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a log and focused on the ocean, watching the waves break over the sand. Some of my tension eased away as I took in deep breaths of fresh, salty air. Bit by bit, my shoulders relaxed and I found it easier to breathe. After a time, I pulled out my cellphone and put a call through to my mom.
    “Hi, honey,” my mom’s voice greeted after three rings. She sounded so cheery, so normal. “I’m glad you called. How are you?”
    My breath hitched in my throat and the ache in my chest intensified. The relaxation I’d achieved moments earlier had disappeared in an instant, and I had to take a second or two to compose myself. In that short time, my mom clued in that something was wrong.
    “Oh, sweetheart. What is it? What happened?”
    “It’s Cousin Jimmy,” I said, pulling myself together. “He’s dead.”
    Maybe I should have delivered the news differently, less bluntly, but those were the only words I could come up with.
    “Dead?” my mom echoed. A second of stunned silence came over the line. “I can’t believe it. I thought he was getting better.”
    “He was. But he didn’t die of pneumonia.” I told her about finding Jimmy’s body on the rocks of Myler’s Point.
    “Oh, hon’. That’s terrible.”
    “It gets worse,” I said.
    I related what Georgeson had told me about his suspicion that Jimmy had been murdered.
    When my mom had recovered from the initial shock of that news, she asked, “Do you want me to come out there?”
    “What about Grant and his family?”
    “I’m sure they’d understand if I left a few days early.”
    I was tempted to agree to that plan, but I really didn’t want to ruin her trip.
    “No, you don’t need to do that,” I assured her. “You enjoy your time in Boston and I’ll look after things here.” I wasn’t entirely sure what looking after things meant, but I’d have to figure it out.
    “But are you safe there? If Jimmy was murdered…”
    She left the sentence hanging, but I finished it in my own mind.
    If Jimmy was murdered, his killer could still be around.
    I swallowed back a lump of fear and forced myself to sound unconcerned. “Of course I’m safe, and I’ll be extra careful until the murderer is caught. Really, Mom, it’ll be fine.” Before she had a chance to voice any more fears, I tried to distract her with a question. “Did Jimmy have any enemies that you know of?”
    “Of course not,” she replied. “Everybody loved Jimmy. Although…”
    I pounced on her hesitation. “Although what?”
    “He had a problem with one of his employees a few years back, but I don’t know the details. And anyway, that was ages ago.”
    “Which employee?” I asked, desperate for more information.
    “I don’t know. Like I said, it was years ago. It probably has nothing to do with his death.”
    Maybe that was true, but maybe it wasn’t. If an old grievance had resurfaced…
    I shook my head. I couldn’t bring myself to believe that Leigh or Ivan had harmed Jimmy. Even if the problematic situation had involved someone who no longer worked at the pancake house, it seemed unlikely that something that transpired years earlier would have led to Jimmy’s murder.
    My mom’s voice brought me back to our conversation. “We’re going out for dinner with Grant’s daughter in a few minutes, so I’d better run, but stay in touch, okay? And if you change your mind and need me there, just say the word and I’ll make the arrangements.”
    I assured her once more that I’d be fine and asked her for the name of Jimmy’s lawyer, which I recognized as the name of Lisa’s employer. We exchanged a few more words and hung up. For a minute or two, I simply sat there, at a loss. What was I supposed to do next? I couldn’t seem to grasp a clear thought.
    Briefly, I considered calling my friend Cassidy in Seattle. Although we’d exchanged a few text messages over the past week or so, I hadn’t actually spoken with her since the day before I’d left the city, and a sense of