"Do I look like it?" he asked, indicating his civilian attire.

"In that case," Renie said, "how about a drink?"

The deputy sat down at the table. "I can't . . . hell, why not?"

Renie opened the cupboard where the liquor was kept. "Bourbon, Scotch, vodka, gin?"

"Bourbon, rocks, and water," he replied. "It's a good thing I stayed home today and schlepped around the house. At least I'm not exhausted."

"So," Judith asked, "why did you answer the call?"

"We got a big wreck between Langton and Cooptown," Jacobson replied. "Five cars involved, possible fatalities. Teenagers out too late racing on the wet roads and probably doing booze and drugs. All the on-duty deputies are tied up at the scene. Your call was sent on to me, since I'm the one handling the homicide case." He paused to take his drink from Renie. "So what's happening here now?"

Judith was embarrassed. "I jumped the gun-so to speak. I thought I'd fingered the killer. I was wrong." She bit her lip. "I'm so sorry. I've made you come out in the middle of the night for nothing."

Renie held up a hand. "Whoa. That's not true. What about the dead body in the Quimby basement?"

"Oh," Judith said. "That. It's not exactly an emergency."

Jacobson's eyebrows shot up as he took a deep swallow of bourbon. "Let me be the judge of that. What are you talking about?"

Judith winced. "We sneaked into the Quimbys' basement. Old Mrs. Quimby is . . . moldering down there. Is that against the law?"

"Is 'moldering' against the law?" Jacobson shook himself. "You mean . . . she's dead?"

"Very," Judith replied. "Don't make me explain. It'd take too long."

The deputy frowned. "I knew she'd died, but . . ." He took another swig of bourbon. "There's nothing I can do tonight about the corpse. You're sure it's Mrs. Quimby?"

Judith realized she wouldn't know Blanche Quimby from blanc mange. In fact, given the state of decomposition, the face had looked kind of like a very unsavory pudding. "Who else could it be?" she asked.

"The Quimbys will have to answer that question," Jacobson said. "I don't suppose you'd care to tell me why you broke into their house in the first place?"

Judith her head. "I really wouldn't. Do you mind?"

The deputy grimaced. "All things considered, no." He polished off his drink. "I'd better go now while I'm still sober."

Renie walked him to the door. "Be careful out there," she called out before closing the door and locking up. "You're lucky he knows you're FASTO. Otherwise, he would've busted us."

"Don't mention that stupid nickname," Judith snapped. "I feel more like SLUGGO."

"Wasn't he in the comics when we were kids?"

"Yes," Judith replied testily. "He hung out with Nancy, who was a little fat girl with black hair. You told me I looked just like her."

"You did. She always had all the answers."

Judith gave Renie a bleak look. "And I don't. That's why I feel like Sluggo. I'm going to bed."

"Good idea," Renie said. "Tomorrow is another day."

"Don't be so optimistic," Judith retorted. "That's not like you."

Renie shrugged. "For once, I thought I'd act like my mother instead of yours."

Judith didn't comment. But for some reason, her cousin's words followed her to bed. She didn't realize that they were the answer to who had killed Ernie Glover.

By morning, fog had once again settled in over Obsession Shores. To Judith's surprise, she'd slept until almost ten. Not to her surprise, Renie was still asleep. Judith showered, dressed, and went out to the kitchen to make breakfast. She noticed that she couldn't see much beyond the deck.

The phone rang while she was frying bacon. "Jacobson here," the deputy said. "In case you were wondering, we're going to have to get a warrant to get inside the Quimby house. I figured you might be puzzled about why I hadn't shown up yet this morning."

"I couldn't see far enough in this fog to tell if you were here or not," Judith responded. "I'm wondering if Renie and I should head for home."

"I can't tell you what to do," Jacobson said, "but I'd advise staying put for now. The fog's all over the south end of the island. It's not a good idea to be out on the roads until it lifts. Besides, the ferryboats to the mainland are having some problems. Of course they're overloaded with the Monday-morning commuters."

"I have to wait anyway," Judith told him. "Renie's still asleep."

The deputy told her that was just as well and rang off. Judith finished preparing her breakfast of bacon, boiled eggs, and toast. She was almost done eating when she heard Renie stirring in the spare bedroom. A few minutes later, as Judith was putting her dirty dishes and silverware into the dishwasher, Renie leaned into the kitchen.

"Don't say it," she muttered, staggering to the bathroom. "Nothing good about mornings except for committing suicide, as my grouchy dad used to say to my cheerful mom. Gack."

