Don’t overreact, Daisy. You’ve simply come a long way from your college days.

  When she got in the cab, she tried to think about how to break the news of Lesley’s innocence to Natasha. She’d have to do it delicately, because she already knew that Natasha was a drama queen and would overreact to even the slightest bit of bad news. She leaned her head against the window and yawned.

  The next thing she knew, the cab driver was barking something at her in Greek. Blinking, she raised her head and found that she’d been drooling. Again.

  She looked out the window and saw the most magnificent, castle-like hotel, made of bright pink sandstone. HOTEL RODOS was written above the giant arched doorway in elegant script.

  “Oh, I’m here,” she said drowsily, realizing that was probably what the driver was trying to tell her. She reached into her purse, swiped her credit card, and stepped out. Before she could turn to thank the driver, he sped off, making her wonder how long she’d been dozing in the back seat.

  Even in her sensible shoes, she tottered to the curb. A few valets watched her like she was a time bomb about to go off, and one asked if she needed assistance. She waved him off and went through the doors into the opulent lobby.

  Her jaw dropped as she gazed up to the stained-glass artwork on the ceiling, and she almost lost her balance. Grabbing her phone, she propped herself up against a sturdy column and dialed Natasha’s number. “I’m here at the hotel,” she said when Natasha answered.

  “Oh, perfect, darling,” she said, every syllable drawn out with dramatic flair. “We’re out catching the last rays of sun. You come on over poolside, and we can catch up then.”

  Once again, call ended.

  Daisy scanned the place, looking for a sign pointing the way to the pool. Instead, she saw a man in a red jacket and brass nameplate, smiling at her. Actually, two men. Twins.

  Only one voice said, in an echo chamber, “May I help you?”

  It hit her, as her gut began to churn, that what she was seeing wasn’t right. Her eyes were deceiving her. Blinking to try to pull the dual image into one, she pressed herself against the column. When she opened her eyes, it hadn’t done any good. She spoke directly between them. “Pool?”

  He pointed the way, toward a hall and a set of double doors. He also said more, something about providing assistance, but Daisy only heard fragments. She made her way to back doors, vaguely aware that she was staggering by the way everyone around her seemed to stare and step away from her, as if they were afraid of catching whatever disease she had.

  When she reached the pool, she paused at the door handle, trying to get her bearings. Stepping outside, she hoped the sun and ocean air would help, but as she looked around the vast oasis of a pool area, she felt worse.

  She scanned the cabanas and lounge chairs, looking for the stunning, raven-haired beauty, and found her immediately. Natasha was a standout among people who were used to standing out. She was sitting up in her lounge chair, in a barely-there black bikini that showed off her toned figure, a floppy hat and dark sunglasses covering her face. But Daisy could tell that it was her, even tipsy and with the edges of her vision blurring.

  As Daisy approached, she noticed a tan woman lying flat on her stomach next to her. She’d untied the back straps on her own bikini so that her entire back was bare, and seemed to be asleep.

  “Darling,” she said as Daisy stood in front of her.

  Daisy waved. “H—”

  “Stop blocking my sun, for goodness’s sake. Sit down, sit down,” she mumbled, exasperated, pointing to the empty lounge chair next to her. “You look like you’re about to fall down. What have you been up to?”

  True to Natasha’s prediction, Daisy practically fell into the chair next to her. “I had a few Ouzitos and—”

  “Oh, that explains it. Those are not for those with weak constitutions, right, Mo?”

  A muffled “yes” came from the woman next to her. Daisy wasn’t sure she liked being pegged as having a weak constitution, but she had more important things on her mind. Since Natasha wasn’t making introductions, she said, “Are you Maureen?”

  She cracked an eye open. “Who’s asking?”

  “Mo, this is Daisy. She’s the PI I told you I brought from the states.”

  Maureen propped herself up on her elbows, giving Daisy a thorough eye-raking, stopping at her shoes.

  That’s it. I am getting new shoes the second I find a store.

  “Oh, right. Nice to meet you. I bet you have questions for me.”

