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cottage, the cat glanced over her shoulder from time to time, as if to make sure she was still there. When they reached the end of the driveway, she ran up it and around the side of the house. Molly found her standing by the back door.
    “Yow!”
    Molly knocked and waited. When no one answered, she turned the door handle. The door opened easily and Gingersnap pushed through and ran inside. Molly poked her head into the kitchen. It was neat and clean, but the green linoleum floor and pink appliances were dated.
    “Hello? Is anyone home?” she called out, but there was no reply.
    Feeling like an intruder, Molly hesitated to go in any further. She was about to leave the cat in the house when she heard Gingersnap yowl—a deep, frightening cry that sent a shiver down her spine. Molly knew she couldn’t leave without checking on her.
    “This better not be a wild-goose chase,” she muttered. If Tiffany had gone out for milk and suddenly came home, how was she going to explain being in her house? “The cat made me do it” didn’t seem like a good excuse.
    But it wasn’t a wild-goose chase. She found Gingersnap standing in the dining room doorway. The chandelier was lit. The table had a plate on it with a half-eaten sandwich and a mug that said Hairstylist by Day, Diva by Night . It took Molly’s brain a brief moment to register that a chair had toppled over on the floor, and Tiffany was lying beside it. She ran over and knelt beside her, lifting her hand, checking for a pulse. Tiffany’s eyes were wide open, but she stared sightlessly, and Molly knew she was dead. She looked at Gingersnap, who was still in the doorway, her tail tucked between her legs, her eyes half closed.
    “I’m sorry, baby, she’s gone,” Molly said quietly.
    She sat back on her heels, her mind reeling. How was this possible? Tiffany was too young to die suddenly. Looking around the room, she didn’t see any signs of a struggle, and Tiffany didn’t appear to have any marks or bruises. She got up and looked at the mug and plate. She’d been drinking tea and eating a fish filet sandwich with lettuce and tomato, and for some reason she’d toppled off her chair and died.
    Molly took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Her legs were trembling, but she knew she had to stay calm and keep a straight head. She had to call the police. Realizing she’d left her cell phone at Tessa’s, she went back to the kitchen, where she’d seen a vintage yellow rotary phone on the wall, but when she lifted the receiver, there was no dial tone. It was all for show. Back in the hall, she found Tiffany’s Gucci bag on a table by the door, her cell phone inside.
    Molly stared at the screen. What was the emergency number to dial in England? She knew it wasn’t 911 because she’d read about it in the guidebook before they’d left home, but her mind was a blank.
    Gingersnap yelled, “Yow, yow, yow!”
    “That’s it!” Molly said, and dialed 999.

Chapter 4
     
    As soon as Molly opened the door to let in the two emergency responders, Gingersnap shot past her like a bullet, running across the lawn before Molly could even call her name. She felt helpless as she watched the cat disappear into the woods. A few minutes after the ambulance crew arrived, a police car pulled up the driveway and a uniformed officer introduced himself as Constable Markesan. Molly told him where he could find the ambulance crew. She had no intention of going inside the house to watch what they were doing.
    There was a little raggedy garden with an iron bench near the front door. The seat was still damp from the rain, but Molly had a wad of tissues in her pocket and dried it off. When Constable Markesan reappeared, he said bluntly, “The young lady is dead. If you don’t mind, I need to get some information.”
    “Of course,” Molly said.
    She answered all of his questions, from her name to how she’d ended up at the cottage and found Tiffany. Constable Markesan wrote everything down in