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“Are you okay?”

They hugged briefly, and Dylan ushered Ellery into the long, comfortable living room with its vintage theater sign and colorful theatrical posters. “What the hellhappenedlast night?”

“I got to September’s house and all the lights were off—”

Dylan interrupted, “When? When did you get there?”

“It was just about eight. I went straight over after we talked.”

“Of course. Yes. I’m just trying to understand…”

Good luck with that. Was murder ever something that could be fully understood?

Ellery continued, “The curtains were drawn. Her golf cart was in the driveway, so I figured she had to be there. But she didn’t answer the doorbell.”

“The doorbell doesn’t work,” Dylan said automatically.

“Right. Well, I knocked, I called her name. Then I went around to the back and tried to peek through the windows. I thought maybe she’d left a candle burning—”

“She did that all the time.”

“I tried the door handle. I don’t know why. I really need to stop doing that. Anyway, the door opened and I looked inside. I couldn’t see much at first, but then I realized something—September—was lying in the doorway between the kitchen and, I guess, the living room.”

“Did you go in? Did you…” Dylan’s voice faded and he stared blankly at the picture his imagination had summoned.

Ellery shook his head. “No. I-I was pretty sure it was too late.” He swallowed as his stomach roiled unhappily at the memory.

“God,” Dylan dropped his face in his hands. “God. God. God.Whydid this have to happen?”

“I’m really sorry, Dylan.”

Dylan sat up, shaking his head. He patted Ellery’s knee. “It’s not… I’m going to sound utterly heartless. I’m sorry she’s dead. I am. But I’m sorrier I ever got involved with her.”

Ellery did not reply. He preferred Dylan’s honesty to fake grief. But Dylan’s honesty was dangerous too. Not everyone was going to understand where Dylan was coming from.

“Jack thinksIkilled her.” Dylan’s tone was almost wondering. “After all these years, he thinks I’m capable of murder.”

“Jack thinks everyone is capable of murder,” Ellery said. He couldn’t help a tinge of bitterness. “Given the right set of circumstances.”

Dylan stared at him with bloodshot eyes. “These would not have been the right set of circumstances!”

“I know. I know you didn’t kill her.”

“Ididn’tkill her. I wouldneverhave killed her. I should have gone over there the minute I got that bloody phone message.”

“I don’t think a few minutes would have made any difference.”

Dylan shook his head and then kept shaking it. “I don’t know what to do. I can’t believe this is happening.”

“You should hire a lawyer. That’s the first thing.”

“Yes.” But Dylan didn’t move. Maybe he’d already done so? He continued to huddle on the sofa looking very much like the victim of a hit and run.

Ellery squeezed his shoulder. “Maybe you won’t be arrested. Maybe it won’t come to that.”

Dylan gave him another of those hollow-eyed stares. “There’s no one else. They have no other suspects. Jack told me that last night. She wasn’t on the island long enough to make enemies. He actually said that to me.”

“She didn’t have any friends either, so what does that tell you?”