"That would be too easy," Judith said, forgoing the too-low-to-the-floor recliner for an overstuffed chair on the other side of a small table.

"Bill loves coming up here," Renie said. "At home, he takes long walks around the hill, but what he likes best is a beach. One time when we were up here, he was gone for over two hours. It was bliss. Too much of a good thing, as my dad always said, is ungood. Unless it's honeycomb covered in dark chocolate. Don't they have a candy store in Langton?"

"I think so, but we're not supposed to go anywhere until the sheriff's department says so."

"That's too dumb. Who'd know?"

"Coz . . ." Judith gave Renie a hard stare.

Renie ignored the look. "We can go tomorrow. Hey, maybe for once the real detectives will find the killer. There's no dark chocolate in this house. I looked. That's how I found the taffy. Auntie Vance watches her weight, but she still tastes everything she cooks as she goes along."

Judith sighed. "Now I'm hungry for more of that pie," she said, getting up and going to the kitchen. "You want some?"

"Not yet," Renie replied. "I'll get a megasnack later."

"Which often turns into another meal," Judith pointed out, reaching for a plate above the counter. Her hand fell away. "Coz! Did you write something on Auntie Vance's magnet notepad on the cupboard?"

"No. Why would I?"

"Come look. I don't want to touch it."

"What the . . . ?" Renie got up and hurried to join Judith.

The hand-printed note in black ink said BUTT OUT OR ELSE!!!

"Damn!" Renie said under her breath. "So much for leaving the door unlocked. That's creepy."

Judith rubbed at her strong chin. "Yes, it is. We're locking up tonight. We've got to show this to Jacobson. I wonder if we should notify the sheriff's office now?"

"Why not?" Renie was already at the door, making sure it was now locked. "It might help eliminate us as suspects. If we really are, I mean."

"You're right. Hand me the phone book from the shelf by the door. I don't want to make a 911 call. That's overkill. So to speak."

There were several listings for the county sheriff's department. The headquarters was located in the largest town on the island, some thirty miles to the north. There were two other stations, the nearest being in Langton. Judith dialed the number, but a recording informed her the office was closed and to call the main number or try again between 8 A.M. and 5:30 P.M.

"I forget what life is like away from the big city," she grumbled, dialing the headquarters listing. "People in small towns and rural areas do live at a slower . . . Yes," she said, changing gears as a reedy-voiced woman answered. "Is Lieutenant Jacobson available?" He wasn't. Judith asked if he could be reached. She was informed he was off duty. Could someone else help? Judith started to say yes-and thought better of it. "No. I'll get in touch with him tomorrow." She rang off and began perusing the island directory for Jacobsons.

Renie looked puzzled. "He should've left his card. Isn't that what Joe used to do when he was on the force?"

"I'm not sure they did that back then," Judith said. "There are four Jacobsons, two with the initial E. Same family, maybe. Erik, right?"

"Yes," Renie agreed as the phone rang.

Judith grabbed the receiver. "Hello?" she all but shouted.

"Jacobson here," he responded in his now-familiar calm, authoritative tone. "You called?"

"I did, Lieutenant," she said to alert Renie. "How did you find out?"

"I'm off duty, but still on the case. Whoever answered the phone noticed it came from Obsession Shores. What were you calling about?"

Suddenly feeling foolish, Judith took a deep breath. "I don't mean to be an alarmist, but after we returned from a meeting at the clubhouse, we found a rather menacing note that someone left here."

Jacobson asked what the note said. Judith read it to him, adding that it was printed. "Where was this note found?" the officer inquired.

"On a kitchen cupboard door," she replied.

"Did you leave the door unlocked?"

"Yes." Judith winced. "My aunt didn't leave us a key."

A brief silence seemed to echo over the line. "Our longtime residents have some bad habits," Jacobson finally said. "They're living in a time warp. The island has changed with the population growth. I'll stop by in about ten minutes." He rang off.

Judith looked at Renie. "Auntie Vance and Uncle Vince apparently think we're still in the twentieth century. According to Jacobson, The Rock really isn't paradise."

