“Mrs. Sinclair,” I ventured for the third time. “Ma’am? I need you to go downstairs. Sit down, let Mr. Norton get you a cup of tea.” If I’m being honest, I was worried about her health. Her skin was like old newspaper, flaky and gray. “I have to insist,” I said.

I’d expected her to leave the room when we got to the island. I could understand why she’d stayed before that, but most people perceive the police’s arrival as a transfer of responsibility. We take the situation out of their hands, along with a heaping portion of the proximate horror, and they’re happy to let us. Not Jasper’s grandmother. She stayed put.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have preconceptions about what these people in their floating ivory tower would be like. I thought I knew what I was dealing with, assumed they’d be collectively cold, or so shattered they couldn’t get a word out through the sobs. People with that kind of wealth often feel untouchable, and it’s a shock when they discover they’re not. So far, Camilla Sinclair had maintained an unflappable demeanor, but I found it odd she’d made an effort to look presentable. Her crisp white shirt and pink-checkered slacks were tailored to complement her thin frame, and she’d dabbed on pink lipstick to match. Maybe it was habit for women of her generation to put themselves together no matter what. Either she’d roused herself very early, before the screaming started, or she’d left Jasper’s room after all and, despite her grief, took the time to do herself up.

“My grandson has vanished,” Camilla said, her gaze still on the bed. “And you’re suggesting that I have a cup of tea?”

“I know how upsetting this must be.” I stepped into her line of vision. The woman had stared at that bloodstain long enough. “But we need to find out what happened here, and there are procedures I have to follow. I’m sure you can appreciate that.”

The crinkled corners of her mouth dipped downward and her blue eyes flashed. “That’s your job,” she snapped. “I expect you to do it. My presence has no bearing on that.”

“I’m afraid you’re mistaken. Until we’re able to determine otherwise, we’re working under the assumption that a crime has been committed here. Even the slightest misstep could disrupt the scene, a scene that may be contaminated already.” I paused to let her picture Abella and Norton stomping around the room before our arrival. “It’s important we get this right. If your grandson is hurt—”

“If!”

“—then we have to make sure we do things by the book. There’ll be attorneys involved here, down the line. If Jasper was attacked, whoever did it will be represented by someone determined to identify every mistake we make and use them against us to dismiss our findings. To dismiss the charge.”

Bulldog attorneys and gainful justice. I suspected this was language Mrs. Sinclair could understand, and immediately saw I was right. “His things,” she said. “He has a beautiful gold watch that belonged to my husband. A silver-plated lighter from my mother. I don’t want you taking them. Tell the others. Everything belonging to Jasper stays here.”