  Daisy nodded. Maybe Gireau hadn’t gotten around to questioning her yet. Oh, who am I kidding? Gireau has probably interviewed everyone. “You’re Natasha’s college roommate? You were with Lesley the night of the murder.”

  Maureen gritted her teeth and looked at her friend. “Don’t remind me.”

  Natasha’s jaw went wide. “What?”

  “It was a huge mistake. But we were all pretty smashed.” Then she glared at Daisy. “Thanks for telling her.”

  Natasha let out a little yelp. “Mo, darling. You listened to me blather on incessantly about how I was certain Lesley had killed Jacob. And all this time, you knew it wasn’t him?”

  “Well . . .” She shrugged. “I mean, he could’ve. Lesley could’ve poisoned his drink before we left the yacht.”

  Daisy shook her head. “It’s not that he didn’t have the opportunity. The fact is that he isn’t interested at all in the business. He wanted to pursue his music career. He really had no reason to kill Jacob.”

  “Oh, puhleeze,” Natasha said, waving a manicured hand at her as she sipped her frozen drink. “That’s ludicrous. Of course he wanted the business. Why would you ever think otherwise? It’s worth millions upon millions!”

  “Not only did he come across as sincere when I spoke to him, but I found a letter he’d planned to send his attorney, detailing his plans to forfeit his stake in the family business,” Daisy said, leaning against the back of the chair, since her head was now starting to spin.

  “Probably forged,” Natasha said.

  “No, actually,” Maureen piped up. “I spent a long time speaking to him about it, too, that night on the beach. He kept saying that he knew it would upset Jacob, but his heart wasn’t in it. He really wanted to make a go of his band.”

  Natasha rolled her eyes. “Ridiculous. That band of his sounds worse than a flock of wounded seagulls.”

  Maureen shrugged and looked at Daisy. “Still . . .”

  “I think we need to look elsewhere to find the killer, assuming that it was a murder. Lesley seemed to think it might be suicide, and Mr. Vandiveer seems to concur.”

  She flicked a bug from her forearm. “Absolutely not. Jacob wouldn’t do that. I knew him best. He was murdered.” She reached out and grabbed Daisy’s arm suddenly. “Please. Find the killer. You must. I can’t tell you—”

  She lowered her head, and for a moment, Daisy thought she might see a glimpse of actual emotion from her.

  “—I can’t tell you how many sleepless nights I’ve had, wondering,” she said, her voice cracking. “It’s been terrible.”

  “I understand. I’ll try.” Daisy went to put a hand atop Natasha’s hand, which was resting on her arm, as a gesture of comfort.

  But before she could, Natasha moved away and flicked her off like the bug that had been on her forearm. Her voice turned hard again. “If that’s all, I’ll let you get back to it.”

  Then she turned away, as if Daisy was one of her servants.

  And in a way, that was all she was.

  So, Daisy let out a sigh, shuffled out of the chair, and rose to her feet. But as she sat up, something occurred to her. “Oh,” she began. “One more thing.”

  Natasha looked at her, annoyed. “You’re in my sun again.”

  Daisy moved to the side, but that only seemed to make her shadow bigger. She moved to the other side, but the sudden movement made her head feel like it was two feet thick. She grabbed the side of her face, massaging her temple.

  “Yes?” Natasha prompted, her lips pursed tight.

  “I have about half the people who were on the boat that night, and I’ve cleared them. But do you think you can give me the names of any . . .” She stopped, as a strange feeling started to come over her. She felt like her legs were no longer her own, like she was just floating there. “Any . . .”

  “Any what?” she heard Natasha say, but Daisy couldn’t quite see anymore, because vision swirled. She didn’t see double anymore. She saw all colors, mixing together like a child’s fingerpainting.

  “The names of the people . . .” Was she talking? She wasn’t just thinking, was she? Why did her tongue feel so misshapen, hard and useless, like a tree trunk in her mouth? She tried again. “The names of the people on the yacht with . . .”

