My theory was interrupted by a high-pitched shriek from the living room. Crowded house. Lots of people.

I still would have recognized Charles's voice anywhere.

Nev didn't miss a beat; he was out of the kitchen in a second and I was right on his heels, but we had to get through the crowd in the dining room before we could see what was going on. By the time he elbowed his way through the throng gathered in the doorway between the living room and the dining room and I excused myself left and right in his wake, we found Charles backed up against the mahogany buffet, his face as pale as chalk and his mouth hanging open.

There was a large, middle-aged woman standing toe-to-toe with him. She had one meaty hand wrapped around a mantel clock. She was using the other to poke a finger right at Charles's nose.

"How dare you invite us here under false pretenses!" Poke. Poke, poke, poke. "How dare you play us for fools! You haven't heard the last of this, Charles."

"But I didn't...I mean, I couldn't...I mean, how could I...I didn't." He swallowed so hard, I saw Charles's Adam's apple jump all the way from where I stood. "You could be..." He pulled in a rough breath. "You might be wrong, you know, Millicent."

"Me? Wrong?" The woman pulled herself up to her full height, which was a whole lot taller than Charles, and gave him a glare that would have frozen him in his tracks if he wasn't already too frightened to move. "You know me better than that, Charles. I'm a certified appraiser. An expert on clocks and other mechanical antiques. You thought you could fool me, did you?"

"But I didn't..." Out of the corner of his eye, Charles caught sight of me and Nev and breathed a sigh of relief. "Josie..." He gave me a frantic, one-handed wave. "Come over here, Josie. Tell Millicent..." He dared another glance at the irate woman and gulped. "Tell her you've looked over the contents of the house, Josie. Tell her how I asked you to value it all."

I stepped through the crowd. "You asked me," I reminded him. "I told you I wasn't qualified."

"There. See." Millicent banged the clock down on the nearest table. "Besides, whoever she is..." Millicent turned a glare in my direction before she swung back toward Charles. "Even if she put a value on this junk, I would tell you she was wrong. These clocks are fakes, Charles. Every single one of them. I wouldn't be surprised if some of these other things aren't, too."

"You got that right." A voice from the dining room behind us made us all spin around to find a man with silvery hair holding up a small wooden drawer. "These tables look like early New England woodworking, but take a look at this. No dovetail joints. No wooden pegs. And the smell..." He held the drawer to his nose and drew in a long breath. "No oily odor. In fact, no odor at all, which means that desk over there is finished with a water-based latex acrylic. No way that piece is an antique. And before you try to say it is and that it's been restored..." He, too, pointed a finger at Charles. I was beginning to think it was a vintage and antiques collector's gesture that I had somehow failed to learn. "Let me show you the piece de resistance." He flipped over the drawer and pointed, and a collective gasp went up from the crowd. The man's eyes gleamed with rightful indignation. "It's a Phillips-head screw!"

"Screw is right!" someone screamed from the back of the crowd.

"How dare you try to pa.s.s off reproductions as real antiques, Charles," another voice called out.

As one, the crowd moved toward the door. Getting out of it was another thing, but one by one, the gawkers and the collectors filed out of Angela's house.

By the time it was over, Nev, Charles, and I were the only ones left. Nev stood back, his arms crossed over his chest, looking far more intimidating in jeans and a sweater that matched the color of his eyes than I'd ever seen him look in one of his crumpled suits.

Charles, it should be noted, was so stunned, I'm not sure he realized everyone had left until he shook himself out of his daze and glanced around at the flotsam and jetsam piled around us. "It's phony." He pa.s.sed a hand over his eyes. "Finally, I've inherited it all, and it's all...it's all junk."

"The b.u.t.tons weren't." I said this more to Nev than to Charles because I figured Charles was in no condition to listen, anyway.

"Aunt Evelyn's collection." Charles pushed himself upright and whirled around, taking it all in. "I wonder. Did she know? I didn't. I swear, I didn't." He looked at Nev, his eyes pleading. "If I did, I never would have asked all those people to come over and have a look. I never would have..." His jaw went slack, and his face, already pale, turned the bloodless color of the marble Greek G.o.d statue behind him. "Oh my G.o.d," Charles wailed, covering his face with his hands. "What have I done?"

There wasn't much room to move, but Nev managed to step forward. "Are you talking about your reputation in Ardent Lake?" he asked. "Or what happened to Angela?"

Charles ran his tongue over his lips. "I didn't want it all. I never said I did. I just thought that she shouldn't hog everything for herself. She'd gotten more than her fair share from Aunt Evelyn. That's why I did what I did. No one can blame me!"

My voice was breathy when I asked, "You killed Angela?"

