Free Death Dines Out by Claudia Bishop

be wanting to crawl under the table.

Ernst rolled toward their table like a golf ball on a difficult lie - erratically, but with a purposeful forward movement. He stopped, shook hands with several people, patted the backs of others, restarted, and stopped again. He arrived, finally, and bent over Bea, his arm around her neck. He gave her a friendly shake. "Bea, you look younger every time I see you. Birdie, I like the new hairstyle."

Bea beamed. "Ernst, I'd like you to meet our young friend here, Sarah Quilliam. Quill? This is Ernst. Ernst Kolsacker. We've just been talking about you, Ernst. Sit down."

He sat. Up close, he appeared to be in his early sixties, with a broad nose, fleshy cheeks, and the omnipresent Florida tan. He was wearing a short-sleeved polo shirt. His hands and forearms were strong and muscular. A dedicated golfer, then; Quill had seen those same over-developed muscles in Tiffany Taylor.

"How do you do?" Quill asked politely.

"Not all that well," he admitted. "Sorry about that scene up front."

Bea nodded decisively. "That's what we wanted to talk with you about, Ernst. When is this ridiculous feud going to end?"

"You want my candid opinion?" He rocked back in his chair with a grin. "When one or both of them is dead."

-5-

Quill turned over on her back, swam a few strokes, and floated, looking up at the sky. The Combers Beach Club pool was surrounded by a waist-high stone wall painted white. Palm trees fingered the sky. The air was soft. The sun was behind Quill, settling into the mansions of Palm Beach. She flipped over and watched the fading light through her eyelashes: The colors ranged through all the oranges and yellows, with a bit of mauve where the sky drifted into blue. The light fanned out like the tail of an orange peacock.

"Want to paint it?" Meg sat down and dangled her legs in the water, palms braced against the lip of the pool. The edging tile was Florida-teal and -pink.

"There you are. I can't believe you took a cab back here."

"I told you I wasn't going to ride with you again, and I meant it. I like subways. I like trains. I like airplanes. I hate traffic. And the way you drive in traffic turns my blood to ice."

Quill was feeling too relaxed to rise to this bait. "It's because you're too impatient." She kicked out gently in the water.

"No sisterly advice today, please." Meg dived into the water, surfaced with a gleeful shout, and began to swim laps.

Quill held her breath, went under, and swam through the body-temperature water. The shimmering blue on top was deceptive; underneath, the water was blue-gray and faintly turgid. She exhaled and swam to the top. Meg reached the end of the pool, turned, and stroked back. She stopped in front of Quill and slicked back her hair with both hands. "You have to admit this place is beautiful. You should be doing some sketching."

"Nope. I don't want to paint it. It doesn't feel real.

It's like a set for a movie, or an animated postcard. I can't take it all in."

"Do you want to take a walk on the beach? It's hard to make the beach trivial if that's what your objection is."

"Maybe later. Right now, I want to get some food."

Meg looked faintly surprised. "I'm hungry. I forgot to eat today."

"It was because of the rabbit."

"That poor rabbit. No, it wasn't the rabbit. That good old rabbit and its brothers are going to be the most delicious meal you've ever eaten in your life. That rabbit's going to get us the third star." She treaded water with a smile.

"You mean the banquet's still on?"

"Of course the banquet's still on. Why shouldn't it be?"

"You haven't heard? See, this is what happens when you disappear on me and take a cab. The price of cowardice. Verger Taylor's bought the building. Which means everything's off. I was going to call Myles and tell him we'd be coming home."

Meg turned pink, then pale. She began to sink. Quill grabbed her arm and pulled her to the side of the pool. "Meg? You okay?"

"The third star," said Meg. "This