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  “Well, it doesn’t seem like a tough thing to sort out. Just ask Salisbury,” Harold snapped impatiently.

  “Yes, I could, couldn’t I?” Tamaya thought aloud, yet her unnerving feelings about Goldie continued to badger her.

  “I’m sure it will turn up,” assured Peri Cason. “Right now, we have a bigger problem; the killer could strike again.”

  “And this time I’m ready!” the pretentious man touted. And bending over, he pulled his trouser leg up and removed a small pistol from a holster strapped to his calf.

  “For crying out loud, are you out of your mind!” cried the lawyer.

  “On the contrary, my dear, I haven’t been more sane in my entire life.”

  ***

  “It appears that someone is missing,” Goldie said as she counted heads. “Where’s Norman?”

  “Norman went for a walk hours ago,” Wolfe replied. “I thought he’d already returned; maybe he’s napping?”

  The doubt in his voice led Mr. Dover to look at his watch. “I can’t imagine the big guy would miss cocktail hour; 6:00 p.m. straight up.”

  “5:55,” corrected Peri Cason, pointing to the clock on the mantle. “You’re fast.”

  “And maybe that old timepiece is slow,” Harold chided.

  “No, Sir, the Triton has not missed a minute since it’s been keeping time,” Salisbury said. “I believe it must be your Longine that has skipped ahead. Cheese puff?” Mr. Dover scowled as he shooed the man away. His exaggerated sigh reflected disgust.

  Tisbe sat in the oversized armchair and stared into her drink with faraway eyes, deaf to her surroundings. “Do you think Mr. Jay will return?” she asked, looking up from her glass. “Maybe I should call him.”

  “The phones are still out, Madame. Perhaps a cheese puff will lift your spirits,” Salisbury said as he offered the hors d’oeuvres.

  “Javotte and I had so many plans,” the bereaved whimpered. “Now that we’re getting a settlement on our book, we were going to make plans. All she wanted was to make plans.”

  “Who said anything about taking the deal,” cried Goldie. “We never decided on the deal; it was you two and Ray that wanted the whole enchilada at once.”

  “And now with your sister out of the picture,” mused Wolfe, “you’ll get the entire settlement all to yourself.”

  “That’s not true!” whelped the sister. “That’s cruel, just plain cruel!”

  “There’s no enchilada to split because there’s no deal!” repeated Goldie.

  “Not unless Norman wants to make a deal.” reminded Wolfe.

  Ms. Rosebud, who seemed to have woken up from a catnap, tapped her cane on the floor. “I don’t think this is a good time for business negotiations, do you?”

  “Apparently, yes,” Wolfe said snidely.

  “Frankly, I believe we have a more demanding situation to address,” the lawyer began. “Like the matter of two murdered guests.”

  “Murder, who said anything about Javotte being murdered!” exclaimed Tisbe. “It was an accident, a terrible accident. I can’t bear to think anyone would have wanted to see her gone!”

  But the lack of unanimous agreement to Tisbe’s announcement only fertilized the sister’s imagination. “Oh, you don’t think anyone actually killed her?” she asked. “Who, who would do such a thing?”

  “The same person that took out Ray!” snipped Goldie.

  “And Mr. Norman,” announced Salisbury returning with a full platter of cheese puffs.

  “What!” screamed Ms. Rosebud.

  “Mr. Norman, Madame,” Salisbury said, “it seems that he has met with a most unfortunate accident.”

  “For heaven’s sakes, man, where is he?” demanded Dover, at which point hearing the distressing news, spilled whiskey on his cravat.

  “By the trash bins, a most unpleasant place to find oneself dead,” claimed the houseman. “It appears that he may have tripped and fallen on the cobblestone.”

  “Oh no, oh no!” cried Tisbe.

  “Are you sure he’s dead?” Wolfe asked with skepticism. “The last time you delivered such a claim, Mr. Jay was indeed alive and not, as you stated, dead.”

  “No, Sir, this time, I am quite certain. Mr. Norman’s head, as hard as I imagine it was, is not that resilient.”