All the color came back into Charles's face in a rush. His knees knocked. "Killed her? No! I never did. I just wanted...I just wanted to scare her. I just wanted to make her think that life is short and it doesn't pay to h.o.a.rd all the good stuff for yourself." He swallowed hard, and when he looked at Nev, his eyes were wide and filled with tears. "That's why I did it. That's why I cut the brake lines on Angela's car."

Chapter Fourteen.

BY THE TIME I RECOVERED FROM THE SURPRISE OF THE unexpected confession, we were on the front porch of Angela's house, waiting for the police to come and take Charles's statement. Since he had messed with the brake lines in Angela's garage right there in Ardent Lake, it was a problem for the locals, Nev said. I knew he was right, but since there was a connection to our case-and it might be a pretty darned big one-I had every right to be curious.

"So it wasn't bad luck?" I asked Charles, eager to see if he'd recant now that he'd had time to compose himself. "It wasn't the curse that caused Angela's brake lines to pop?"

With what he'd done, Charles could have caused a serious accident. Or worse. Still, I couldn't help feeling a little sorry for him. He sat on the front steps with his head bowed and tears streaming down his cheeks.

"No, of course not. It was me. Just me," he sobbed. "I never meant to hurt her. You have to believe me. I wanted her to realize that life was short, and she should be generous. And I thought...all right, I admit it! She was already talking about that silly curse, and I thought if she figured this was another piece of bad luck thanks to those b.u.t.tons, she might give the charm string to me. At least then I would have gotten something of value out of this whole mess. Besides, she didn't..." The thought struck and Charles lifted his head and actually managed a watery smile. "Angela didn't get hurt, did she? In spite of what I did, nothing happened to her. So it's not like I actually did anything wrong."

If he was hoping for sympathy from Nev, he didn't get it. "We'll let the police decide," he said. "For now, you can help yourself by telling the truth."

Charles raised his chin and tried for a bravado that wasn't quite convincing. "As sure as the sky is blue, it was all I did. I didn't kill her, if that's what you're thinking. Sure, I wanted my share of Aunt Evelyn's fortune." His face fell. "Well, what I thought was Aunt Evelyn's fortune. I wanted a fair cut. But I didn't want it so bad that I would strangle Angela. That's..." He jiggled his shoulders. "That's creepy."

"And you never broke into Angela's house?" Nev asked.

Charles shook his head.

It was my turn. "You never started that fire in her kitchen?"

Again, he denied it.

"You never talked Angela into canceling the charter boat so she wouldn't dump the charm string in the lake?"

That was me again, and Charles looked at me in wonder. "Why would she want to dump the silly thing in the lake?" The truth dawned and his jaw dropped. "The curse, of course! She was going to dump the b.u.t.tons in the lake? The woman was as crazy as a loon. Not that it matters now. Besides, even if she did want to get rid of the b.u.t.tons, why would I want to talk her out of it? Well..." He thought about it for a couple seconds. "I guess I would seeing as how those b.u.t.tons are the only genuine things in Aunt Evelyn's whole collection." He sniffled.

"Then what about the donation?" Nev had been leaning against the front railing and he pushed off and stalked down the steps. He stood on the front walk, his arms crossed over his chest, and looked up at Charles. "Are you the one who suggested Angela give the b.u.t.tons to Marci's museum?"

"And then," I put in, sitting down next to Charles, "did you talk her out of that and tell her to give the charm string to Susan instead?"

He was the one who'd just confessed to cutting the brake lines on his cousin's car, so he shouldn't have looked at me as if I was the crazy person. "The first I ever heard about that charm string was when Angela told me about the curse. Of course I ignored her. Who wouldn't? She mentioned it every time I saw her and I was more and more convinced that she'd gone off the deep end. Then the next thing I knew, she called to invite me to a tea the Big Museum was having in her honor. She said it was because she was giving the charm string to them. Before that, I can't tell you what happened or what she did with the silly thing or what her plans were. You say she was going to give it to Marci? Then she actually gave it to Susan?"

"Well, she never got to the point of actually giving it to Susan," I reminded him.

"Susan! Did I hear you talking about Susan?"

Since we hadn't seen Larry come around from the back of the house, I think his question startled us all. I jumped. Charles pulled in a breath. I'm sure Nev was just as surprised, too, but he never moved a muscle, just looked over to where Larry hurried around the rhododendrons.

"We're supposed to be going to lunch," Larry said, dapper that day in dark pants and a purple golf shirt. "And I can't find her."

Instantly, I felt guilty, even though I knew I shouldn't. "I was supposed to tell you, but I never had the opportunity. We didn't run into each other in the house," I said to Larry as if that in itself was enough of an explanation. "Susan forgot her purse, you see. She didn't want to be without her cell phone. She went back to the museum to get it."

