I gave a deep sigh, feeling real empathy for her, one of the few innocent Brown family members. "I had another conversation with your mother. She told me you talked to her this afternoon. I'm glad."

JJ looked ready to burst into tears. "She said she was going to talk to you. I knew if you told the detective, she'd be questioned again, and I didn't want her to think I was sneaking around behind her back. It never occurred to me that Bliss got the note from her. I thought Bliss was only protecting Cappy."

"Your mom's pretty upset that Bliss and you are involved. She said she was sorry she came back and even sorrier you and Bliss are here."

"She's always tried to protect us, but now I think she needs our help. It's her family and, whether she likes it or not, ours, too. So, now that you know who gave Bliss the note, what do we do?"

"I have a problem, JJ. I also ran into Cappy when I was there and foolishly tried to find out what was going on with the winery now that Giles is dead. I think I might have blown it with her. She asked me not to come out to the ranch again without calling first even though she knew that Bliss specifically invited me. She's suspicious, and I don't think I can safely ask any more questions."

"What are we going to do, then?" she asked, tears filling her eyes. "Bliss is the one I'm really worried about. She came over to my house after work this afternoon because she felt too sick to drive to the ranch. I'm afraid something bad's going to happen. She loves Cappy as much as she does me, Susa, and Moonie. I'm not sure how she'll take it if Cappy is the one who killed Giles."

"We don't know that yet. A note that may or may not be blackmail is only circumstantial evidence. That much law I do know. As for Bliss, talk to your mom and see if the two of you can convince her to stay with you in town for a few days. If she's not at the ranch, maybe she'll calm down."

"I'll try, but Bliss feels so darn responsible. Like she has to protect all of us every minute. We have to do something." She watched me expectantly, waiting for me to think of something. I felt like screaming, "Who put me in charge of piecing your family back together?" A slight tremble in her hand when she reached up and touched her blue-veined temple caused pity to well up inside me.

"I still haven't talked to Detective Hudson about all this," I said. "Or Gabe." Below us in a cafe courtyard, a group of people laughed uproariously at something. I was tempted to walk away from JJ and this whole situation and join them. "Once I do, it's out of our hands. Your family's going to come under some tough scrutiny."

"I know, and it's all my fault. I guess I should have gone directly to my mother with that note." She turned and grasped the metal fence, staring down into the bubbling creek.

Except doing that and then destroying it would have dug both her and Bliss deeper into a possible murder coverup, not to mention add another brick to the wall of Brown family secrets. "Do you really think Bliss could have destroyed that note and remained a cop?" I asked softly. "The guilt would have driven her crazy. Frankly, I think you did her a favor by bringing it out in the open. You did something for her that she couldn't do for herself."

Her face softened in relief. "All I really want is the pressure to be off Bliss. Do you think talking to Gabe and this detective will do that?"

"I have no idea, but I also have no choice but to tell them what I know. Maybe you shouldn't be telling me any more if you think it might compromise your family. If you need a lawyer, my friend, Amanda-"

"We have tons of lawyers," she broke in, her voice sharp. "What I need is a friend, Benni. Someone who isn't just out to pin this killing on anyone they can find without regard to who it hurts. As crazy as they all are, they are my family, and I care about them."

"I'm doing the best I can," I said, fed up with the whole business. "I'm not a trained investigator."

She wrapped thin arms around herself in a self-comforting hug. "I'm sorry, Benni. I just don't know where to turn."

"I'll talk to Gabe and Detective Hudson, then get back with you."

"Do you have to tell that detective it's me, Bliss, and Susa who have seen this note? Can't you just say . . ." Her thin nose flared in agitation, like one of her grandmother's racehorses. "I don't know . . . say . . ." A sob escaped from deep in her chest.

"I have to tell him the truth. No matter how Bubba Joe Bob he looks, he's not a stupid man. He knows we have a relationship. He'd figure it out."

She glanced over at the wine booth where the other girl was pouring frantically. The girl gave her a pleading look. "I've got to get back to the booth." She turned abruptly away and headed back to the crowded booth.

