I thought about the moment on the bridge when I knew the killer was close to us, and I shivered.

“We’re gone,” Haley said, coming out on the balcony.

“You look beautiful,” Frances said. “Turn around and let me see that dress.”

Haley swirled and I noticed that Philip Nachman had come to the door and was smiling at her. The look on his face was that of a man deeply in love. Surely, I thought, they could work things out.

In a few minutes, Berry West knocked at the door.

“How’s Jason?” was the first thing Frances wanted to know as he came in.

“He seems okay. He and some lady have gone for a ride on his boat.”

“Oh.” There was no disguising the disappointment in Frances’s voice.

“I’m ready,” Sister said, sailing into the room.

“And you look very pretty,” Berry said admiringly.

Sister bought it. She smiled down at Berry as if she could eat him with a spoon. “You look mighty spiffy yourself.”

He looked baldheaded and Bernice’s theory of the baldheaded murderer popped right up.

“Sister,” I said, “why don’t y’all stay here. Berry, don’t you like to play poker? We could call Steak ’Em and have dinner delivered.”

“We’ve got reservations, Patricia Anne.” Berry looked at Sister. “Unless you’d rather, of course.”

“Of course not.” She gave me her have-you-lost-your-mind look and stepped out into the hall. “Hold that elevator!” she screeched to someone.

And they were gone.

“What was that about?” Frances asked.

“He’s baldheaded. I told you about Bernice’s dream.”

Frances gave me her version of have-you-lost-your-mind.

“Well, you said to trust your intuition.”

“True. But Berry was in Birmingham when Millicent was killed and besides we’ve already got the motive, Blue Bay, and neither Mary Alice nor Berry has any connection with that.”

“Just Jason, Eddie, and Fairchild. And Laura.”

“And it absolutely could not have been Jason.”

By this time we were back in the living room on the sofa. “Frances,” I asked, “have you considered cutting down on your estrogen?”

Chapter 18

Chapter 18

After such a busy day, we welcomed a quiet evening. And that was what we had. After Mary Alice left with Berry to go dancing, Frances and I went to Delchamps and picked up salad and sandwich stuff. Fred went next door to see if Fairchild wanted to join us and reported back that Fairchild was surrounded by women who seemed to be hand-feeding him all sorts of delicacies including smoked oysters that had looked delicious. But didn’t Fairchild have high blood pressure?

“Not as high as it’s going to be,” I said.

“When I’m widowed, I want to be living down here,” Fred declared. He caught the olive I hand-fed him through the air. “Ahhh, olives!”