Except carry luggage, I thought begrudgingly. Or maybe that was just the way he acted around visitors.

"As for me, I decided to play the fool with a c.o.c.kney accent," Gwennie explained. "I didn't want the lady of the house to see me as compet.i.tion, so I figured acting as if I wasn't too bright--or too attractive--would be seen as an a.s.set."

I had to admit that I was impressed by the fact that she'd thought of every angle. She had even custom-designed her accent and her hairstyle for the role.

"We were presented with quite a few opportunities," Gwennie continued. "We interviewed at a number of places, but the potential employers either weren't rich enough or old enough. We had to come up with different excuses not to take those jobs. Too far from New York, not enough pay, whatever. Then this gig came up."

A dreamy smile crossed her face. "We knew right away that it was perfect. We'd actually heard of the Merrywoods, all the way over in England. Of course, we'd made a point of learning everything we could about the richest people in America. And Linus Merrywood was near the top of the list.

"We knocked ourselves out at the interview, and lo and behold we got the job. The two of us started working here a year and a half ago." Her eyes grew as big as hamburger buns as she added, "I remember the first time I set eyes on this place. I couldn't believe how huge it was. It's true that it's seen better days, but I could still see that the Merrywoods were dripping with money.

"As for Jonathan, he was positively thrilled," she went on. "In fact, I'd never seen him so happy. He was convinced we'd found the perfect way to strike it rich. All we had to do was act like two devoted servants, kissing up to the old man every chance we got, and we'd walk away with a nice chunk of money--hopefully enough to keep us both on Easy Street for a while."

Somehow, her use of the words Easy Street reminded me of Fleet Street--as in Sweeney Todd, the demon barber of.

"Did it work?" I asked simply.

"What?" Gwennie looked confused, as if she'd gotten lost in telling her story.

"Did Linus name you and Jonathan in his will?"

"I--I don't know," she replied, suddenly fl.u.s.tered. "Linus never actually said anything about it. I suppose Jonathan and I won't know whether or not our ploy worked until the reading of his will."

At this point, I was as curious as she was to know if the two of them had achieved their goal of going from bogus butler and mendacious maid to heir and heiress. After all, they hadn't been working for Linus for very long, especially compared to the family's cook.

Then again, they could have come to the conclusion that they'd already been successful in ingratiating themselves with Linus. Or maybe Gwennie had lied about knowing whether or not she and Jonathan were in the will. Perhaps Linus had even come right out and told them he'd included them.

Or maybe they'd simply gotten impatient and decided to b.u.mp off the old man and hope for the best. After all, Gwennie had told me herself that Jonathan was temperamental.

As if she had read my mind, Gwennie suddenly said, "But just because we were hoping to get a piece of the old man's fortune doesn't mean we ever wished him any harm. Or that either one of us is capable of murder."

She stood up a little straighter as she added, "Some people might see what we were doing as stealing. But stealing money is a far cry from killing someone!

"In fact," she continued, her voice wavering, "that's why I'm being honest with you. I intend to tell our whole story to the police, too. I want them to know I'm cooperating fully. If they see that I'm being honest, I'm hoping they'll believe that I had nothing to do with Linus's murder."

And Jonathan? I thought. Is he planning to come forth with the truth, as well?

"But there is something else," she said, twisting her fingers again. "I don't mind telling you all this because, well, I hardly know you. And since you overheard what Jonathan and I were saying and all, I don't want you forming the wrong opinion. But would you do me one favor?"

"What is it?" I asked skeptically.

"Please don't say anything to the Merrywoods," she said, sounding almost like a scared little girl. "I actually became quite fond of them while I was working here. Not Taggart. He's slime, as far as I'm concerned. But I really have a lot of respect for Charlotte. I'd rather she didn't find out what Jonathan and I were up to."

I thought about her request for a few seconds, then said, "I don't see any reason to say anything at this point."

At least not to the Merrywoods. I was so anxious to tell Nick what I'd just found out that I was as ready to burst as an overfilled balloon.

"Thanks, Jessie," Gwennie said. "I really appreciate that." Both her smile and her grat.i.tude struck me as sincere.

"By the way," I asked, "you told me Jonathan's real name, but you haven't told me yours."

"It's Gwendolyn." She sighed, then added, "It was hard enough living a lie day in and day out. I figured the least I could do was hang on to one piece of truth: my own name."

As if I should feel sorry for you, I thought angrily. Playing a charade like this for months on end, all to wrangle a few bucks out of an old man.

Pretty despicable.

Still, as Gwennie had pointed out, stealing wasn't murder. And I still wasn't convinced the two of them had carried off their plan of winning Linus over.

