What was wrong with me? I had to focus. I forced myself to go over the case. I’d interviewed all the club members and had pretty much gotten nowhere. The only thing I learned was that Colin was alone in the kitchen and owned a peanut cookbook. Not exactly evidence that would hold up in court.

I sure hoped the cops were making better progress than I was.

I needed to put on my thinking cap and see if I could come up with any other theories. So I did what I always do when I need to operate at top mental capacity. I made myself a strong cup of coffee, took out a legal pad, sharpened a batch of pencils—and spent the rest of the afternoon watching daytime TV.

What can I say? I needed the distraction. You know how it is. Sometimes when you’re driving yourself crazy trying to solve a problem, the answer comes to you when you walk away from it.

I was in the middle of watching a highly educational program on Pregnant Women Who Cheat on Their Married Lovers when the phone rang.

“Hey, Nancy Drew.” It was Pam. “How’s it going with The Case of the Dreadful Decorator?”

I told her what little I’d learned so far, including Colin admitting that he was alone in the kitchen on the night of the murder.

“Do you think Colin’s the killer?” she asked.

“So far, he’s my most promising suspect. What do you think?”

“I hate to say it, because I really like the guy. But I’ve always thought Colin had a—how can I put it?—a moral weak spot. Like this one time we ate lunch together, and when we were through, I saw him steal the waiter’s tip.”

“You’re kidding.”

“No. Really. I never forgot it.”

Yet another vote for Colin for killer.

“Too bad Marybeth didn’t leave him big bucks in her will,” I sighed. “It would’ve given him a much stronger motive to kill her.”

“Yeah. Getting turned down for a job isn’t exactly the most compelling motive in the world. If it was, I’d be on death row by now.”

“All she left him was the armoire. He really wanted her Porsche.”

“At least she won’t be driving it anymore,” she said. “It’s funny, if you’d asked me to guess how Marybeth was going to die, I would’ve given you odds it would’ve been in that car. Marybeth was an accident waiting to happen.

“Hey,” she said, interrupting herself, “do you suppose Colin was lying? Maybe Marybeth left him money after all, and he just didn’t tell you.”

“It would be a pretty silly lie, wouldn’t it? After all, I could easily find out the truth from Ashley or Marybeth’s attorney.”

“You’re right, of course. That’s why you’re the detective and I’m not.”