Renie shrugged. "I never thought it was. Most people who move to retirement communities insist it's heaven on earth. They don't want their judgment questioned. Remember when Bill took that seminar before he retired? The first thing is don't move, not even out of your house, let alone out of the area. Second is don't move anywhere that doesn't have nearby medical facilities. Third is-"

"I know, I know," Judith interrupted with a wave of her hand. "Do not buy an RV if you're half blind or scared to get your driver's license renewed. What we have to do now is figure out how to secure the house. No access to the main floor from the basement, but that still leaves the front door and the back door in the laundry room."

Renie was unwrapping more taffy. "It's a good thing Bill never wanted to buy an RV. They don't have room service and honor bars."

"You're spoiled," Judith declared. "Hillside Manor doesn't have those amenities either."

"That's why I've never stayed at your B&B," Renie said before popping a piece of taffy into her mouth.

"You've stayed overnight with me there."

"Ewahfwee."

"Yes, I know it was free." Judith scowled at the door. "Maybe we can put the overstuffed chair in front of the door for added security."

Renie swallowed the taffy. "Hey, if they really want to get in, they can break a window." She paused, suddenly looking alert. "I think I hear a car. It's sure quiet around here at night."

"It's quiet during the day. Except for finding corpses and going to meetings," Judith added, dropping her voice.

"You think the walls have ears?" Renie asked. "What does that mean? Really. Think about it."

"No, I won't," Judith retorted, moving to the door. "I should have left it unlocked. Then Jacobson could just walk in."

"Darn," Renie said. "He might give us police protection."

"You want to spend the night with a sheriff's deputy?"

Renie shrugged. "Why not? You've been sleeping with a cop for years. Jacobson's not that bad-looking."

After the first rap sounded, Judith opened the door. "Come in," she said, stepping aside. "You must think we're foolish."

"No," Jacobson replied, nodding at Renie, who had shoved some more taffy in her mouth. "Your relatives are, though. We've had three break-ins this past month on the other side of the bay at Scratchit Head. Where's the note?"

Judith pointed to the cupboard. "I didn't touch it," she assured him. "We haven't spent much time in the kitchen area since we got back from the clubhouse. You might want to check the counters for-"

Jacobson paused in the act of putting on a pair of latex gloves and glared at Judith. "You think I don't know my job, Mrs. Flynn?"

Embarrassed, Judith leaned against the counter. "Sorry. I guess I . . . watch . . . too . . . much TV." The last words were mumbled. She grabbed Renie by the arm. "Let's sit down."

Assuming their previous places, both cousins tried to keep from watching Jacobson. That was not a problem for Renie, who was eating more taffy, but Judith had to force herself to keep her eyes from darting into the kitchen area. A glance at her watch showed it was 8:25. Somehow it seemed as if it should be much later.

"Okay," Jacobson said as he put the note in his evidence kit. "I'd better take your prints now. I assume neither of you is on file anywhere?"

Renie almost choked on her taffy. Judith gaped at the deputy. "Well . . . actually, we may be," she finally replied. "You see, we were once involved in a homicide case. Well, more than once, but somewhere along the way we had to have our prints taken."

Jacobson had come out from behind the counter. "Which jurisdiction was that, Mrs. Flynn?"

"Offhand, I'm . . . not sure." She winced. "Do you remember, coz?"

Renie swallowed the taffy. "The family event at the B&B?"

"Which one?" Judith asked.

"The . . . first one, with Otto Brodie and his ghastly gang?"

Judith thought for a moment. "Maybe. Or was it the one up at church with the Easter Bunny?"

Renie shook her head. "I think it was more recent. Maybe when Herself found the dead guy under the tree in her yard."

"I don't think so. It had to be before that. What about the body at the apartment house down at the bottom of the hill?"

"The corpse behind the wall or the one on the bed?"

"Hold it," Jacobson ordered in less than his normal calm tone. Apparently, he felt the need to sit down in the recliner. "Maybe it'd be easier for me to check you through the system."

"Really, we don't mind," Judith insisted. She gave a start. "Wait," she said, looking at Renie. "Your fingerprints don't take, right?"

Her cousin nodded. "I lack grooves." She wiggled her thumbs as if to prove the point. Or, Judith thought, the lack of . . . But she decided it was best not to think about how really weird Renie could often be.