  “Good Lord, Salisbury!” the lawyer gripped. “Could you be any more graphic?”

  “I think not, Madame. I am merely giving you my observations.”

  “Oh, this is more than I can bear!” shrieked Tisbe.

  “Shut up, woman!” cried Goldie. “You’re making us all nervous with your comments.”

  “Thank you, Goldie; I couldn’t have said it better myself,” Harold acknowledged. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must go up to change before dinner since I smell like a distillery.”

  “Change, how can you think about changing at a time like this?” the incensed attorney demanded.

  “Oh, let him go,” interjected Tamaya. “He’ll be down in a minute. Besides, we have to take Norman to the cellar.”

  “Cellar!” disputed Peri.

  “Certainly, we can’t let him stay outside overnight. No, he must be brought inside like the others.”

  “Others?” Peri repeated.

  “Don’t be coy, Peri! She means with Ray and the old gal!” taunted Goldie.

  “Do you need help, Salisbury?” the hostess turned her attention to the houseman, who had finally set the cheese puffs on the side table.

  “I believe I will manage, Madame. I can use the garden wheelbarrow to transport him.”

  “Good thinking, Salisbury,” she said and smiled meekly.

  “Poor Norman, what a way to go. I mean years of climbing trees and stalks, never taking a header, and now, to end up falling off his own clumsy feet.” Goldie shook her head with regret.

  “Or did he?” Peri asked. “If no one minds, I’m going outside with Salisbury. It is more than likely that we have another murder on our hands.”

  “Then I’m going too, just in case Salisbury needs some help,” Wolfe echoed. However, it was not his benevolent nature that guided him but rather his suspicions concerning the lawyer. As for Peri Cason, she concealed the same misgivings about Mr. Wolfe.

  “So, it’s just us three ladies,” Goldie acknowledged, pushing the platter of cheese puffs in her direction. She popped one in her mouth just as she caught Tisbe turning away. “What?” implored the older woman wiping her greasy fingers on her napkin.

  “Nothing,” Tisbe lied.

  “No, really, what? You were staring at me! What’s the matter?”

  “No, I wasn’t!” Tisbe said.

  “Yes, you were,” concurred Ms. Rosebud. “I saw you staring.”

  “See, you’re a liar!” squealed Goldie and then grabbing another cheese puff she stuffed the entire pastry into her mouth and slowly chewed while making deliberate exaggerations with her lips.

  “It’s just that I was thinking; one of us could be the murderer,” Tisbe alleged.

  “Is that all?” countered the hostess. “I thought it was something else.”

  “Like what?” Tisbe asked, turning her mouth downward.

  “That you were wondering how to kill me!” suggested Goldie with a sinister tone.

  The sister sprang up in her chair as if suddenly inflating. “You, why would I want to kill you?”

  “To get me out of the way, after all, I am in the way of you getting the deal you want,” Goldie charged.

  “And I am in the way of you getting the deal that you want!” retorted Tisbe wagging her finger.

  “Oh bravo!” quipped Tamaya, delighted by the exchange of accusations. “This is a regular chess match, and it’s clear that you’re both in check. But with Norman headed to the wine cellar, you have only Mr. Wolfe to contend with!”

 
; “It sounds like you’re accusing one of us as being the killer!” growled Goldie.

  “Oh, heavens, I was only joining in the fun,” taunted the hostess. “How could such sweet old ladies be killers?”

  “Easy,” said Harold adding to the conversation. His unexpected interruption caused Ms. Rosebud to clasp her hand to her heart.

  “There you go again, sneaking around!” cringed Tamaya.

  “For your information, I was not sneaking, I was simply walking quietly,” Dover explained. He had changed into a well-pressed shrimp colored shirt, black pleated trousers, and smelling of musk-scented aftershave.

  “Phew, what’s that? Is that you, Dover?” Goldie asked, holding her nose.

  “If you mean, am I wearing a new men’s cologne, the answer is yes.”

  “Well, don’t sit next to me,” she declared. “You smell sort of like the outdoors. Moose-like,” she snickered. “Like a big pink moose!”

