“Flynn,” Ned said weakly. “Don’t.”

“No, Ned, this is bullshit.” Flynn faced me once more. “All day we’ve done what you asked. We played along with your pointless interviews, and where did it get us? I told you who’s responsible for all this hours ago.” Flynn’s gaze slid from me to Abella. “Why haven’t you pressed charges against her? Why haven’t you hauled her ass to prison? The fact that she’s still here and my brother’s not, it makes me fucking sick. Get her out of here!” Flynn roared. “What the hell are you waiting for?”

All the color drained from Abella’s face. She broke away from Ned and backed up unsteadily until she reached the staircase banister, where, without a word, she threw up on the lustrous floor.

“Jesus,” Flynn muttered with loathing as Norton rushed off to get his cleaning supplies. “I’m done following your orders. This is our house.”

Not yet it’s not. “This is an active investigation, so you will follow my orders, Mr. Sinclair.”

“You’re not going to allow this, are you, Wellington?” said Bebe, and one by one every person in the hall transferred their gaze to Tim.

There were no dirty looks for Timmy Wellington. All day long he’d been developing relationships with the family and their guests. They had camaraderie; as far as the Sinclairs were concerned, Tim was on their side. I’d assumed his efforts were strategic, another impressive trick up his sleeve. I wasn’t so sure anymore.

“That’s enough,” I said to Bebe and Flynn before Tim could reply. That’s when Norton cleared his throat.

In one hand, Philip Norton held a bucket. The other clutched a bottle of wine. Fresh from the fridge, it glistened with condensation. Tim wrinkled his brow as he looked from the bottle back to Norton’s face.

“Are you sure?” Norton said. “Won’t you reconsider, given the day they’ve had?”

They, not we. I didn’t expect Norton to clink glasses with the others, but considering how upset he’d been that morning and how well he knew Jasper, it was a strange choice of words. They suggested he alone was free of emotion. Distanced him from the family.

“It’s tradition,” he went on. “The cocktails, the formal attire. It might seem trivial to you, but I know it would mean a lot to Mrs. Sinclair to be doing something normal with the family. It’s a comfort, if you know what I mean.”

I didn’t bother pointing out that Camilla, still resting upstairs, hadn’t been with her family for hours. I was too busy wondering why Norton was dead set on plying the family with drinks. “I’m sorry,” I said, “but it isn’t appropriate.”

Suddenly, Flynn was in my face. “I thought I made myself clear. You don’t tell us what to do.”

Tim pushed his way between us. “Cool it, Mr. Sinclair. Relax. He’s fine.”

That last part, Tim meant for me. I wasn’t sure why, at first. Then I felt an explosion of pain and realized with a start my hand was once again on my gun.