There was a long silence, finally broken by Ted. “Another homicide?”

“So it seems,” said Lucy.

“That does it. We’re never going home,” said Bob, shaking his head. “Being involved in one murder is bad enough, but two . . . ? This is a legal nightmare.”

“Is that all you can say?” demanded Rachel. “This isn’t about us. Two people are dead, two people we knew and liked. Two friends. Two young friends. It’s tragic.”

“I can’t believe it’s happening,” said Sue.

“That’s a normal reaction,” said Rachel. “It’s going to take time to process. It takes time for the reality of death to really sink in.”

“And they say America is violent,” offered Sid.

“Isn’t France supposed to have a much lower murder rate than the U.S.?” demanded Ted.

“That’s what I’ve heard,” said Pam.

“Something’s going on,” said Sue, “and somehow we’re involved.”

If you only knew the half of it, thought Lucy, cradling the cup of hot tea in both hands and inhaling the grassy, herbal scent. She was convinced they had stumbled into something very big and very bad, and she was afraid they weren’t going to escape unscathed.

Maybe it was the tea, or maybe it was some sort of subconscious effort by her brain to delay processing Sylvie’s death, but Lucy slept soundly right through the night and woke in the morning, surprised to find she felt refreshed and optimistic. She had known Chef Larry only in a casual way, she realized, which made it almost impossible to investigate his murder. But Sylvie, on the other hand, was her daughter’s roommate, and Lucy had much better access to information about her. Elizabeth maintained that Sylvie had been very private, but Lucy suspected her daughter knew more about her roommate than she realized. This time she had a real opportunity to get to the bottom of things, and she was determined to take advantage of it. Her primary motive was to protect her daughter. She knew she wouldn’t feel that Elizabeth was safe until whoever had killed Sylvie was caught and jailed, but she was also convinced that the only way she would ever see Tinker’s Cove again was if she solved both murders. She had a hunch the two deaths were connected, perhaps even committed by the same killer. The police didn’t seem to be making much headway, and they wouldn’t get their passports back until the matter was resolved.

Now all that remained was deciding on a plan of action. She yawned and stretched and got out of bed and, tiptoeing past her sleeping husband and daughter, went into the kitchen to start the coffeepot. She had just come back from the bathroom and was pouring herself a cup when Elizabeth joined her.

“You’re up early,” said Lucy.

“I’ve got to be at work by eight,” said Elizabeth.