  “I think it’s a very nice smell,” defended Tisbe. “Very manly.”

  “Thank you, Tisbe,” Harold said and sat down in a chair between the hostess and Tisbe. “Now, I was going to say that there is no reason an elderly woman couldn’t be a killer.”

  “He’s right, you know,” interrupted Tamaya. “I have many books where the old woman is not as innocent as one would like to imagine. Just the other day, I was reading that book about those two adorable children lured into the cottage of…”

  “Spare me the bedtime story,” interjected Goldie. “We all know the tale of Hansel and Gretel.”

  “Case in point,” Harold smirked. “So, you must admit, we cannot exclude anyone by proxy of age or gender.”

  “I do wish Salisbury would return and bring us more cheese puffs,” Ms. Rosebud lamented with full intentions of changing the subject. Trading barbs with Harold was more than exhausting. She leaned wearily against the handle and raised herself from the chair. “What could be taking them so long?”

  Goldie shrugged her response and then eyed Ms. Rosebud as she propped her cane against the armrest and wandered over to the mantle. She picked up the clock and then set it down.

  “Well, I’ll be,” exclaimed the older woman. “I thought you couldn’t walk without your longnecked companion.” She reached over and pulled the cane to get a better look. Custom made with a white beechwood shaft, classic derby handle, and pearl collar. “Fancy!” she cooed. “It’s even got little rubber tips.” Goldie lifted the end for Tisbe to see.

  “Oh, I think you’d better get another tip, Dear, this one seems to be discolored,” remarked Tisbe pointing out the flaw. But there was something in the tone that prevented Tamaya from finding a polite response. Instead, she turned to look, but in her haste lost her footing.

  “Heavens!” exclaimed the spinster. “You’re lucky the mantle shelf was there for you to grab!”

  Tamaya nodded as Goldie handed the woman back her cane, eyeing her with distrust. “I’m not as sure-footed as I used to be,” Tamaya explained. “I often react too quickly, and then, the next thing you know, I’m like a fish out of water.”

  “Or up the creek without a paddle,” mocked Goldie.

  “I don’t know, I thought you did a great job without that thing the night at the harbor bar,” Harold said.

  “Harbor bar?” Goldie asked with interest. “You mean to tell me we’ve been held up in this stuffy house and not too far from here is a tavern?”

  “Oh yes,” piped in Tisbe. “Right before we arrived, Javotte and I stopped in for a glass of port.”

  “Port my eye,” winked Harold.

  “Well it was, you can ask my sist…” but the words suddenly got caught in her throat, and she stopped abruptly. “It was port,” she whispered. “Just port.”

  Goldie turned her nose up at the sister and sat back quite content, resting her feet on the ottoman. She wriggled about for a moment until she found the most comfortable position and sighed like a dog. “I better not get too comfy,” she announced, “look who’s back!” The old woman grinned, observing the strangely composed entrance of both Wolfe and Peri Cason.

  “Well, he’s dead all right,” admitted Wolfe. “Bloody mess too. Poor guy, whoever killed him must have come up from behind. A man like Norman was too strong to have been taken down unless surprised.”

  “But don’t you think he would have heard someone approaching?” Tisbe asked.

  “Not if the person snuck up, he was hard of hearing. Didn’t you notice his hearing aid?” Peri looked around the room, but there was not a glimmer of recognition to her statement.

  “Hadn’t noticed,” shrugged Goldie. “All I know is he was a decent guy.”

  “Which also means one of us must be the killer,” fretted Tisbe.

  “Or not, maybe it was someone else. Someone who had it in for you!” squealed Goldie pointing at Ms. Rosebud. “Someone that wanted to ruin your reputation as being the worst party-giver EVER!”

  Wolfe winked at Goldie and smirked. “Well,” he said, “there’s only one thing left to do. No one can leave this room until the police arrive.”

  “No one?” remarked the hostess. “Oh, we must make an exception for Salisbury. If not, we’ll all be very sorry if he can’t continue to do his duties.”

