I felt no empathy for Flynn, none at all. I didn’t pity him for the terrible situation his father left him in. It meant nothing that Flynn and Bebe’s attempts to take Camilla’s and Jasper’s money were fueled by a desire to keep the family’s legacy alive. Yes, they’d invested years of their lives in the business, while Jasper’s entire career to date had gone to ensuring some other company’s success. None of that justified how they treated their brother, or their grandmother, or anyone else. Their hardships didn’t make the behavior these sick siblings exhibited forgivable. Jasper was gone. He was gone and his girlfriend lay dead on the floor.

“Philip,” Bebe said with a quiver in her voice, “take Nana to the library so she can lie down.” Camilla, it seemed, had entered some sort of trance. A puddle of drool glistened at the corner of her mouth and her wineglass hung precariously from her fingers. Norton wasted no time in carrying out the request. With a few soothing words he coaxed Camilla up, took her hands in his, and guided her from the room. My eyes lingered on her glass, the wine it contained was paler than the chardonnay the others guzzled around her.

“She doesn’t look good.” I heard Camilla’s shallow, labored breathing as she passed, and I stopped them at the door. “Mrs. Sinclair,” I said, “are you all right?”

The old woman’s lips fluttered. Her breath smelled oddly sweet.

“It’s the medication,” said Norton. “It makes her tired. She just needs to rest.”

“Should she be drinking while she’s undergoing treatment? You’ve been serving her wine.”

“What, that? It’s watered down. There’s hardly any wine in it at all.”

“You mix it in the kitchen?”

“Easier that way.”

“How often does she take them?” I watched his face. “The drugs.”

“Two . . . no, three times a day.” Nobody in the room challenged him. No one said a word. I doubted they had a clue what her cancer treatment entailed. Only Jasper would have bothered to ask.

“We should keep an eye on her,” I said, stepping aside to let them pass.

Norton nodded as he led Camilla into the hall and then the library, where he settled her on the couch and covered her with a blanket. Lying on her back, the old woman looked like a corpse.

In the parlor Flynn’s cigarette was down to the filter. Again the lights flickered. I hadn’t thought to ask Norton if the house had a generator.

Flynn said, “How about a little Q and A?” His face was red and he was sweating heavily. The man was plainly drunk. “I came clean, now it’s Ned’s turn. Tell me, sweetheart, what’s so enticing about my sister? Is it her delicate features? Her sweet-natured personality? It sure isn’t her money. God knows she’s got none of that.”

I glanced at Bebe, who was looking at her brother goggle-eyed. She wasn’t over the shock of Flynn’s bombshell news, and in her delayed response her soon-to-be ex-husband saw an opening.