Judith couldn't resist. "Good morning," she said in a chipper voice. Renie slammed the door behind her. Pouring a mug of coffee, she picked up the manila envelope from the counter and sat back down at the table.

Looking at the ten photos of her father evoked mixed emotions. He looked much younger than she remembered him. Maybe that was because there were no close-ups, the pictures having been taken from quite a distance. Two of the Polaroids included Gertrude, looking unusually benign. Her mother had always had a sharp tongue, but the toughness came later, after Donald Grover died too soon.

The half-dozen letters hadn't all been postmarked prior to her father's death, though the two that weren't had been sent only the week before the first heart attack. He'd lingered for several days in the hospital before succumbing to the ravages of the rheumatic fever that he'd suffered from as a child. Judith guessed that Gertrude hadn't bothered to check the mail. She'd spent most of the time at the hospital with her husband.

"Well?" Renie said, seeing Judith holding one of the letters but obviously reluctant to open it. "Are you scared to find out what erotic messages Blanche sent to Uncle Donald?"

"You've shed your tiger stripes," Judith noted. "It didn't take you long to get ready for the day."

"I took a bath last night," Renie replied, pouring coffee into a mug inscribed with the words KEEP CLAM. "You know I prefer doing that. I'm afraid if I wait until morning, I might drown, not being fully conscious."

"Smart," Judith murmured. "I'm about to read the first of Blanche's letters."

"Read it out loud. I'm going to get some cereal."

Judith winced. "If they're too gushy, I might get nauseous." But she unsealed the first of the ecru envelopes. "Drat! It's all in French."

"Did your father speak French?" Renie asked, bringing a bowl of cornflakes to the table.

"French and Spanish," Judith replied. "I only took a year of Spanish. I wasn't good at languages. You know French. I remember that from when we were in Europe."

"I studied Spanish a lot more than French," Renie said. "I'm really rusty at both languages, though I can usually read some of it better than I speak it. Let me take a look." In between spoonfuls of cereal, she frowned at the elegant yet not entirely legible handwriting. "Rough-really rough-translation is that she finds your father handsome, debonair, intelligent, gallant, and proposes a tryst."

"Are you sure about that?"

"The word she uses is rendezvous. Even you can figure that out."

Judith handed over the second letter. "I'm not sure I want to hear more of her drivel."

Renie opened another envelope. "More gack-making stuff. Written the next day, grand passion, mon seul et unique amour. Her only love. Blah blah. Cut to the chase and give me the last letter. That might be more revealing about Blanche's state of mind."

A full minute passed before a scowling Renie finally spoke again. "Her heart or her flask is broken. I can't tell if the word is coeur or cruet. She's dying of unreturned love. I suppose she got that way from getting the returned letters."

"It's kind of pathetic," Judith said. "I can't help feeling pity for her."

"You would. I don't," Renie declared. "She's middle-aged before she actually falls in love? I wonder what she looked like."

"Not very good when I saw her," Judith said, making a face. "I must confess," she went on with a smile, "you're back to being you."

"Right. Renie rhymes with Meanie. At least we resemble our mothers in looks. I guess that's not the worst thing that could happen."

Judith didn't comment. Her mind had wandered off on a tangent. "I'm thinking about heading home after the fog lifts, but I'd like to find out what happens when Jacobson confronts the Quimby clan. Maybe we should walk up that way. It's almost eleven. The fog should start to lift."

"You're sure you want to leave?" Renie inquired after polishing off her cornflakes. "Auntie Vance might be disappointed."

Judith had gone to the window, where she didn't notice much change in the weather. "She can ask the Sedgewicks or the Friedmans."

Renie took her bowl and spoon over to the dishwasher. "Did you see any of them at the vacant lot last night?"

"No," Judith said. "It was so dark. When I was trying to avoid hitting the people along the road, I was focused on my driving."

The phone rang. Thinking it might be Jacobson, Judith hurried to pick up the receiver. "Vance?" a vaguely familiar voice said at the other end. "We're going to do it."

"Do what?" Judith blurted, too curious to bother mentioning she wasn't her aunt.

"Confront . . . is this Vance?"

Judith recognized Becca Bendarek. "No, it's Judith, her niece. The Webers are still gone."

"Oh. I thought they might be back today. Sorry." She hung up.

"Now, what's that all about?" Judith murmured.

Renie was pouring more coffee. "Who was it?"

Judith repeated the brief conversation with Becca. Her cousin looked stumped. "Something about not digging up Blanche or valuable French coins?"