Yet I couldn't discount them completely. Especially if Gwennie and Jonathan had reason to believe that their plan had succeeded and that Linus had written them both into his will. If he had, one more possible scenario was that he had suddenly seen through their ruse and was planning to change the will. In that case, waiting for him to die a natural death could have cost them. Perhaps a lot.

So while Gwennie insisted that her confession about what she and Jonathan were up to was enough to clear her, knowing the truth had only solidified their place on my list.

Once again, I headed back to my bedroom--and Nick. I was anxious to update him, as well as to spend a little good old-fashioned quality time with him.

But as I entered the bedroom, the excited look on his face told me he had some news of his own.

"What have you been up to?" I asked, grinning.

"Plenty," he replied. "I took your request that I find out whatever I could about the dangerous liaison between Missy and Harry Foss very seriously."

"Did you have any luck?" I demanded eagerly.

Feigning indignation, he replied, "I can a.s.sure you that my impressive success in finding out everything you wanted to know had nothing to do with luck."

Grimacing, I said, "Don't tell me. It was all due to that secret weapon of yours, right? The old Burby charm?"

"Exactly." He grinned. "Hey, you're the one who told me to take advantage of the fact that I'm the next best thing since James Bond."

I chuckled. "Okay, James. What did you find out?"

"That Missy has been having an affair with Harry since the beginning of last summer," Nick said. "The two of them had run into each other a few times over the years, but they were never anything more than casual acquaintances. But back in June, it seems they were both attending some corporate function--a reception at the top of the Empire State Building--and they just clicked. Scarlett said something about their eyes meeting over the buffet table."

"It sounds terribly romantic," I said, picturing Harry and Missy gazing at each other across a dune-size mound of pasta salad. "But how can Scarlett be so sure about all this?"

"Because Missy confided in her," Nick explained. "She told me the two of them have become pretty close. Missy was apparently dying to talk about it, and Scarlett was someone she trusted."

"Scarlett spilled the beans to you pretty easily," I observed. "So she's not as reliable a confidante as Missy thought."

"Surely you couldn't expect anyone to resist the famous Burby charm!"

"Speaking of which," I said, looking at him askance, "exactly how did you manage to get all this information out of the una.s.suming Miss Scarlett?"

"Nothing I can't admit to," Nick a.s.sured me teasingly. "Just a little harmless flirting. And only enough to get her talking. All those years I spent as a private eye taught me a little something about how to get information out of people without them noticing."

I sighed. "So all is not as it appears with the happy couple--Missy and her husband, I mean."

"Not if you consider the wife's extracurricular activity a good indication," Nick replied.

"The question is whether her secret love affair with Harry had anything to do with Linus," I mused.

"Maybe Missy finally decided to leave Townie," Nick conjectured, "but she needed more money to do it. After all, it looks as if Townie was the moneymaker in that family."

"True," I added. "And while Harry makes big bucks, if Linus learned his daughter was leaving a son-in-law he was fond of--and leaving him for Linus's business partner, no less--he might have disapproved to the point where he'd have fired Harry."

"Still, if that happened, Harry could have easily gotten another job," Nick noted. "So it's hard to believe that money would have been a motive."

"Unless Linus had a vengeful side and found a way to get Harry blacklisted," I said. "But here's another idea: that Harry was anxious to take over Merrywood Industries and somehow his relationship with Linus's daughter was likely to get in the way. According to Winston, now that Linus is dead, Harry is in charge of the company. a.s.suming that's true, that means he can run things however he pleases."

"That scenario sounds plausible," Nick agreed. "Then again, maybe Harry killed Linus for reasons that had nothing to do with Missy. Maybe he just couldn't wait any longer to take over the company."

"That could be," I said. "Harry told me himself that he and Linus disagreed on certain aspects of the business. Maybe Linus was about to take Merrywood Industries in a direction that Harry found intolerable."

Nick and I were both silent for a few seconds. I was still thinking about all the possible ramifications of Harry's affair with Linus's daughter when Nick said, "Aren't you going to ask me what else I found out?"

I blinked. "About what?"

"About the beguiling Miss Scarlett," Nick replied. "Just because I was talking to her with the goal of finding out whatever I could about Missy and Harry doesn't mean I didn't also learn plenty about her."

"Okay," I said, my eyes narrowing. "And what did you find out about her?"

"That she has a boyfriend."

I raised an eyebrow. "You mean a boyfriend as in someone other than Linus?"

Now it was Nick's turn to look surprised. "You mean Scarlett and Linus were--"

"It's just a rumor," I a.s.sured him. "Cook seems to believe either she or Gwennie was involved with Linus, but that doesn't mean it's true."

