The family room held the bulk of the people. To its immediate left was an enormous dining room, windows facing the front lawn. It was also packed. A giant flower arrangement sat in the middle of a long table; around it were plates of assorted cookies, finger-sized danish, bite-sized muffins, sugared ladyfingers, and bowls of candies. On the buffet was a coffee urn with cream and sugar and hot cups. A sideboard held a filled punch bowl with cold cups. Put the scene in another context, add a little music, and it was party time.

Decker squeezed his body out of the dining room, back to the main drag. Yet he wasn’t quite ready to introduce himself to Dolly Sparks. He noticed that off the dining room was a swinging door. Decker pushed it open, found himself staring down an empty hallway. And since no one was telling him it was off-limits to foot traffic…

Glancing over his shoulder, he ventured down the foyer. Opened a few doors. A bathroom, an office with a computer, a butler’s pantry. At the end was another closed swinging door.

What the heck. He’d gone this far.

Decker leaned on it, allowing him entrance to a massive kitchen/breakfast nook area. At least a thousand square feet. An oversized refrigerator, an eight-burner stove. Walls and walls of cabinets—white, scalloped frames surrounding lemon-yellow panels hand-painted with flowers and scrolls. But they were old, the designs being chipped, faded, or missing altogether. Paper goods and boxes of pastries had been strewn over the counters. Hand-painted tile. Though the grout was clean, it had grayed with age. Several uniformed housekeepers scurried about: setting up cookie platters, bringing in empty plates, taking out pitchers of punch, or making more coffee.

Decker suddenly noticed that except for the help, he was alone. Nice. He could breathe. But it looked funny.

A maid carrying two platters of cookies winked at him as she passed by.

Decker held back a laugh.

The swing door opened. Immediately, Decker’s eyes grew in diameter.

“I thought I might find you here skulking about,” Rina said. “I’ve got to talk to you.”

Involuntarily, he felt his anger rise. He was working on a big murder case, his attention focused on business. Rina’s presence was not only a supreme distraction, but a problem. Personal digressions could screw up his credibility. “What are you doing here?”

“Can you keep your voice down to a civil level?”

Decker looked around. The hired help was staring at him. He took a deep breath. “Sorry.” He leaned over, kissed her forehead. “Sorry, I just didn’t expect—”

“I know. You’re working on a case. I’m interrupting your concentration. But I couldn’t help it.” Rina began kneading her hands. “I know Dr. Sparks’s son Abram. He asked me to come.”

Decker paused, weighed his words because he didn’t want to say the wrong thing. “He asked you to come?”