Frustrated at being in a situation where I had no idea where to turn, I walked back over to the edge of the crowd to watch the dancers twirl and Cajun two-step to the band's hypnotic beat. I scanned the crowd for my husband, determined to pry him away from his ex-wife long enough to drop all I'd learned today in his very capable lap. His dark head wasn't visible to me even when I hopped up on a small concrete wall and peered over the bobbing heads.

"Senor Jose Friday, where are you?" I muttered, jumping down.

In the next moment, I felt a hand grab my elbow and a low, comically villainous voice whispered in my ear, "Lady, I got your number. Spill the beans before I lock you up."

I twisted around to look up into Detective Hudson's grinning face. Jerking my elbow from his hand, I said, "That dialogue is the most pathetic I've ever heard."

"Almost as bad as my taste in boots?"

I glanced down at his feet. They were clad tonight in a pair of dark brown plain leather ropers with one scuffed toe. "Those actually look like they might have worked a day or two."

"They've seen their share," he said. "Are you looking for the chief? I think I saw him over at the Sierra Robles wine booth. Had the mayor, a couple of city council members, and a very striking Hispanic woman with him."

I ignored his barb. "We need to talk. I've got some information about the Brown family you should know."

"Figured as much. After your talk with Chase, the mother, Susa, and the Girard girl with the crazy hair, I had an inkling we'd need a consultation."

"You'd probably get more accomplished on this case if you'd spend less time following me and more time working on your own leads."

"Didn't have to follow far, Ms. Ortiz. The bench underneath where you and Miss Girard stood has great acoustics. You know, when dealing with a family with this much prominence in the county, I'd be keepin' my voice a li'l bit quieter if'n I was you. That's a little piece of country-fried advice from Bubba Joe Bob himself." His exaggerated Texas drawl mocked me.

A slow blush crept up my neck. "So, I guess I don't need to tell you anything, then. Later." I started to edge my way around a group of people bouncing on the balls of their heels to the music.

"Not so fast," he said, grabbing for my elbow again. But I was quicker and used my small size to weave through the crowd, leaving him in the wake of swaying human bodies. I'd talk to him tomorrow and fill him in on everything he hadn't overheard, but for now I decided to let him stew in his own juices. This continual feint and jab ritual we'd established was beginning to wear on me. Right now, the one person I really wanted to talk to was Gabe.

I finally spotted him across the open-air dance floor, sipping a glass of pinkish wine and talking to the mayor and a deputy district attorney who was running for DA next month. Next to him, looking very comfortable and happy, was Lydia.

He's still your your husband, I told myself. I took a deep breath and started along the edge of the dancing crowd toward them. Before I could get very far, a hand grabbed mine, and in an instant I was out on the dance floor. husband, I told myself. I took a deep breath and started along the edge of the dancing crowd toward them. Before I could get very far, a hand grabbed mine, and in an instant I was out on the dance floor.

"Hey, ange," ange," D-Daddy said, twirling me to the raucous, firecracker beat of a souped-up version of Hank Williams's "Jambalaya." "You ready to shake a leg?" D-Daddy said, twirling me to the raucous, firecracker beat of a souped-up version of Hank Williams's "Jambalaya." "You ready to shake a leg?"

I laughed and fell in with his rhythm, letting him lead me into steps, twists, and twirls I didn't know were possible while the wild Cajun fiddler pushed the crowd faster and faster with his impossible-to-follow riffs. One song moved into another with only a few seconds for people to catch their breath and start again. Early in our third dance, after D-Daddy had twirled me around three, four, five times, I felt his hand leave mine and another, larger one take its place.

"Hey, Mrs. Ortiz," Detective Hudson said, smiling his Tom Sawyer smile. "Did I forget to tell you these were my dancing boots?"

"What?" I sputtered as he twirled me around three times and spun me around the crowded dance area. It took every bit of concentration I had to keep up with him. Somebody had taught this man how to dance. As we moved around the other couples, I glanced over the crowd, looking for Gabe, hoping with pure petty juvenile revenge that me dancing with another man would seriously annoy him. Naturally he was nowhere to be seen.