Warily, Nick said, "Frankly, I don't know if anything was going on between Linus and Scarlett. But she told me she's been dating someone seriously for almost two years. A doctor. A surgeon, in fact. An orthopedic surgeon. They met when she broke her wrist skiing."

A surgeon, huh? That meant her beau was someone who made a pretty good salary--which could explain her pricey possessions.

"He also happens to be an older man," Nick added.

"How much older?" I was back to thinking about Linus. I wondered if there was a pattern here--if Scarlett tended to go for men who were several decades her senior, including both her boss and her surgeon.

"He's thirty-five," Nick said. "'An older guy,' she called him, even though he's around my age." Frowning, he mused, "Gee, I never thought of myself as 'an older guy' before."

"She only thinks thirty-five is older because she's something like twenty-four or twenty-five," I rea.s.sured him.

"That's a relief." Nick sighed. "Although I have noticed a few gray hairs lately."

"It's only when you notice no hair that you have to start worrying," I told him.

"Besides," I added, patting his hand affectionately, "I've already agreed to stay with you in sickness and in health and all kinds of other contingencies. I'm pretty sure those vows you and I took covered gray hair and baldness and everything else that comes along with you turning into an older guy."

"So I guess you're stuck with me," Nick said with a grin.

"Like glue," I said, grinning back. "Krazy Glue, the kind that never gets unstuck."

Nick and I were marveling over the fact that we were bonded for life--something I still hadn't gotten completely used to--when I heard Betty outside our closed bedroom door, calling us in a soft voice.

"Jessica? Nick? I hope I'm not disturbing you ..."

"You know what she thinks we were doing, don't you?" I asked Nick teasingly.

"Another two minutes and she would have been right," he replied, moving his eyebrows up and down in a lascivious way.

I just rolled my eyes. "Come on in, Betty," I called back.

She opened the door hesitantly, then looked relieved to find Nick and me sitting side by side on the bed, fully clothed. True, my hair was mussed and our clothes were a bit disheveled. But I figured she was afraid she might find us in a considerably more compromising position.

"Sorry to bother you," Betty said, "but Linus's lawyer just arrived, and he's about to read the will. I suggested to Charlotte that she might want those of us who are outsiders to find something else to do, but she invited us to join everyone else downstairs. I thought you would be interested ..."

Nick and I exchanged excited glances.

"We're interested," I a.s.sured her. "We'll be down in a second."

As she closed the door behind her, Nick whispered to me, "I think this may be the part where the plot thickens."

"Maybe we'll get some answers," I replied, less interested in the drama of the event than in the possibility that it might help me put my finger on the killer.

As soon as Nick and I put ourselves back in order, we rushed down to the first floor. Charlotte was standing at the bottom of the staircase, chatting with a man who was a newcomer to Solitude Island.

Glancing up at us, she said, "I see you two have decided to join us for the reading of Linus's will. You might as well, since I'm sure that afterward everyone in this household will be talking about nothing else."

She placed her hand gently on the newcomer's arm. "Let me introduce Oliver Withers. He's been our family attorney for years."

Charlotte made it sound as if having a family attorney was as common as having a family doctor--or a family pet. Of course, now that I was married to a lawyer, I supposed I had a family attorney of my own.

This particular one happened to look very lawyerly. While he didn't have much in the way of hair, the silver strands that remained did a really good job of staying in place. He was dressed in a conservative gray suit that had either been made for him or customized by an expert tailor. The blue in his striped black-and-blue tie was almost the exact color of his shirt. Instead of ordinary b.u.t.tons at the ends of his sleeves, he wore cuff links. Gold ones, engraved with his initials.

I made a mental note to get Nick a pair of those as a graduation present.

Nick and I barely had a chance to shake the attorney's hand before Scarlett came scurrying toward us. "I see you've met Mr. Withers," she said to us. Turning to Charlotte, she added, "It's probably a good idea to hold the reading of Mr. Merrywood's will in the conservatory. That way, there'll be plenty of room for all of us."

As Nick and I followed Charlotte, Mr. Withers, and Scarlett into the conservatory, I saw that Tag, Brock, Missy, and Townie were already in attendance, along with Harry, Betty, and Winston. It looked as if Charlotte had also invited Jonathan-as-Jives, Gwennie, and Cook to sit in. That made fifteen of us in all.

The womenfolk lined the couch and filled the chairs, while once again most of the menfolk chose to stand in front of the fireplace or elsewhere in the room. Only Brock opted for the floor. He sat in the lotus position, with his legs folded pretzel-style and his feet balanced on top of his knees.

"I see that everyone is here," Mr. Withers said as his eyes traveled around the room.

"Excuse me," I piped up, having just realized that wasn't quite the case. "Shouldn't we ask Alvira to join us?"