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“Why do you even have that whistle, Connor?” I say. “This isn’t basketball.”

“The umpire makes the rules.”

“No, the umpireenforcesthe rules.”

We glare at each other. Connor’s wearing white pants and a white cable-knit sweater with the Wimbledon logo on it, because of course he is. He probably ordered away for them special the minute he got his invitation.

“Perhaps I could be of assistance,” Inspector Tucci says, shuffling out of his seat and onto the court. His white pants are ballooning around him, two sizes too big. “I have an innate sense of, how do you say, fairness.”

“No!” Connor and I say in unison.

Inspector Tucci backs up with his hands in the air.

“Fred,” I say, “let’s play fair, all right? You know Emma always tells the truth.”

“What a reputation!” Simone says from the sidelines.

“It’s true, Simone. Right, Fred?”

He nods grudgingly.

“What’s up, mate?” Connor says with a laugh. “You have money riding on this game or something?”

Fred’s face turns very red.

“Oh, no, Fred,” Emma says. “You promised me you’d stopped all that.”

Connor sits up straight in his umpire chair as David leans in to make sure he doesn’t miss a beat of this conversation. “Stopped all what?”

“It’s none of your business,” I say.

“Oh!” David says with anticipation. “That’s what it is, right? It makes sense.”

“What do you mean, David?” Allison says.

David turns to Allison with an excited look in his eyes. “He was asking me about Connor’s motivation. You know, forWhen in Rome. Like what the backstory was about why he got involved with Cecilia in the first place, and he wondered if it might be because he had a gambling problem, and—”

Fred’s making a slashing motion at his throat, but it’s too late. David’s got Mrs. Winter’s attention now.

“What’s this? Fred? Is it true? Are you gambling again?” She’s wrapped in head-to-toe white cashmere including a massive wide-brimmed hat that has flowers around the rim.

Fred’s face dissolves into panic. He looks to Mr. Winter forhelp, but he just shrugs his shoulders and pats Mrs. Winter on the arm gently.

The chatter in the stands has stopped. Some of the cast and crew look uncomfortable, but most of them are reacting the way you’d expect.

Like they’ve stumbled into a live taping of their favorite TV show.

But the person who I care about here is Emma. And she’s not doing well.

“Fred?” she says, her voice shaking.

He wheels around. “Just a friendly wager on the game, that’s all, sweetheart, I swear.”

“With who?”

“Some of the cast and crew...You know, just the guys.”

“But you promised.”