in green neon light. They walked under the sign and through a door decorated with an imaginative underwater scene.

Josie looked around curiously. Island Contracting had remodeled two of Basil’s five restaurants, but he had bought this building recently and decided to go through this season with what he called “a little minor decorating.”

What was minor decorating for Basil would have been considered a major project by almost anyone else. The walls had been painted with white gloss paint and displayed fish, not the normal stuffed variety, but the type found in galleries in SoHo, fish formed of every material: glass, pottery, fabric, metals, painted on paper, made from paper, and displayed on paper. The effect was unique, modern, and chic. Just the sort of environment to attract the type of people who work in the media, she realized, spying Bobby Valentine at a large table with three members of his crew.

“What’s wrong?” Sam asked as she hesitated.

“I… I was wondering if there’s a table free. But… not too close to Bobby Valentine.”

“Why are you avoiding him? I thought you all were getting along just fine.”

“We are, but… Well, I thought we were going to have a chance to talk.”

“And you don’t want him to overhear what we’re talking about?”

“Exactly.”

“No problem. We’ll just tell Basil-”

“You’ll just tell Basil what?”

He was right behind them. They turned and were confronted with a remarkable sight. Basil Tilby had outdone himself. His long legs were encased in dark green slacks. His shoes were silver. He had on a T-shirt of the same shade as his pants, but his jacket was a work of art. Fashioned of canvas, it had been painted with mythical creatures of the deep. Aquarius poured water from a large urn across Basil’s shoulders. Mermaids swirled about his lapels. Josie was speechless.

“We’d like a table, but preferably on that side of the room.” Sam pointed away from Bobby Valentine’s party.

“No problem. Most of my customers prefer the other. Let’s see… How about that small one by the window?”

“Perfect.” Sam looked around. “Is this the smoking area?”

“No, all smoking is done on the enclosed porch.”

“Then why is that the most popular side of the room? This is just as charming and it has a view.”

“That side has become our own little media hangout.”

“We noticed the people from Courtney’s show there.”

“They’ve been here every night since we opened. And where they go on the island, crowds follow, as Josie knows by now. I can’t complain. I’ve never had a restaurant become popular so quickly.”

“Has Courtney shown up recently?” Sam asked, sitting down across from Josie.

“Nope. But the crowd keeps hoping and her producer says she’ll be here any day now.”

“Really?” Josie felt she had to say something.

“Yes. How is it working with her?” Basil asked, handing her a menu written on a large white piece of paper shaped like a life preserver.

“Great!”

From the expression on the men’s faces, she realized her response had been just a bit too enthusiastic. “Although it would be nice to be interviewed by her instead of Bobby Valentine pretending to be her.”

“Is that what’s going on now?”

“Yes, it’s called working around her.”

“Only, of course, she’s not around,” Basil suggested.

“No, not anymore.”