At the end of the song, breathing heavily, I jerked my hand out of Detective Hudson's and pushed my way through the milling people. He caught up and fell into step beside me.

"Man, haven't moved like that for months," he said, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. "It's like riding a bike, though. How about you? Did you enjoy it?"

"Where did . . .?"

"My mother owns a Cajun restaurant and dance hall in Beaumont, Texas," he said, winking at me. "That's where I was born and spent my delinquently formative years. Did I fail to mention I was half Cajun?"

Another exaggerated mother story. "Good-bye, Detective Hudson," I said, disgusted.

He continued walking beside me, not speaking again until we reached my truck two blocks away.

"What is in those notes you and the Girard girl were discussing?" His face was dead serious now.

"I'll call your office tomorrow and make an appointment," I said, opening my car door. "We can discuss it then."

He grabbed the door from my hand and slammed it closed. His swift and unexpected action caused me to jump.

"I don't think so," he said. Then added, "Ma'am."

I tightened my lips and told myself to breathe deeply. "Fine," I said and in a terse voice told him everything that had happened since JJ first came into my office this morning.

"Add that note with the conversation you accidentally accidentally overheard at the party, and it sounds an awful lot like blackmail," he said. overheard at the party, and it sounds an awful lot like blackmail," he said.

"So it appears," I replied, ignoring his gibe.

"Do you think Susa Girard knows what it is Giles Norton had on Cappy?"

"I have no idea."

"Looks like Officer Girard, Miss Girard, and their delightful mother and I need to chat again. And I'd like to take a look at that note and grave rubbing myself. What kind of flower did you say it was?"

"Lily of the valley." A cold breeze . . . or the thought of the grave rubbing . . . caused me to shiver. Goosebumps covered my bare arms. I slipped my hand in the back pocket of my jeans and touched the copies of the note and grave rubbing. I knew I should show them to him right now, but he'd irritated me so much, I decided to keep quiet. Let him get his own copies. "Maybe you should talk to Gabe before you talk to Bliss."

"I don't have to clear anything with Chief Ortiz. He's not my my boss." boss."

I frowned at him.

"Have you told him any of this?" he pressed.

"I'm on my way home to tell him now. We haven't crossed paths long enough to talk today. He's . . . we've both been busy."

He nodded, his eyes solemn. "Ex-wives have a way of taking up a man's time, that's for sure."

"Is there anything else, Detective Hudson?" I said coolly, not about to discuss Gabe or his ex-wife with him.

"Not right now, but I'll be in touch. You're doin' a bang-up job, Mrs. Ortiz."

"My last name is Harper," I snapped.

His thick eyebrows went up. "You don't say? You're one of them liberated women? Gotta maintain your own identity and all? I'm impressed."

"It's not because . . ." I started, then stopped, annoyed at myself for even bringing it up. "Oh, forget it." I started to climb in the truck, then turned and said, "When you talk to Bliss, please be careful. She's . . . well, she's not feeling too good and this . . ."

"Benni," he said softly. "I'm not going to browbeat a pregnant woman. Give this Texas bubba credit for having some class even if I do wear white-trash boots."

Again I felt my face go hot. It was disconcerting at times how well he read my mind.

He reached over and touched a finger to my cheek. I jerked back, surprised by the tiny jolt of electricity I felt. His knowing chuckle made me want to slap him. He mimed tipping his hat and said smoothly, "Thanks for the dance, darlin'. Most fun I've had since I landed here on the Central Coast."

I watched him walk away, my hand still itching to do something, like throw a rock at the back of his head or slap my own husband upside the head because his preoccupation with his ex-wife was putting me in this awkward position.

Gabe's Corvette was parked in front when I got home, but he wasn't inside the house. They were obviously still cruising around in Lydia's car. I took a quick shower and pulled on a cotton T-shirt and boxer-style shorts and was making myself a vanilla Coke when Lydia's Jag pulled up in front of our house. The clock above the stove read eight o'clock. Through the kitchen window I watched him get out of the driver's seat and walk across the yard, whistling softly.

