“Of course, he was,” the widow said. “And a very good one, too.” She leaned forward, as if the conversation had veered into something confidential. “But he was no Gregory Peck, Mr. Keegan.” She lifted the cup from her saucer and then put it back. “He wasn’t even a Joseph Cotten.” She lifted the cup again and took a fussy sip. “Poor Nigel never got his big break,” she said. “He was all B-films and television. There’s no real money in that.”

KEEGAN WAS HEADING across the lawn to Ormsby’s back gate when Eve’s voice called out his name. He stopped and turned and looked for her, shading his eyes with one hand. She stood in a back portico at the far end of the pool, almost invisible in the looming late-afternoon shadows. She looked behind her at the glass-paned doors and then waved him over.

Keegan looked up at his cottage and back in the direction from which he’d come. What were the chances the police had posted someone to keep an eye on the place? It seemed unlikely—but, still, he’d best not be seen talking to Eve in any way that looked suspicious. Keegan turned and walked toward her, around the pool. He walked slowly, casually, in case there were witnesses. As he drew nearer, he worried that she’d rush to him, out in the open, and he tried to warn her away with his eyes—but she stayed where she was, pressed back against the closed door.

He slipped through the small rose garden beyond the pool and up the steps to where she waited. Eve wore a skirt and a simple pale blue blouse, both wrinkled, as though she’d slept in them. Her face was pale, her eyes red and glassy—but from crying or too much medication? Keegan couldn’t guess.

Now that he was close to her, she seemed as wary as he was, which he supposed was a good sign. She kept close to the mansion, back pressed to the door, like a worried child clinging to the edge of a pool. At least no one posted to watch the place would likely see her there in the shade.

“Any cops still around?” Keegan said, when he was close enough to speak in something near a whisper.

“They’re all gone,” she said, keeping her own voice low. “My aunt shooed them away. She didn’t want them mucking up the place.”

“Great,” Keegan said. He blew out a breath. “That’s a good sign.”

Eve seemed bewildered. “Why?” she said. Her eyes, Keegan thought, looked a bit unfocused. “What’s good about it?”

He put his hands on her shoulders. She was trembling a little, but she didn’t pull away from him. “It means they don’t suspect anything beyond what’s on the face of it,” he told her. “They think the killer is long gone.”

Eve bit her lip and nodded. It was hard for Keegan to read her mood. “What do we do now?” she asked.