  “I agree, Salisbury can leave, but no one else,” proclaimed Goldie, who was looking at the empty platter of cheese puffs.

  All found this to be acceptable. “Well then, perhaps it is time to get down to serious business. I suggest we go around the room and offer a reason and motive as to who the killer could be. If you all agree, I will take notes,” suggested the lawyer.

  “That seems fair,” Ms. Rosebud said. “Like an old fashion parlor game!”

  “And then what?” asked Wolfe ignoring the hostess’s insipid remark.

  “We’ll leave that up to the police,” blurted Tisbe.

  A strain of discomfort settled around the room as if someone had suddenly released a most unpleasant smell, yet no one admitted that it had the stink of danger.

  Chapter 10

  Two months earlier

  “Reggie, I thought we brought you up better!” Jay waved the stolen book in front of the boy who, only moments ago, was entertaining a peaceful breakfast.

  “Why do you want to go and ruin his eggs?” the grandmother asked, snatching the book away. “Let him eat first and then wallop him!” She scanned the cover before setting it aside. “Looks old, maybe valuable,” she remarked, eyeing the boy. Then without warning, she slapped the back of his head.

  “Grandma! What’d you do that for?”

  “For being a thief!” she said and swatted him with the dishcloth.

  Jay picked the book up off the table and began to leaf through. Although the pages were dry and yellowing, the gold letters still shimmered. “I ought to make you return this book yourself and confess that you stole it!” he threatened. “The only reason I won’t make you confront Tamaya Rosebud is that we live on this island with her, and it would be too damn humiliating if she knew my boy was a common criminal.”

  “What are you going to do, Jay?” asked the old woman. She was beginning to assess the book as possessing more than words.

  “It needs to go back to where it belongs; it’s got to be returned,” gripped the father, breaking off in a tenor of disgust.

  The old woman eyed her grandson as a cat eyes a mouse. “Are there more of these?”

  “Mother!” exclaimed the man.

  “I was only asking. I’ve heard that books like this cost quite a bit of money. I imagine Ms. Rosebud must be at her wit’s end searching for it.”

  Reggie turned towards his grandmother, “Probably doesn’t even know its missing,” he said.

  “Doesn’t know?” the woman repeated.

  “Most likely not, she’s got a whole library full of books like these,” he confessed wh
ile interpreting her expression. But he couldn’t tell what she was thinking since she was wearing her poker face. She was the happiest when she was feeding someone. However, right now, she was not feeling generous towards her grandson and lifted his plate away. He discovered at an early age that his grandmother was a force to be reckoned with, and a voice in his head told him to be still. He inched back in his chair as his father sat down and reached for the coffee set before him.

  “Careful, it’s hot,” she cautioned.

  He acknowledged the warning with a wink and slurped. “It’s good, Ma.” He clutched the mug and, without looking up, spoke. “Take the book back, and don’t get caught.”

  “How?”

  “I don’t know how but take it back.”

  “Grandma, tell him I can’t.”

  “What do you mean you can’t?” the grandmother challenged. “You figured out how to get it the first time.” Then, just for good measure, the old lady slapped the boy on the back of the head.

  “Grandma, why’d you do that?”

  “To remind you that you’d better listen to your father!” she snapped and handed him the book.

  Stealing something seemed much easier than returning it. When he snuck into the house by way of the back window, there was a thrill. But now that he had to get it back inside, the excitement was extinguished. At least he didn’t have to take it back right away, neither one of them said when. For an instant, he felt relief as he made his move towards a formal atonement. “Okay, Grandma, okay.”

  “That’s my boy, Reggie! Now, go on up to the lighthouse and get on with your watch.” Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw his father smile, but he didn’t dare turn to look. A truce had been declared, and for now, he was in the clear.

  Chapter 11

  It was a strange sight when Salisbury returned to the library. It was not the tray of tea sandwiches, but rather the book it was balancing on that was out of place. “I found this when I was straightening up,” the houseman said, setting the platter on the table. He handed the book to Ms. Rosebud and straddled the empty tray by his side.