"Hi," I said, sipping on my drink at the kitchen table. "Guess we missed each other tonight."

"Guess so. I was talking to Larry, that deputy district attorney who's running for DA and Lydia and he discovered they had some people in common. After tasting a couple of wines, we went over to the Thai restaurant for a quick bite. Lydia doesn't care for Cajun food."

"Oh." The ice in my drink cracked, sounding loud in the silence.

He pulled his dark green polo shirt over his head in one swift motion. "It's warm tonight, don't you think?"

"Anything new with Sam?"

He shook his head, throwing the shirt over a chair. "He's worried about Bliss, but other than that, we haven't really formulated a plan yet."

But you and Lydia are sure spending a lot of time discussing it, I wanted to say. Pride and pure-born Ramsey stubbornness kept me from saying it. I was determined not to appear the irrationally jealous second wife. I stirred the ice in my glass with my finger. "I talked to Detective Hudson tonight." I wanted to say. Pride and pure-born Ramsey stubbornness kept me from saying it. I was determined not to appear the irrationally jealous second wife. I stirred the ice in my glass with my finger. "I talked to Detective Hudson tonight."

"Again?" A flicker of suspicion came over his face, then was gone. "Well, I'm glad you're cooperating with him. This has to be a tough case to investigate. What did he want?"

Starting with the note JJ found in Bliss's suitcase, I went through everything I discovered today. "Detective Hudson said he's going to have to talk to all of them again."

Gabe nodded, sitting down at the table across from me. "Yes, I can see why." He ran a hand through his thick black hair. "I suspected Bliss knew more than she was telling."

"Gabe, this detective. What do you know about him?"

He leaned back in his chair, his face concerned. "Just another detective, sweetheart. He's new on the force, but apparently has good references from Texas. Why, is he causing you some problems?"

"No, not at all," I said a little too quickly.

His eyes searched my face, but he didn't press for more information. "Just be cooperative, Benni. And try to get Bliss's sister and mother to take their concerns directly to him. I don't like you being that involved."

"Whether we like it or not, we're involved with this up to our eyebrows. And for your information, every time JJ has come to me, I've not only told her to talk to Detective Hudson, but also that anything she tells me I'll have to tell you and the detective."

"Mi nina muy buena," he said, getting up. "Looks like I've finally got you paper-trained."

"Sexist pig." I took an ice cube and threw it at him. He gave a surprised grunt when it bounced off his bare chest.

Later that night, as he lay sleeping next to me, my wide-awake brain hummed like an agitated hive, and I mulled over the events of the day, especially the contents of the envelope Giles gave to Susa.

A grave rubbing of a lily of the valley.

I'll use it if I have to. Tell Cappy.

Was it a real tombstone somewhere? Unfortunately there were lots of cemeteries in San Celina County. It could take weeks to go through all of them looking for a specific tombstone. Narrow it down, that's what I needed to do.

As I drifted closer to sleep, the black crayon rubbing drew itself in my mind, and the refrain Find the tombstone Find the tombstone reverberated like an echo. Where was this tombstone? And whose was it? And the most pressing question of all: What about it would cause someone to kill Giles? reverberated like an echo. Where was this tombstone? And whose was it? And the most pressing question of all: What about it would cause someone to kill Giles?

10.

GABE AND I spent the next morning, Sunday, laying around reading the newspaper. No one called or came by, and for a little while I could forget everything that had happened in the last week-Sam's announcement, Lydia's presence, Giles's murder, Detective Hudson's uncomfortable attentions. About noon we met Emory downtown for brunch at a new Mexican restaurant that was getting rave reviews-El Cantina Gallo. Over seafood enchiladas the conversation turned to Elvia's work habits. As usual, she'd been too busy to join us.

"This is her day off, and she insists on going in for a few hours," Emory complained over his empty margarita glass.

"That's just her," I said, scooping up some guacamole with a fresh, hot tortilla chip. The reviews had been right. "If you're serious about her, you'd better get used to it."