He closed the door on Graham’s murder. “The main clubhouse. Can you stay here? Keep the scene secure?” His troubled gaze landed on Sumner, then he caught my gaze. Could I take care of Sumner?

“Yes.” To all his questions. This was not my first body. I knelt next to my friend.

Her shoulders slumped. Her head hung. And her back shuddered as if she fought racking sobs.

Anarchy offered me an approving nod, then strode toward the main building.

I rubbed a gentle circle on Sumner’s back.

“It can’t be true,” she moaned.

It was. But that wasn’t exactly comforting. I searched for something to say. I should have some idea. After all, I’d found my first husband’s body. Hoping for inspiration, I breathed deep. The sweetness of the morning had soured, tainted by blood and death and the impending investigation. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“Who would do this? Everyone loved Graham.”

“They did.” It was a good thing I wasn’t Pinocchio. My nose would have grown by two feet just this morning.

At eight o’clock, the guests gathered in the dining room at the clubhouse.

Anarchy and a cluster of deputies gathered near the coffee urn. The rest of us poked at eggs and barely tasted Misty’s cinnamon rolls.

I sipped coffee and wished I was still in Italy.

“What happened, Ellison?” asked Charlie. His usually clear eyes were rimmed with red and his cheeks were the color of old fish.

I shared a table for four with Charlie, Libba, and Buffy. “I don’t know.”

“Your cabin is next to theirs.” Libba looked almost as rough as her boyfriend. She’d added blush to her cheeks and mascara to her tired eyes. “Surely you heard something.”

“Not over that air conditioner.”

“Bill saw Sumner running around five-thirty.” Compared to Libba and Charlie, Buffy looked positively bright eyed.

And she’d told me something Anarchy would want to know. I made a mental note to share.

“He saw her on his way up here to fill his thermos with coffee. They said hello, then he went fishing.”

It was just after six when I’d found Graham’s body. That gave the killer approximately thirty minutes. “Did Bill come back to the cabin after he got coffee?”

“He went fishing. The police pulled him off the water. He told me then.” She frowned. “I can’t believe you and your detective husband missed the sound of a gunshot.”

“You know the roar of the crowd when the Chiefs score a touchdown?”

She nodded.

“Our air conditioner is louder. Someone could wander cabin to cabin with a howitzer, and we’d miss the whole thing.”

She leaned forward. “Who does your husband suspect?”

Libba and Charlie lifted their heavy heads and joined Buffy in staring at me.

“I don’t know that he suspects anyone.”

Buffy pursed her lips. “The police asked us not to leave.”