“But she wouldn’t kill him just because of that, would she?”

“You should have seen where she put the bicycle pump!”

In fact Libby was alone in the dining room when we arrived for the meeting. She was sitting in a chair at the end of a black, polished table that ran almost the full length of the room. Portraits of bearded men in different shades of tartan looked down from the walls. A chandelier hung from the ceiling.

She looked up as we came in. Her eyes were red. Either she had been crying or she had bad hay fever—and I hadn’t noticed any hay on Crocodile Island. She was smoking a cigarette—or trying to. Her hands were shaking so much she had trouble getting it into her mouth.

“What are we going to do?” she wailed. “It’s so horrible! I knew I shouldn’t have accepted Rory’s invitation!”

“Why did you?” I asked. “If you didn’t like him . . .”

“Well . . . he’s interesting. He’s rich. I thought he might appear on my television program—Libby’s Lounge.”

“I watch that!” Tim exclaimed.

“But it’s a children’s program,” Libby said.

Tim blushed. “Well . . . I mean . . . I’ve seen it. A bit of it.”

“I’ve never heard of it,” I muttered.

Libby’s eyes went redder.

Then three of the others came in: Janet Rhodes, Mark Tyler, and Brenda Blake.

“I’ve been trying to call the mainland on my cell phone,” Janet announced. “But I can’t get a signal.”

“I can’t get a signal either,” agreed Mark, speaking as quickly as ever. He sort of shimmered in front of me and suddenly he was sitting down.

“There is no signal on this island.”

“And no phone in my room,” Janet said.

“No phone in any room!” The singer was looking pale and scared. Of course, she was the one who had found the body. Looking at her, I saw that it would be a few months before she sang in a concert hall. She probably wouldn’t have the strength to sing in the shower.

Somewhere a clock struck seven and Eric Draper waddled into the room. “Are we all here?” he asked.

“I’m here!” Tim called out, as helpful as ever.

“I think there’s one missing,” I said.

Eric Draper did a quick head count. At least everyone in the room still had their heads. “Sylvie isn’t here yet,” he said. He scowled. You could tell he was the sort of man who expected everyone to do exactly what he said. “We’ll have to wait for her.”

“She was always late for everything,” Janet muttered. She had slumped into a chair next to Libby. “I don’t know how she managed to get the highest grades and come in first in chemistry. She was always late for class.”