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dead.”
    “Was there blood?”
    “Uh-uh. But her head was at a funny angle.” I grimaced. “Apparently someone broke her neck.”
    My aunt returned bearing a tray laden with coffee and leftover scones and muffins. “Have you eaten?”
    Declan shook his head. “Don’t worry about me.”
    “Well, here are some of Katie’s goodies.”
    He quirked an eyebrow at me, and suddenly my aunt’s offer sounded untoward. I blushed. He reached toward the plate. “Well, in that case.”
    The door opened yet again, and I cursed myself under my breath for not locking it after Declan’s arrival. Two policewomen entered, followed by Steve Dawes.
    My stomach was upset enough without the effect he seemed to have on it. I tried to ignore his sudden presence,but couldn’t quite. Still, when I did glance over at him he wasn’t paying attention to me at all.
    All his energy focused on Declan.
    And Declan returned the favor.
    The air between the two men vibrated with sudden, intense hostility. I could
see
the hatred distort the atmosphere.
    No, wait. That couldn’t be.
    “Mrs. Eagel?” one of the officers asked.
    Lucy stood.
    “And you’re, um”—the other woman consulted a notebook and looked up at me—“Ms. Lightfoot?”
    “Yes.” I rose, too, still distracted by the interplay of emotion between Declan and Steve.
    As soon as I moved, Declan scrambled to his feet and placed himself solidly between Steve and me. Not once did he look at the policewomen, only at the newspaper columnist. Any minute now, they’d bare their teeth and start snarling. Lucy’s eyes darted between them, but the police officers didn’t seem to notice.
    “You’re aware of the death that occurred outside earlier?” one asked.
    We all nodded.
    “We’re talking to everyone in the neighborhood and wanted to ask you a few questions. Were you present, sir?” the officer asked Declan.
    He tore his gaze from Steve and shook his head. “No.”
    Promptly ignoring him, she turned back to Lucy and me. “Perhaps over here?” She indicated the reading area.
    Lucy and I followed behind the uniforms like zombies.In the back of my mind I wondered whether we should talk to anyone at all without a lawyer. As we settled into the cushy furniture, both policewomen breathed sighs of relief and one absently slipped her foot out of her shoe and rubbed her heel.
    Behind us, the door of the bakery slammed. I looked back to see Declan’s shoulders slump as he flipped the lock. He looked over at me as Steve stormed past the window outside. I couldn’t read his expression.
    The policewomen seemed almost bored as they asked their rote questions—
tell us what happened, did you see anything or anyone suspicious, where were you when you learned of the death
. They each insisted on calling it “the death” rather than “the murder,” which was what we all knew it was. But I didn’t quibble. They hadn’t separated Lucy and me, and they didn’t seem to be aware that Ben was being questioned by their superior as we spoke.
    I didn’t enlighten them, either. Just the facts, ma’am.
    We’d cleaned up everything and put the extra food away well before Uncle Ben and Jaida returned to the Honeybee, a little before five o’clock. Declan had stuck around, flipping absently through books in the reading area as we tidied the kitchen, and then we’d joined him.
    The key turned in the lock, and Aunt Lucy rushed to her husband’s side when he came through the door. “Oh, thank heavens! Are you all right?”
    “Of course. Detective Quinn was just covering all his bases. No worries.” He wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her hair, but not before his eyesslid past mine. I could tell the situation was far more serious than he was letting on.
    Jaida shut the door behind her and threw the dead bolt. She nodded at Declan. “Thanks for coming.”
    “Glad you’re here,” he replied.
    “What happened at the police station?” I asked.
    Jaida placed her brown