Miss Tilley laughed. “Old Sam hated family squabbles, and he had plenty of them with his wife’s family, as I remember. He left the whole kit and caboodle to the two boys, Sam and Tom.”

“That means Sam’s brother, Tom, might have quite a lot to gain.”

“That nasty Viennese doctor probably had a name for it,” said the old woman.

“Sibling rivalry,” agreed Lucy. “Sam always did overshadow Tom.”

“Now Tom will be able to run Country Cousins any way he sees fit,” said Miss Tilley, unloading her basket of groceries onto the conveyor belt. “I wonder if there will be any changes.”

“I wonder,” said Lucy, shaking off the anxious feeling she got when she thought about going back to work. Chances were, she thought as she watched the girl ring up Miss Tilley’s order, that Sam Miller’s death had something to do with Country Cousins. After all, that’s where his body was found. Maybe it was where his murderer would be found, too.

For the rest of the day Lucy tried not to think about Country Cousins. She was scheduled to work at five, and as the afternoon wore on, she began to feel tense and uneasy.

When the old Regulator in the kitchen read 4:45, she climbed into her little Subaru, feeling exactly the way she had the day she went to the dentist to have her wisdom teeth pulled. As she drove the familiar route, she couldn’t help thinking about Sam again. He might have been killed because he saw something he shouldn’t have. Nobody in Tinker’s Cove talked about it much, but like many coastal communities, the little town had had its share of smugglers and mooncussers.

The Pennysaver occasionally reported drug busts made by the Coast Guard, so Lucy knew Tinker’s Cove wasn’t immune to illegal traffic, but she didn’t think she knew anyone who was involved. Country Cousins itself imported goods from all over the world, and Lucy, with her flair for the dramatic, had occasionally wondered if something a little more potent might be coming in along with the Peruvian knitwear and Mexican rugs.

As she parked in her usual spot, she wished it wouldn’t get dark quite so early. Anyone could be lurking out there, in the dark beyond the bright lights. They certainly hadn’t done much for Sam Miller, and she felt like a sitting duck as she crossed the brightly lit area to the safety of the warehouse.

Walking down the hall, Lucy noticed a group of women clustered around the bulletin board in the break room.

“What’s up?” she asked Beverly.

“It’s just a memo saying the police are investigating Sam’s death and asking everyone to cooperate.”

“Oh, no,” wailed Lucy. “I don’t think I can go through that again.”

“I’m sure it’s just a formality,” Bev reassured her. “I haven’t seen any sign of police.”