Joshua looked uneasy, shifting his weight while struggling for a laugh. “Well, you know . . . there was that newspaper article about it. About how you helped yourself to the till. Not that we believe it, of course! You remember, Poppy was talking about it at the lobster bake. She had a newspaper from Pittsburgh that she was showing everybody.”

Patrick tried to remember exactly what was in the article Poppy had been showing around, but Liam cut straight to the chase.

“That article was from the Pittsburgh police blotter,” Liam said. “It never mentioned the priest’s name or what Patrick was working on for him, so how do you know it?”

“Poppy told me,” Joshua said simply.

Poppy was only ten yards away, holding court with the elderly aunts. Patrick needed to pin this down, because Father Murry’s name hadn’t been printed in that article, which meant someone knew a lot more about the incident than had appeared in the newspaper.

He strode toward Poppy, and the others followed. Liam snapped his fingers, summoning his bodyguards, who had been posted near the stern of the ship. Soon all of them were standing next to Poppy, who sat enthroned on a wicker chair with a huge rounded back.

“Poppy, what do you know about the crime I was accused of in Pittsburgh?” Patrick asked bluntly.

All five aunts swiveled to gape at him, while Poppy looked offended. “Excuse me, I was having a civilized conversation with my husband’s aunts about the birth of my child.”

“And I need to know how you got your hands on that newspaper from Pittsburgh.” Figuring out how that newspaper got to the island might reveal who was behind the trumped-up charges at Father Murry’s church.

Aunt Martha pushed herself to her feet to soothe the troubled waters. “I hope you know that none of us believe that nonsense,” she said, but Patrick wouldn’t let the subject drop.

He leaned in closer to Poppy. “I want to know how you got your hands on that newspaper.”

By now, plenty of others had gathered around, all of them awaiting Poppy’s answer.

“Edwin gave it to me,” she said. “He subscribes to all the major newspapers on the East Coast so he can buy antiques that get listed for sale.”

“Edwin doesn’t have two dimes to rub together,” Liam said. “Just last week he asked me for a loan. He ought to get a real job instead of trying to make a go of it buying old junk.”

“Junk?” Bertie asked. “I paid him six hundred dollars for an antique flask, and I still haven’t seen it yet.”

Patrick spoke directly to Liam. “Being broke isn’t a crime, but it’s awfully convenient that Edwin was reading the Pittsburgh police blotter. Someone tried to frame us in Pittsburgh and probably pulled some strings to get it reported in the paper. I wonder if Edwin was in Pittsburgh this summer.”