“She would have killed him,” Jack said.
“And Daddy would have disposed of the body,” Sara said.
“One thing is certain,” Kate said. “They all had to show up here. No one could say, ‘I don’t need to go because I know who killed Sean. Me.’”
“Too true,” Sara said, then looked at Jack. “You did a good job with Nadine. So what about Teddy?”
“No time to talk to her. I barely made it here on time.”
“Too bad,” Kate mumbled in a way that made Jack smile.
“So what’s this about the frantics?” Sara asked.
They looked at her in question.
“Both of you used that word. Everyone is now frantic. They must return to wherever.”
“To their lives,” Jack said.
“Don’t we all want that.” Sara looked down at her empty plate. “Anyone up for some English custard?”
“Not me,” Kate said.
“You’ll regret this in the morning,” Jack said. “Sugar and carbs?”
“I already regret it, but I need time to tell about the sleuthing I did on my own.” Sara looked extraordinarily pleased with herself.
“The spotlight is on you,” Jack said. “So spill.”
“Well...” Sara drew it out. “It seemed an odd coincidence that every person here suddenly got an urgent message to leave.” She smiled. “So I made some calls. In spite of what that hate-filled little tabloid said, some people have heard of me and do want—” She broke off at Jack’s look of impatience. “Lord Hazeldean’s office said there is no upcoming party. He’s in Saint Lucia and won’t be back for weeks.”
“But Nadine said...”
“Right,” Sara said. “Someone lied to her.”
“What about Clive?” Jack asked.
“He works for Coutts.” Jack and Kate looked blank. “It’s where the Queen keeps her money and I happen to have a pound or two in that bank.”
“You have a personal banker?” Jack asked.
“Oh yeah. He wears a tailcoat. Anyway, he made a few calls and found out some things. It seems that Clive isn’t one of those rich money people who gets a percentage of his deals. He gets a salary. It’s good but nothing to brag about. His boss told my banker that Clive is so hungry for acknowledgment, for praise, that if he asks for an increase in pay, they just let him have lunch with some big shot and Clive is happy for another two years.”
“They did that to him.” They knew Kate meant the Pack.
“Byon?” Jack asked. “What about him?”
Sara knew how much Jack admired the man, so she wanted to soften the blow. “His agent only talked to me because I said Byon wanted to put one of my books to music. It seems that Byon hasn’t written anything in years. He’s broke. He plays piano in a bar and lives—”
Jack threw up his hands. “Don’t tell me any more.”
“I wonder if Willa received an urgent call from her company?” Kate asked.
“From her husband?” Jack was frowning. “A man of Byon’s talent should be living in luxury. He should—”
“You’re only as good as your last book,” Sara said. “And they remember the old stuff as perfect and wonderful. Anything new and they say you should retire, that your b
ooks have lost their magic. They say—” She cut off at their looks. “Sorry. I found out for sure that Willa has never been married and has no children.”