"Forget it," Jacobson said, with a hint of exasperation. "I ran you two through the system. You're married to a retired homicide detective, Mrs. Flynn. I assume that's how you became acquainted with murder cases. We law enforcement types try not to take our work home with us, but it happens. Sometimes we need to vent in a safe place."

"Yes, of course," Judith agreed. "I understand."

"As for you, Mrs. Jones," he continued, "your husband is a psychologist. While he probably wouldn't breach patient confidentiality, he might occasionally share certain symptoms he's treating."

"True," Renie conceded. "He never names names. Bill's very professional. It's always Mr. Goofball or Mrs. Nut Job or Ms. I-Can't-Believe-She's-Allowed-in-a-Public-Venue."

"Ah . . . right." Jacobson opened his notebook and turned back to Judith. "What time did you leave here?"

"About ten to seven," Judith said, though she hadn't really noticed. "It's a short drive to the clubhouse, as you know."

Jacobson nodded absently. "What time did you get back?"

The cousins exchanged glances. "Seven-thirtyish?" Judith replied.

The deputy made a note. "Did you leave the lights on?"

"Yes," Judith said. "The porch light and the ones that are on now."

"That," Jacobson said, "was a short meeting. Did you leave early?"

"No," Judith replied. "The meeting ended abruptly because it got . . . sort of out of control."

He leaned forward, hands on his knees. "Can you explain why?"

Judith took a deep breath. "It was supposed to be a vote on whether a sewer system should replace the current septic tanks. Before they could do that, there were some people who felt they didn't have enough information to cast an intelligent vote."

"Or," Renie put in, "they didn't have enough intelligence, period. All hell broke loose."

Jacobson sat up straight again. "In what way?"

"Arguing and shouting," Judith replied. "I think one woman may've fainted. Then the chairperson-Hank Hilderschmidt-adjourned the meeting. Sort of, that is. He tossed his gavel and walked out. Everybody headed for the exits."

"I see." The deputy frowned. "Then it had nothing to do with Ernest Glover's death. I thought they might have canceled the meeting, given the circumstances."

Judith realized that Jacobson found the Obsession Shores residents' behavior odd. "Hank did ask for a moment of silence in Mr. Glover's memory."

"In a half-assed way," Renie said. "I'm using our aunt's terminology here. A less obscene version thereof, by the way."

Jacobson evinced mild interest in the comment. "Are you insinuating that Mr. Hilderschmidt didn't like Mr. Glover-or that the deceased wasn't well liked in general?"

Renie glanced at Judith. "You answer that one, coz," she said. "You're a better people person than I am."

Judith frowned. "It's hard to say. We were near the back. Renie and I don't know these people, except for the Sedgewicks and the Friedmans. A few others have been pointed out to us over the years, including Mr. Glover. But that's it."

The deputy again nodded before looking at the few notes he'd jotted down. "Can you be more precise about when you returned here?"

Judith turned to Renie. "Maybe a little before seven thirty? We were sort of in the middle of the pack going out the main door. Some of the others went out the rear exit where Hank Hilderschmidt had gone. Oh! I see what you mean. It's unlikely that anyone attending the meeting could also have come here to leave the note."

"No," Jacobson said. "It's quite possible. There was enough time for someone who was at the meeting to have gotten here before you did. In fact, whoever left that note might still have been inside the house when you arrived and went out the other door at the end of the house."

On that chilling note, Judith changed the subject. "Did you ever find the weapon?"

He shook his head. "It may have been thrown into the water or buried in the sand some distance away."

Judith decided to press her luck. "Have you been able to figure out what kind of weapon was used? That is, from the entry of the stab wounds."

"Something sharp," Jacobson replied, looking grim. "Pointed and tapering to a width of at least five inches."

Before Judith could say anything else, he stood up and announced he was taking his leave. But first he produced two padlocks with keys. "It's not safe for you to be unable to secure the house. Given our preliminary investigation, you're free to leave Obsession Shores tomorrow. I don't need to remind you there's a murderer on the loose. Of course," he went on, moving to the door, "I have the impression you're both aware of the danger this sort of situation can present."

Judith and Renie nodded. There really was nothing more to say. When it came to murder, "been there and done that" was too glib. The cousins realized they'd been very lucky over the years. But luck had a way of running in streaks. Eventually it always ran out.