“Minus the pompoms,” Lizzie said.
We laughed and the serious vibe was broken for the moment. Emily poured another round of wine, which helped enormously. Lizzie wanted to hear more about the necklace, so we described it to her. I got a few laughs and shudders when I told them how I’d found the darn thing in the darkest, least accessible place in Jesse’s house.
Marigold sighed. “The necklace sounds fantastic, but I hate to think your uncle was killed because of it.”
“I hate it, too,” Jane said.
“You really think someone killed him?” Lizzie asked. “It wasn’t a heart attack?”
Since they knew the basics, Jane shared the news about the autopsy report. “There’s no way he took a bunch of pills on his own,” Jane said. “We think someone drugged him.”
I sighed but didn’t point out that she had just revealed the one piece of information we’d agreed to hold back. Wine had a way of making Jane—and everyone else in the world—indiscreet, so I could only hope that our friends would be satisfied talking about this with each other and not with anyone outside of our little group.
Oh, who was I kidding? I needed to make it clear all over again just exactly what the stakes were.
“Excuse me,” I said, lightly tapping my spoon against my wineglass. “But that little piece of information about the pills is exactly what you cannot repeat outside of this room.”
“Oh no,” Jane said, slapping her forehead. “Shannon’s right. Cone of silence, okay? Or Eric will really be mad.”
“Yeah, really mad,” I repeated. “So mum’s the word.”
“Poor Shannon,” Marigold said, rubbing my shoulder. “I know you’re worried, but you can trust us to be discreet.”
I smiled at her. “Thanks, Marigold.” She could read people’s emotions better than any psychic in the world.
“But who would do such a thing to Jesse?” Emily wondered, bringing us back to the subject at hand.
“That’s the fifty-thousand-dollar question,” Jane said. “Who did it?”
“And why?” Lizzie added.
I cleared my throat. “I made a list.”
They all gaped at me and Emily laughed. “That’s our girl.”
*
Early Friday morning, I was surprised when Mac knocked on my door and invited me to walk with him down to the Cozy Cove for breakfast. The sky was clear but the air was cold and crisp as we made our way toward the town square. We chatted about his new house and our upcoming meeting with the Planning Commission. I’d made a list of all the additional changes we’d talked about and had gone over the list with my dad. He was even more familiar with the personalities involved and would know what changes they would—and would not—allow us to make to the lighthouse mansion, our town’s beloved landmark.
Mac insisted that it wouldn’t bother him if they turned down one thing or another. As he’d told me the other day when we drove out to see the place, he didn’t plan to change much of the outside of the building. He just wanted a comfortable home on the inside. Free of rats, of course.
“I’m with you there,” I said, shivering a little at the memory of that tiny, squealing rodent skittering across the wood-plank floor. Once we were seated and our coffee was poured, I added, “We’ll get everything approved, I guarantee it.”
“I’m not worried,” he said. “Between you, with your awe-inspiring ability to secure all those permits and read those blueprints, and me along to dazzle them with my fancy footwork, they’ll be putty in our hands.”
I smiled broadly, held up my coffee mug, and we toasted our two-pronged plan of attack. The Commission members wouldn’t know what hit them.
*
Saturday was Jane’s gala grand opening and everyone in Lighthouse Cove was invited to the party. Tonight would be the first time Jane welcomed guests to the Hennessey House Bed-and-Breakfast. Besides the guests who would be checking in for the first time, the entire town would be stopping by to wish Jane well. Those who hadn’t yet gotten a look inside the town’s newest, most elegant establishment were eager to see it.
It had taken me and Jane and my crew almost three years to renovate her grandmother’s disheveled old mansion and turn it into a world-class small hotel. The place had been standing there for over one hundred and fifty years, and in that time, it had been a family home, a brothel, a boardinghouse, a private residence, and finally an elegant bed-and-breakfast.