Had she pretended that Hulu was still involved because there was more cache? Maybe. Yet if they’d dropped out because of something simple—funding problems, a change higher up, scheduling conflicts—you’d think Piper would explain that away.

Her phone pinged. Ronnie had asked Lauren, Have you found a way to contact Jean? Do you think he has something to do with this?

Lauren wrote back: Not sure, but the producer did say Jean spoke with the cops. You’d think they’d have interviewed him about his alibi.

Yes, Andrea thought, but did that police station have the bandwidth to follow up? The three of them seemed to have gathered more clues at this point.

“Mommy?” Arthur called out.

When she turned, Arthur was behind her. Andrea tousled his hair. “What’s up?”

“Door,” Arthur said.

“Door?” She cast her mind back to what they were thinking about. “No, four comes after three, honey. Remember?”

“No, someone at the door.” Arthur’s face brightened. “Reginald!”

“Wha—?” Andrea murmured, rising to her feet. And then—oh. The date they’d arranged in the bookstore. It felt like a million years ago. Reginald shifted behind the glass.

“I’m sorry,” Andrea blurted when she pulled the door open. “There’s been some crazy stuff going on, and I completely forgot.”

“Reginald!” Arthur said at the same time, running for him.

“Hey, buddy!” Reginald opened his arms, and Arthur ran straight in. “How’ve you been?”

“I cut my finger today, and I got a Star Wars Band-Aid,” Arthur said with great importance.

Andrea looked at Reginald. “I’m such a flake. I’m not dressed, I didn’t get a sitter . . .”

“It’s not a big deal,” Reginald said. “Arthur can always come with us.”

It was a beautiful evening. The sunset would probably draw the community to restaurants with patios. Andrea imagined walking into a restaurant and having all those heads turn. Raisin Beach wasn’t that big.

Reginald seemed to sense her hesitation. “Or . . . we could eat in. Hang out with Arthur here. There’s always Postmates.”

“Postmates! Postmates!” Arthur whooped, even though Andrea was pretty sure he had no idea what Postmates was.

The unbridled glee on his face made her burst out laughing, and so she said, “Okay. Sure. Let’s do it.”

•   •   •

Forty-five minutes later, they were surrounded by cartons and bowls of half-eaten Thai and a half-finished bottle of rosé. Andrea leaned back in her chair and shut her eyes. “That was delicious.”