“Just wondering. She must have been a friend of Cordelia’s. Diana said she’d been there a couple of times. I wondered about the connection.”

Gussie shrugged. “Maybe she liked the dolls? I have no idea. I still can’t believe Cordelia’s dead.”

“What possible motive could anyone have?” mused Maggie.

“That’s one problem for Diana,” Gussie said. “Jim told me something Ike probably doesn’t know yet. I don’t even know if Diana knows. But if she does, it gives her a motive.”

“What?” asked Maggie.

“Right after Dan Jeffrey’s body was found Cordelia went to Jim and had him draw up her will. I don’t know if she’d had one before. But her new will leaves everything, including of course, her home, to Diana.”

“Why would she do that? She’d only known Diana a week or so.”

Gussie shook her head. “Maybe she liked her. Maybe Diana was her only relative. I have no idea.”

“But you’re right. If Diana knew she was Cordelia’s heir, that would give her a motive. You told me that house is worth a small fortune.”

“So let’s hope Ike finds someone with a better motive, and a gun that matches the bullet Cordelia was shot with. Otherwise our young friend could be in a lot more trouble than she imagines.”

Maggie sat for a moment. “But even if—and it’s a big ‘if’—Diana shot Cordelia, what about her father? I can’t see that she would have shot him. She’d have no reason to do that.”

Gussie sighed. “I was thinking about that the other night. Her father faked his own death. She inherited the money from his life insurance and property. If the insurance company discovered he was still alive her father would be charged with fraud, and have to pay back everything Diana inherited after his ‘death.’ Plus, he’d probably do prison time.”

“I don’t know how much insurance there was, but I’m sure she doesn’t have much money now. She told me she put their house in Colorado on the market to help pay bills and tuition. Would she be liable for the money she inherited when she thought her father was dead?”

Gussie shook her head. “I don’t know. But I’ll bet the courts would take back anything she hadn’t spent. It would be a mess, no matter what, and there’d be a nasty court case. She’d have lost her dad again, for sure. This time to prison.”

“You’re saying it would be simpler for Diana if he’d stayed dead,” said Maggie.

“It’s a horrible thought. But it made me wonder.…”

The door opened, and pungent odors of tomato and sausage filled the room.

Maggie watched as Diana laughed and picked the anchovies off her pizza, and they joked about changing the wedding reception menu to include spumoni and tortoni.

Diana couldn’t be a killer. Could she?

Chapter 32

C. Brandauer and Co.’s Circular-Pointed Pens.Wonderful wood-engraved full-page advertisement from the September 25, 1886 edition of The Illustrated London News. An elegantly dressed woman wearing an engagement ring sits at her desk with her pen and open inkwell, writing a love letter. She’s assisted by three winged cherubs; one whispering in her ear, one guiding her pen, and one examining the pen points in a box on her desk. Above her, in the clouds of her dreams, three more cherubs paint a large C. Brandauer & Co. Circular Point. In very small type in the margin below the engraving are the words, “The course of a true love letter runs smoothest when written with one of C. Brandauer and Co.’s Circular-pointed Pens. These pens neither scratch nor spurt, the points being rounded by a new process.” Page size, 11 x 16 inches. Price: $60.

“What’s on the agenda this morning?” Will asked, bending down to nibble Maggie’s ear as she attempted to pin her hair up. “The day before the wedding of the century there must be bridal errands to take care of.”

“You mean, aside from the hurricane bearing down on the Cape and the bachelorette party I have to attend tonight?” Maggie asked. “I hear Jim’s friends have some sort of fun evening in mind for him, too, and you, as the special out-of-town guest of the maid of honor, are included in that gathering.”

“Jim told me, last night. I’ve been to a couple of those fun events in my jaded lifetime. They usually involve beer, shots, and an occasional stripper. I’d rather spend the evening with you.”

Maggie sighed. “I wouldn’t count on the stripper. Although you never know. I’m not too thrilled with my evening plans, either. Especially in the middle of a hurricane. Seems to me storm parties should be spent cozily indoors, behind battened-down hatches, preferably with company of one’s choice.” She turned and kissed her favorite freckle at the base of Will’s neck. “And perhaps a bottle of wine and some pâté or cheese.”

“A cheeseburger would be fine by me,” Will answered. “Although something that doesn’t require cooking would probably be a more intelligent choice, since I suspect we’ll lose power somewhere along the line.” He switched on the television set.

“Hurricane Tasha is currently passing over the eastern end of Long Island,” the announcer was saying. “She’s still a Category Three hurricane, with winds of approximately ninety-five miles per hour. Towns along the coasts of Connecticut, Rhode Island, Cape Cod and the Massachusetts Islands are preparing for her to hit there later this afternoon or early this evening, before she heads further north, becoming the first hurricane in more than a decade to make landfall along the coast of Maine.”

Will clicked off the television. “No change in the forecast. I hope Aunt Nettie will be all right.”

“Tom’s with her. And you said you’d already taken the porch furniture in and closed everything up.”

“And I have her car, so if it’s crushed by a tree it’ll be a Massachusetts tree,” Will said, pacing the room. “Her home won’t flood. It’s on that hill, and too high above the river to be touched by tidal surges. Wind or rain would be the problems, or falling trees or branches.”

“You’ll be home in two days,” said Maggie. “And other people in your family are near Waymouth. She’s not alone, Will. You deserve a few days off.”

“I do. You’re right. But I worry just the same.”

“Let’s get some breakfast downstairs, and then call Gussie and check in. Jim probably left hours ago to pick up his mother in Providence, assuming she made it in last night. If there are wedding-related errands we should do them before the weather starts going downhill. And I wonder if anything will change with Diana’s status today.”

“I’d guess the police will be focused on the hurricane for the next twenty-four hours,” said Will as they headed to the dining room. “They know where Diana is, and they’ll have to wait for forensic reports before they do much more. This isn’t CSI. Results take time. I’ve heard that hundreds of times from my friend Nick Strait. You drove him crazy about that case last summer, Maggie, but since I moved to Waymouth I’ve seen him a lot. He keeps calling to ask me to have a beer and tell me his State Trooper stories.”

Maggie nodded. “You see? I helped you renew an old friendship. Give Nick my best.”

“I’ll do that.”

“Speaking of talking to people, there are a couple of people I’d like to see before everyone closes up today,” she added, sitting down at the table. “Those blueberry pancakes look delicious. And are those pumpkin muffins?”

“They are,” said Mrs. Decker. “After all, it is the end of October. Even if we are expecting Southern company tonight.” She sniffed and headed back to the kitchen.

“Southern…oh, Hurricane Tasha.” Maggie slathered butter on her muffin. “Let’s stop somewhere and find diet soda.”

“My poor lady,” said Will, pouring himself a cup of black coffee. “I should have thought of that last night at the pizzeria. No diet soda for breakfast.”

“I’ll manage.” Maggie sipped orange juice. “I can be flexible.”

“Oh, I know that,” said Will, his eyes twinkling.