“No, I’ve been visiting for a few days. This is Gala Wilde, whose house this is.”

“Why are there two guns on the island, there?” the detective asked.

“We both fired at the bear. Gala got here first and shot her twice in the back with a .380. I arrived and shot her twice in the head with a .45.”

“That would do it,” the deputy said. “Who’s the guy under the bear?”

“His name is Boris Tirov. He’s Ms. Wilde’s ex-husband, who has been harassing and threatening her since their divorce last year.”

“I read about him in the newspaper,” the detective said. “And I interviewed him after he got shot on his movie set. He struck me as crazy.”

“He struck me that way, too,” Stone said. “He’s been threatening me, as well. He thought I cost him a deal at a movie studio.”

“Are you something in the movies?”

“No, I’m an attorney in New York. I serve on the board of a movie studio in Los Angeles.”

“Ms. Wilde,” Rhea said, “you got anything to add to Mr. Barrington’s account of things?”

Gala shook her head.

The detective looked at his watch. “We ought to have an ambulance here any minute now. I don’t know what the hell we’re going to do with that bear. I’ve got a man working on it, though. Maybe the three of us can get it off Mr. Tirov, so we can check his vital signs?”

“It’s worth a try,” Stone said. “She must weigh three hundred and fifty pounds.”

The three men stood on one side of the bear, grabbed its legs and, with a great deal of effort, rolled it off Tirov.

“That’s a he-bear,” the deputy said, pointing. He picked up Tirov’s wrist. “No pulse.”

Two EMTs carrying a litter came into the kitchen. They set it down and regarded the mauled man before them. “Damn,” the older of the two said. “Once I saw the body of a guy who had been mauled by a tiger. It wasn’t as bad as this.” He knelt beside Tirov and pressed a stethoscope to the unwounded side of his neck. “Deceased,” he said. “How long, you reckon?”

“Maybe fifteen minutes,” Stone said. “I checked his pulse after I shot the bear.”

“There’ll be a crime scene investigation team here pretty soon,” Rhea said. As he spoke, a team of others arrived, carrying luggage.

“Hey, Tom,” their leader said to Rhea.

“Hey, Mack. This is Mr. Barrington and Ms. Wilde. That fellow over yonder is named Boris Tirov.”

“Is this how you found him?”

“Nope, he was under the bear when we got here. We had to move him to see if Tirov was still alive. He wasn’t. Hope we didn’t mess up your scene too much.”