He glanced at his watch. "Just now?"

"Well, no." I thought about when we'd run into Susan-it was right after Nev had tossed out that bone-melting comment about us staying at the B and B together-and all that had happened since. "Come to think of it," I said, "it was quite a long while ago."

Larry looked around. There was a late-model blue Ford Focus parked a couple houses down the street. "That's her car," he said. "Which means she hasn't come back. No doubt she got distracted by some project or another. I swear, that woman lives and breathes for that museum." Maybe he'd been upstairs when the announcement came down about the fake antiques and Charles's disgrace. With a look, Larry included me, Nev, and yes, Charles and I guess he forgave me for what I'd said to him that day at his store because he said, "Join us for lunch, why don't you. We're meeting over at the Bayside. Charming little place, usually right on the water. Now, we'll get a look at what's going on at the reservoir."

"We can meet you there," Nev told him. "As soon as we're done with the local police. Charles has some things he needs to talk to them about."

"Yes. Of course." Larry got his car keys out of his pocket. "But just so you know, I heard sirens a little while ago from over near the Parkway." He waved in some indeterminate direction. It was, apparently, how Larry gave directions. "No doubt, there was an accident of some sort. It's Sunday and I guarantee you that Jimmy Carns is the only officer on duty. If you're waiting for him, chances are you're going to be waiting for a long time. You could go over to the Bayside now-"

"Or we could come with you to pick up Susan, then we could all leave from there." I stood and marched down the steps. Yeah, I was being a little pushy, but let's face it, love of b.u.t.tons goes right along with love of old things. The chance to get a peek behind the scenes before the museum opened was too tempting to pa.s.s up.

"All right." Larry put his keys back in his pocket. "We can all walk over there. Charles, are you coming?"

"Am I?" Charles asked Nev.

Rather than risk having Charles run off, Nev said yes.

The four of us walked the short distance between Angela's house and the museum. Because the Big Museum wasn't scheduled to open for another hour, the front door was locked.

"Not to worry." Larry led us around the side of the building. "On the days Susan is the first one here, she always leaves this door open so the docents don't have to wait for her to unlock the front door."

He opened the door he indicated, and we stepped inside.

As I suspected, the Big Museum was quiet, and after the commotion over at Angela's, it was a welcome relief. I drew in a breath of air faintly scented with the comforting aroma of old things, and followed Larry down a short corridor that led us up three steps, through a door, and into that main entryway just inside the museum's front door.

"Her office is this way," Larry said, heading straight down the hallway. "I'll go get her and tell her you're waiting. That will light a fire under her."

While he was gone, it gave me the perfect chance to wander, and I intended to make the most of it. While Charles and Nev waited in the hallway, I strolled into the room that featured all those wonderful old photographs of Ardent, intending to take another look so I could compare what used to be with what we were going to see down at the reservoir.

I never had the chance.

Just inside the doorway, I stopped cold, and my voice wobbling, I called for Nev.

He is, after all, the professional. With any luck, he wouldn't be stunned and frightened out of his gourd by the scene that met our eyes. Not like I was.

My heart in my throat, my blood hammering in my temples, I stared at Susan, lying on the floor just inside the doorway. She was on her back in a pool of blood, her arms splayed at her sides, one leg c.o.c.ked at an unnatural angle. One of the photos of old Ardent had been taken down off the wall and used to batter her over the head and shards of gla.s.s glittered in her ashen hair.

I didn't need to wait to see Nev kneel down beside her, feel for a pulse, and shake his head.

One look, and I knew Susan wouldn't be joining us for lunch.

JIMMY CARNS MIGHT have been taking that accident report up on the Parkway, but he hotfooted it right over when Nev called the station and the dispatcher relayed a message that included the word murder. Within fifteen minutes, Jimmy's boss and the mayor had arrived at the Big Museum, too, and with the Ardent photo room packed, I'd been asked to step out into the hallway and stay out of the way.

I was only too happy to oblige. Finding two bodies in the s.p.a.ce of two weeks does not do good things to a girl.

Of course, I wasn't the only one reeling. Charles had gotten a glimpse of the carnage and that was all it took for his already-shaky composure to dissolve completely. Sobbing, he flopped into a delicate-looking wing chair just inside the front door. When he heard me call for Nev, Larry had hurried out of Susan's office and had found us bent over her body. Now, pasty and trembling, he paced the hallway.

"It can't be true. It can't be happening. Not again." Larry's voice jumped to the same restless beat as his footsteps. "We just found each other again. To think that Susan's gone, too. Just like..." His voice broke. "Just like Angela."