  She trailed off, and before she knew it, the pink pavers that had once been under her feet began rising up to meet her, and she could do nothing to stop it.

  And then the world faded to black.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Daisy woke to find herself in a lush cabana, surrounded by swaying, gauzy curtains. The cushions beneath her were soft and luxurious, and she sank comfortably into them tasting the sweet ocean air. All she needed was a fruity tropical drink and a sweet, understanding man to share it all with, and it would be perfect.

  “This is heaven,” she whispered. Exactly the vacation she’d always dreamed of having—her, in some paradise, with nothing to do but relax.

  But then she realized that she’d never made any reservations. Hadn’t gone to the airport. Hadn’t even packed for a trip to the islands. In fact, she’d been working a case, not very long ago. And . . . what had happened with it?

  She cracked an eye open and realized that she wasn’t wearing a bathing suit. Not even close; she was wearing a professional blouse and blazer, the exact thing she usually wore when following a case, though now, it was quite a bit more rumpled than she was used to. And . . . was that dirt on the front of it?

  Then she rolled over and saw a number of servants in red jackets, staring at her with concern. One of them was fanning her face with his hand.

  “Are you all right, ma’am?” a woman said, lifting a bottle to her lips.

  Embarrassed, she tried to sit up to drink, but her head still spun. As she sipped the cold water, she looked around for her employer. “Natasha?”

  The woman shook her head. “Ms. Blake had to go back to her room, regretfully. She had dinner reservations. She asked us to see to you. An ambulance is on its way.”

  “Oh,” Daisy said, not sure why she felt disappointed. Of course, Natasha wasn’t her friend. She couldn’t think any more, though, because her head ached. “No need for an ambulance. I’m fine. Just passed out from the heat.”

  Of course, it wasn’t. It was those damn drinks. And while she’d have loved to blame it on someone poisoning her to stop her from solving the case, it was likely she’d just drunk too much. She needed to be careful and smarter, this time. She was approaching her second day in Rhodes, and she was no closer to finding out the truth. She needed to get moving.

  Gingerly, she slid to the edge of the bed, still clutching the side of her head. “Thank you, everyone. I’ve got to go . . .”

  “Oh. Take this, ma’am,” the woman said, handing her the bottle of water and a piece of paper. “Ms. Blake said that it was for you.”

  She unfolded it to find a list of names. The twelve who’d been aboard. She knew half of them, but the others, who she assumed were either servants or members of the bridal party, she hadn’t heard of before. If Natasha had been here, she would’ve asked her to clarify. But right now, they were just names—some, only half-names, like Faye.

  But at least it was a start. She stood up, clinging to the cabana’s vertical column for support, then slowly made her way back to the hotel. “Thank you so much.”

  The walk across the grand hotel lobby seemed to take an eternity, but by the time she reached transportation services and asked for a cab, she felt a little better. She got into the cab, staring at the list, and called Natasha again.

  “Oh, you’re alive, darling,” she said without sounding relieved at all. “Sorry I had to leave you, but Mo made reservations months ago for an exclusive place on the beach, and she simply would’ve killed me if we missed.”

  Daisy wasn’t sure about that. Since Maureen’s family owned half the island, she was pretty sure they could’ve gone wherever they wanted, whenever they wanted to. But she shrugged. “I’m fine. Thanks for the list. Can I ask you who these people are?”

  She sighed. “All of them? I thought a good detective might know off the bat?”

  “I’ve met more than half of them. But who is Zachary Hardy? No one has mentioned him?”

  “Oh, him,” she said, and Daisy could almost hear her rolling her eyes on the other end. “He’s a loathsome attorney. One of Jacob’s friends.”

  “In the wedding party?”

  “No . . .” she said, pausing as if some great thought had occurred to her. “That’s funny. I don’t really know why he was there. I didn’t even think he was that good a friend of Jacob’s, to be honest.”

  “Okay,” Daisy said, scanning the list. “And this person, Miranda Castleton. Is she a friend of yours, in the bridal party?”

