“Fun. All sorts of things happening. I’ll bet that night they blew car horns, shot off guns, beat on frying pans.”

“And to think we missed it.”

“I know you’re being sarcastic,” Mary Alice said.

When we came to the stile, Fairchild was sitting there alone. “Sit with me a few minutes,” he invited us. Mary Alice took him up on it, but I rinsed the sand from my feet, went upstairs, slipped my nightgown back on and crawled into bed. I didn’t think I would sleep, but I did. I crashed. About five o’clock, though, I awoke and began to think about the murders, to go over all that had happened. And suddenly, I was sure I knew who the muderer was. Only one piece of the puzzle remained. At six o’clock, I was knocking on Fairchild’s door.

Dr. Nachman, Haley informed us, was taking us all to the Sandestin Hilton for brunch before they headed back to Birmingham.

“How did last night go?” I poured her a cup of coffee. I had already had a couple of cups with Fairchild and Major Bissell, but I took another.

“Fine.”

I pride myself on being able to read my daughter’s moods, but I had no idea what was going on. She seemed happy, but not excited. Or maybe my mind was too much on other matters.

“What your mama wants to know is if Nephew proposed,” Mary Alice stated bluntly.

“Not exactly.” Haley smiled and turned toward her room. “I’ve got to get my stuff together.”

“Don’t forget the cappucino machine,” Sister called. And as soon as the door was closed, “How can you not exactly propose?”

“I have no idea, but I’m not going to worry about it.” Liar, liar!

The front door opened and Fred came in, his flip-flops in his hand. “Already hot out there. Laura Stamps caught me as I came into the lobby. Had me help her put some stuff in her car.”

“She hasn’t left yet, has she?” I asked.

“I don’t know. She said if we wanted to look at her apartment, she’s leaving the key with Fairchild.” He took the coffee I held out to him. “Why would we want to look at her apartment?”

“We might buy it.”

He grinned at me. “Okay, Miss Money-bags.”

“Well, you are going through with the Metal Fab merger, aren’t you?”

“I am, but I think we better hold up on Florida condos. Are there any sweetrolls?”

I put one in the microwave for him. When it dinged, I jumped.

“You okay, honey?” he asked.

“Fine.” But I wasn’t. I wanted the phone to ring; I wanted Major Bissell to tell me if I was right or wrong. I was probably wrong. I hoped I was wrong.

“You were out early this morning.”

“Walking on the beach.” Okay, Major, so I’m keeping quiet like you asked.