“I don’t do business over the phone.”

“All right, Mr. Crockett.” She decided she’d pushed him as far as she dared: she didn’t want to alienate him. “When do you want me to come see you?”

“Tomorrow. Come for the day, spend the night. We’ll talk. You fly, right? We’ve got an airstrip on the island. No lights, but it should do, especially for a daredevil like you. Roger’ll give you directions.”

“Tomorrow’s impossible.”

“Nothing’s impossible.”

The light-voiced man came on the line and gave Ashley directions to an island in Blue Hill Bay. It was named—appropriately, she thought—Badger Rock.

Dinner was promptly at seven, but she could be expected anytime before then.

David hobbled around the farmhouse kitchen, trying to get used to his crutches and the awkward weight of his cast. He’d just been released from the hospital. In all his years of hard work and rough play, he’d never broken any bones, but one swipe from a crazy old man and he was down. It pissed him off.

He flopped down at the kitchen table, sweating and frustrated. He’d had to call his buddy Iggy to help out with the animals. Fruit was rotting on the trees, some of the fall crops needed harvesting. There was work to be done, dammit. Where the hell was Barky?

A knock on the door roused him from his private bitch session. He swore, not feeling like any company. The screen door opened up anyway, and a beautiful golden-eyed woman stuck her head in and smiled. “May I come in?”

“Yeah—sure.” He reached for the crutches.

Shutting the screen door softly behind her, she stepped into the kitchen. She was of average height and wore an ivory linen dress that accentuated the creaminess of her skin. She had round, heavy breasts and a small waist and golden hair. Everything about her exuded money. Her smile was elegant, but tentative, as if she weren’t quite sure she ought to be smiling. “My name’s Sarah Balaton. I—” Her eyes widened as he rose up on his crutches. “Oh, my God. What happened?”

“Dumb accident. You’re the lady who called Ash about the tiara and the choker?”

Still staring at his broken leg, she nodded. “And you’re David Wakefield.”

“In several pieces, but, yeah, that’s me.”

“I...don’t know what to say.”

“No need to say anything—except why you’re here.”

She looked at him, and he was surprised to see how pale she was. Did he look that bad? She said uneasily, “It’s a long story.”

He grinned. “I’ve got nothing but time.”

Reluctantly, she sat across from him at the table and, plucking a dried-up marigold out of a cheap vase, told him about seeing the cover piece on his sister, her reaction, and, finally, her decision to telephone Ashley. “It was an outrageous thing to do,” she admitted. “I’m sure neither you nor your sister is responsible for whatever happened to the tiara and the choker after Judith Land wore them at the Christmas ball in Vienna.”