"Yeah, Angela." Since I, too, was too worked up to keep still, Larry and I were at opposite ends of the hallway from each other, and it was just as well. I was trying to make sense of a situation that was messed up to the extreme. First Angela. Now Susan. Angela who'd owned the charm string. Susan who was supposed to be receiving it as a donation. Both murdered.

No way it was a coincidence.

I closed the distance between me and Larry. "When was the last time you saw Susan?" I asked him.

Under any other circ.u.mstances, I was sure he wouldn't have had to stop and think about it. But stress does strange things. To our brains and to our bodies. Larry's breaths were coming hard and fast, and when I spotted a water fountain near the entrance, I went over there, took one of the little paper cups from a dispenser on the wall and filled it, and brought it back to him.

He drank down the water in one gulp. "Thank you," he said. "You're very kind."

"I'm very curious." There was no use hiding the fact, especially since-dead girlfriend or no dead girlfriend-I wasn't planning on letting up on the questions. "When did you say you saw Susan last?"

He pa.s.sed a hand over his eyes. "This morning," Larry said. "When she got to Angela's. I got there a few minutes ahead of her and I waited for her on the front porch. When she arrived, we went into the house together, but...well, you can understand how easy it was for us to get separated in that house of horrors. Before we did, though, we talked about what we'd do the rest of the day. We said we'd go to lunch together after the preview."

"And did it seem like anything was wrong?" I asked.

"With Susan?" Larry paused to think about it. "It's hard to say," he admitted. "What I mean is, we'd been apart for a while. You know that. You know I was dating Angela. Susan and I were just finding our way back to some sort of relationship. We were taking small steps. Sometimes..." He drew in a trembling breath and let it out slowly. "Sometimes, she seemed distant. Not that I'm saying I blame her. After all, I'm the one who made the mistake of breaking up with her and going to Angela."

"Did Susan feel any resentment?"

Larry shot me a look. "Resentment is a strong word."

"It's a strong emotion," I reminded him.

I thought he might argue, but honestly, I don't think Larry had the energy. He drew in a breath and let it out slowly. "I don't think Susan so much resented what happened between me and Angela as much as she was hurt by it. And honestly, I couldn't hold that against her. I was heartless. Not to mention stupid. And now..." His voice cracked. "Now I'll never have a chance to prove to her how wrong I was to ever let her go in the first place."

"But you and Angela, you said you were solid that day she died."

Larry's breathing stilled. "Yes, we were. Just like I told you. Angela and I had a little tiff, but we settled things. The last time I saw her, we were in a good place."

"A good place that you've since decided was stupid."

Larry pinned me with a look. "I didn't say it was stupid."

"You said it was stupid to ever break up with Susan in the first place. That must mean it was stupid for you to date Angela. But now you're telling me you were happy with Angela. Which is it, Larry?"

"Are you trying to send me over the edge?" I don't think Larry was actually expecting an answer to this question. One hand on either side of his head, he raked his fingers through his thick hair. "What difference does it make now, anyway?" he asked. "I've lost Angela. And I've lost Susan. Two wonderful women. Gone. Gone, too soon."

"And now all we can do is wonder why. And who did it."

"Yes." Larry bobbed his head. "Yes, we have to do everything we can to bring this monster to justice."

I couldn't have agreed with him more, but I didn't have a chance to tell him. The hallway door-the one we'd come in just a short time before-opened, and Marci stuck her red, spiky head into the museum. "What's going on?" The rest of her followed, wobbling on heels as high as any I'd ever seen. "I was just driving by and I saw the police cars." The cops were all gathered in the room across the hall with the body and a noise from that direction made Marci glance that way. "Something happened? Something bad?"

The worst, and I told her all we knew and watched Marci's face turn a sickly green. One arm out, she braced herself against the wall. "Oh my G.o.d, poor Susan. I just saw her. Over at Angela's. She was...she was fine."

Who was I to be the voice of cynicism and point out that that's the way murder usually works: fine one minute, dead the next.

Instead, I stuck to facts. "We were all at Angela's," I pointed out. "Larry, I saw you in the kitchen. Did you leave at any time?"

"Me?" He poked a finger at his chest. "I...well, yes...If you consider going out to Angela's garage leaving. There was a collection of old tools out there that I wanted to take a look at."

"Was anyone out there with you?"

"Are you implying..." At his sides, Larry's hands curled into fists. A muscle jumped at the base of his jaw. "As a matter of fact," he said from between clenched teeth, "there were three other fellows out there. No one I knew, so I can't give you their names. Maybe you'd better have your police friends issue an all-points bulletin to find the guys so you can ask them if I'm lying."