"I don't know." Judith picked up her car coat. "Let's visit the Sedgewicks. We can brave the heavy fog."

Renie scowled at her cousin. "I'm still in a fog. I need more coffee. What do you think happened to those coins?"

"I bet they're still in the Quimby house, maybe with Blanche and her box. I'd love to see Mr. Moffitt get hold of those. Payback for losing his family home to the Quimbys. Maybe after we get home I'll call the old dear and put a flea in his ear."

"Good idea," Renie said. "I wonder if Mr. Moffitt would find me comely in my tiger stripes?"

"How about terrifying?" Judith shrugged into her car coat. "To quote your husband, 'Let's boppin'!'"

Renie growled. But five minutes later, the cousins were calling on the Sedgewicks. To Judith's bewilderment, the couple's welcome lacked its usual warmth.

"We're about to take off for the grocery store," Jane said. "The fog's starting to lift."

Dick's usually jovial expression seemed forced. "This area's always the last to clear up. The fog gets trapped in the bay. We should expect sunshine once we get out on the main roads."

"Are the Bendareks going with you?" Judith asked.

Jane's hazel eyes were wary. "What do you mean?"

"Something's up," Judith asserted. "Becca let it slip. Does it have to do with Ernie's murder?"

Judith thought both Sedgewicks looked relieved. "No," Dick stated in a firm voice. "That's up to the sheriff's department." He looked at his wife. "What the hell, Jane. Vance will end up telling them."

Jane hesitated, then shrugged. "Come into the kitchen. It's after eleven thirty. Almost time for a prelunch cocktail. What'll it be?"

"Got any of that hot toddy mix left?" Renie asked.

Jane laughed. "Maybe enough for you two. That's about it. Dick and I will settle for a shot of Scotch. You do the honors, lover boy."

Dick busied himself with the drinks. The three women sat at the kitchen table. "The whole thing started with Vance," Jane said. "A while ago, Quincy Quimby engaged Kent Logan to represent the family in a lawsuit against Tank Hilderschmidt, Hank's brother."

"The boathouse remodel?" Judith asked.

"Right," Jane said. "Did Vance tell you about it?"

Judith shook her head. "We did some research. Tank was liable and it was settled out of court."

"Yes. But," Jane went on, "Kent had looked deeper into some of the Quimbys' property sales and how they'd been conducted. Vance helped him because she was savvy about real estate, since both she and Ellen worked for that big law firm after the war. In fact, one of the senior partners was elected governor, as I recall."

"True," Renie said. "He and his wife came to Aunt Ellen and Uncle Win's wedding. Uncle Corky took home movies of the future governor imbibing strong punch at the reception. Aunt Gert wanted to give the film to the local newspapers because the guy was running as a Republican and had publicly announced he was a teetotaler."

Jane shook her head. "Your family. They're a caution. Naturally, Vance was able to point out some of the irregularities in the real estate contracts, especially the freehold section. She also consulted Ernie Glover, who had been an auditor for the state. He agreed that there were irregularities in the agreements that didn't conform to Revised Code of Washington requirements. Kent wasn't as knowledgeable as your aunt when it came to that kind of expertise. His practice was confined to other fields."

Judith was puzzled. "Why hadn't Auntie Vance figured that out when they bought in here?"

"She had," Jane said with a wry smile. "That's why the Webers-and us-are the only ones in the development to not sign such a contract."

Renie rocked in her chair. "Only she could pull that off."

Dick set the hot toddy mugs in front of the cousins and sat down. "Sheer brass on her part. But with that mouth of hers-not to mention her brain-she can get away with it. The only thing bigger than her bazooms is the heart that beats under them."

"So what happens now?" Judith asked, still in awe of her aunt.

Jane frowned. "Kent called a special meeting a week ago Friday night at the grade school outside of Cliffton. They didn't dare hold it here. Vance and Vince were there. In fact, Vince stayed awake for almost the whole thing. At first, some of the younger people like the Crowleys thought it was all a distraction to avoid discussing the sewer issue. But they caved, especially since they were leaving town this weekend."

"You mean," Judith said, "the Friday meeting was a setup?"

"Right." Dick chuckled. "Originally, it was to be the real deal because Quimby and his family knew the sewer question had to come to a vote. That's why Vance wanted you two on hand to cast your ballots for them. But that afternoon Ernie got killed." Dick's voice dragged a bit and he took a sip of Scotch. "We all lost heart. Frankly, we were scared."