“Don’t worry, Miss Brightwell. We’ll be doing that. Trust me. But when I was a young lawman my boss said to me, ‘Always go for what you know. Go for the obvious first then work outward.’ And what I know right now is that you could have a good reason for killing a former lover and the evidence was found in your bed.”

“Hardly a former lover,” she said. “We had a quickie after we arrived this afternoon, before the dreadful wife got here.” And she smirked. “And as to having the opportunity to kill him—ask the others. We came into the rotunda together after dinner and we didn’t leave until Cy was found dead. Isn’t that right?”

I hesitated, wrestling between telling the truth and betraying someone. Then I decided I had no reason to be loyal to Stella. Darcy had followed her across the country, suspecting her of being a notorious jewel thief. I had to tell what I knew.

“You did leave the room once, Stella,” I said, then blushed when all eyes turned on me. “You went to ask for more coffee when Darcy and Ronnie joined us.”

“Oh yes. So I did.” Stella gave a little laugh. “But two seconds going down to the kitchen and back hardly constitutes enough time to sneak into the library, kill Cy and rush upstairs with a candlestick, does it? Everyone would have seen me going upstairs, for one thing. And Maria can vouch for my presence in the kitchen. I’m not Peter Pan. I can’t fly around the house in seconds.”

This, of course, was true. Even if she’d been out of our line of vision we’d have heard her feet going upstairs.

“I’m not going to caution you officially yet, but I want you locked up with a guard on you until we know more. Which of these rooms can be locked from the outside?”

“The library,” Stella said, “but I take it even you wouldn’t be insensitive enough to lock me up with Cy’s body.”

“No. Of course not. And we’ll want to conduct a further search on this room.” He looked around, unsure what to do next. “What other rooms?”

“The poolside cabanas can all be locked from the outside,” Ronnie said, “but they are currently occupied. As are some of the cottages. In fact Stella is the only person sleeping in the house, apart from Mrs. Goldman.”

“And Barbara Kindell,” Stella said. “Mrs. Goldman wanted her friend close to her, remember?”

Instinctively we turned around but Barbara had not joined us at the top of the stairs. Neither had Mrs. Goldman, nor Algie. The sheriff looked around at those of us clustered in the doorway. “So who would have known that this was Miss Brightwell’s room?”