Jed returned, accompanied by a waitress she hadn’t seen previously.

“This is Trina. She’s helping out in the kitchen today. I told her we’d understand if she took a little more time than her experienced colleagues.”

The young woman giggled until her hair, wrapped in dozens of braids bound with little silver beads, flew out in all directions. “My cousin… he work here always, but today with the death, they expect big crowd and he call me to help out.”

“Big crowd? You mean people will come here from other parts of the island? Other resorts?”

“Maybe. My cousin say Lila might hire me if I do well in emergency. I don’t want to work other places. I want to work here.”

“Oh, what-”

“I’m starving. Tell Trina what you want for breakfast, Sue,” Jed interrupted, sitting down across from her.

Susan was beginning to wonder if she knew her husband at all. “I’ll have the pecan pancakes with coconut syrup and bacon… and coffee… and some fresh fruit, please,” she answered, glaring at him.

“I’ll have the same,” he agreed. “And you’ll remember to tell our friends that we’re out here if you see them?”

“Of course. I see them. I tell them. And I bring your breakfast back here faster than you can believe.”

“We can only hope,” Jed said when they were alone together again.

Susan was still examining the guests. “Except for Kath and Jer, I don’t know who else is missing-That gorgeous blond. The one who was carrying that beautiful scarf! I thought she looked familiar. She is-she was-that was Allison?”

“Yes.”

Susan tried to accept what she was hearing. It had been at least ten years since she had last seen Allison McAllister. She remembered that day well. She sat back in her seat, stared out at the clouds making way for the returning blue sky and the sparkling sun, and remembered.

June Gordon and her two children had been killed when the car she was driving had spun out of control and careened off a raised bypass on the highway right outside of Hancock. She had been an excellent driver, and no one had ever known what caused the accident, although Susan often wondered if June had taken her eyes off the road to check on one of her children-something every mother did but usually without fatal results.

Jed had been on a business trip, and Susan had accompanied a stunned Jerry to the trauma center morgue to identify the bodies of his wife and children. She had had nightmares about that event for years afterwards. Seeing June had been bad, but the children… Susan shook her head and sat up straighter. It was Allison’s death she should be concerned with now, not something that happened over a decade ago.

She had last seen Allison about six months after June’s death. Jerry had readily accepted Susan’s offer to help. He had asked her to clean out his children’s rooms, and she had done that, sending boxes of clothes to the local women’s shelter and their toys and books to the state Head Start collection agency to be distributed where needed. She had also gone through June’s closets, removing clothing and personal items and donating them to charity after checking with family members and friends to see what, if anything, they wanted.

June’s parents were both dead and she had only one sister: Allison was an artist who made a living by freelancing. Most of her work, Susan remembered, was done for various advertising agencies. Allison didn’t want many of her sister’s possessions. She lived in a loft on the Lower East Side. Susan remembered her describing it as high rather than wide. Allison had spent a few days helping sort through her sister’s possessions and then, claiming the call of work, returned to the city, leaving behind a small shoe box filled with June’s possessions. Less than a year later Jerry put the house on the market and Allison arrived to claim that box. Susan, hearing from Jerry of the proposed visit, had made a point of being at his home while Allison was in town.

Jerry had thought Susan was being unselfish, but actually the opposite was true. She wanted to speak with Allison about the bracelets. June and Susan both had small children they adored-and desperately wanted to escape for a few hours once or twice a week, so they had started going to craft fairs held in local church halls and featuring items like stenciled pot holders and Christmas tree ornaments molded from bread dough. Then they had moved up to juried craft fairs featuring artists who worked in gold and diamonds. At one of these fairs, June found and fell in love with a pair of rose gold and diamond cuffs. Susan had dutifully reported this love affair to Jerry, who tracked down the artisan and gave the cuffs to June the Christmas before her death. They had been the one thing Allison wanted from her sister’s estate. They had not been found. Not that Susan hadn’t looked. After searching through June’s personal possessions, she rummaged through kitchen cupboards and drawers, thinking June might have removed the bracelets while cooking. When she found nothing there, she had searched around the washer and dryer in the laundry room, on the shelves near June’s gardening equipment in the garage, and, finally, in the tote bag where her tennis togs lay. Nothing. Susan finally concluded that June had been wearing them when she died and that they had been stolen between the time her body was cut from the car and she arrived at the morgue.

But she had always suspected that Allison didn’t believe her theory. She had even gotten the impression that Allison didn’t trust her. And that was what she wanted to discuss with her on that last day in Hancock. But Allison had swept through town, picking up her box of reminders of her sister’s life, and left, only waving to Susan as she got into the taxi to take her to the train and back to New York City.

And now she was dead. Susan shook her head. It all seemed unbelievable.

“It seems unbelievable, doesn’t it?” her husband said, echoing her thoughts.

“Yes… but… oh, here’s our breakfast.” She smiled, but wondered if she still had an appetite.

Jed hadn’t lost his, picking up his fork and digging in as soon as Trina put his plate on the table.

“You like island food,” she commented approvingly.

“Yes, too much.” Jed patted his almost flat stomach.

“Your friends like it, too,” Trina commented.

“Our friends? You mean Kathleen and Jerry?” Susan asked.

“Yes, your friends in cottage by gift shop. They sitting with police now. They order island specialties, also.”

Susan decided she didn’t have to worry about gaining weight today. She had definitely lost her appetite.

Jed and Susan could only wait for Jerry and Kathleen to join them. Somehow their food disappeared. Jed, in fact, claimed to be thinking about what he’d order for lunch when Jerry and Kathleen finally appeared.

“You won’t believe what those guys are planning to do,” Jerry said. He sat down beside Susan and reached out for the last slice of cinnamon toast in the bread basket.

“What guys?” Susan asked, glancing over at Kathleen as she did so.

“The island police apparently have different ways of doing things than we do at home,” Kathleen said.

“Yeah, you wouldn’t believe it. Apparently they think that they can just watch and wait and the murderer will somehow identify himself. Most goddamn stupid thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Jerry, I don’t think we should underestimate them. A lot of what they were saying made sense to me. They seem really relaxed and casual, but… well…”

“You’re saying that the police on the island are incompetent?” Jed asked for clarification.

“I’m saying that it would be easy to get that impression, but I really don’t think it’s true,” Kathleen answered. “They may not have a whole lot of fancy equipment to check out the crime scene, but they were asking some very good questions.”