  “Friend of Jacob’s family. I don’t know much about her,” she said shortly, dismissively. “Look. I’ve got to go. Our table is ready.”

  She wanted to ask about the other names, but the cab was pulling up at the Vandiveer estate, and she had enough to go on for now. Daisy said, “Okay, well, I’m going to look into this tonight and then I’ll—”

  She stopped when she realized that she was talking to dead air.

  Groaning, she shoved her phone in her pocket, wondering if she would ever learn. To people like Natasha Blake and most of the rich and important, a second-rate detective didn’t matter at all.

  But maybe that was a good thing. If they thought she didn’t matter, maybe they’d forget she was there, drop their airs, and tell the truth. She could only hope.

  This time, she made it through the front gate with only a mild grilling. Apparently, Myrtle had thought to add her to the relatively short guest list. As she was walking around the main fountain outside the circular drive, she saw someone standing on the rim of the fountain, silhouetted by the fading sun.

  “Stay right there!”

  Daisy froze, wondering if she was about to get in trouble again, when there was the click of a camera shutter, and the figure jumped down into her vision. It was Coco, the Vandiveer’s cousin, staring at her handiwork. “Got that. Looks perfect.”

  Daisy looked over at the camera’s latest shot and grimaced. She’d gotten Daisy from an extremely high angle, so all that really showed was her confusion-wrinkled brow and her “PI shoes.” She mumbled, “What are you going to call that? Private Eye in Turmoil?”

  “Are you?” Coco asked, head tilted. “So, I take it the investigations aren’t going so swimmingly?”

  “Dead in the water,” she muttered, unfolding the paper Natasha had given her. “You wouldn’t happen to know where I could find some of these people?”

  “Oh, is this a list of the other pretentious kids at that party?” she asked scanning the list. “Who did you get this from?”

  “Natasha. Myrtle said there are no other guests staying on property, so I’m assuming they’re no longer here, but—”

  “No, they are. That’s the thing about these people. They have an abundance of leisure time. They never rush anywhere.” She grinned. “They might not be staying at the property, but they’re around. I think this girl—Miranda—came by her own yacht. She’s probably still docked at the marina.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, but I don’t think she would have anything to do with it.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Well, she was probably younger than me, even, and she never talked to Jacob at all. She just sat there in the back. She and Natasha were giving each other looks the whole time, but I don’t think I heard her say one word to anyone.”

  “But I thought Natasha said that she was Jacob’s friend?”

  Coco shrugged. “Didn’t look like it. And let’s see . . . this guy? Zachary? He must’ve been the squirrely looking, uptight guy in the corner. I think I heard he was Vandy’s attorney’s son.” She gasped. “Come to think of it, he was really weird. He didn’t really talk to anyone the whole time, either. Just kind of sat back and observed, like he was waiting for the right time to strike. It could’ve been him, you know. I actually saw him near the stairs to Jacob’s room before I went to bed.”

  “You did?”

  She nodded. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of that until just now. He was perspiring something awful.” She laughed. “He was so wet, I thought he’d fallen overboard. I remember him, with a handkerchief, wiping his forehead, but it didn’t help. He was sweating like pig.”

  “Do you know where I could find him?”

  “Well, let me see. The offices of Hardy and Hardy are on the mainland,” Coco said. “Vandy talks about it all the time.”

  Daisy sighed. A trip to the mainland would take all day. “That’s the firm he works for? I’ll have to phone him, then.”

  “Yep, like I said, he’s in it with his dad, but I think he’s been taking over more and more because his father’s old. But not so fast. From what I hear, he has clients all over the island, so he’s here more than he’s in the office, since his father is too old to make the trip. I don’t know how anyone could trust him, but his father was very well respected. When Vandy told everyone to clear out after Jacob died because they wanted their privacy, I think Zachary went to stay with the Lafayettes.” She jumped back on the rim of the fountain and stood on her tip toes, searching for something. Then she grabbed for Daisy’s hand. “Come up here.”

  “What? Why?” she said as Coco gripped her hand tightly and hoisted her up.

 

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