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purple that painted what little sky she could see through the tree branches out back.
    Had it really been six months since she’d sold Woodmore Estates and moved here? It hadn’t been an easy decision. But the huge old house and manicured grounds demanded constant attention, and just keeping good help was becoming too much for her.
    But how she missed the magnificent magnolia trees that lined either side of the circle drive … the sweeping lawns dotted with weeping willows, dogwoods, crape myrtles, and hardwoods … the white gazebo where she stopped to rest and think and pray after strolling through the rose garden.
    She smiled and looked across the quarter acre of backyard shaded by a mature live oak and two magnolia trees. All she needed these days was Noah to fertilize and mow and take care of her flower beds—and for the automatic sprinklers to supply whatever water Mother Nature didn’t. Her heart was her gazebo. It didn’t take the beauty of Woodmore Estates to remind her that almighty God was on His throne, and His glory could be found in all of nature.
    She heard a knock, and Isabel came into the kitchen, wearing the pink terry bathrobe Adele had bought her for her birthday. “Am I disturbing you?”
    “Not at all. Come have a cup of coffee—and use the good china. It’s a shame for it to just sit there looking lovely. It was meant to be used.”
    “Would you like a warmer?”
    “Not just yet, thanks.”
    Isabel opened the glass door and took out a delicate Wedgwood cup and saucer—Florentine Turquoise pattern. She filled the cup with coffee, then sat at the table, her long, dark wavy hair framing her pretty face and puppy eyes. Why did she look so glum?
    “What’s wrong, hon?”
    “The morning news was depressing. Did you hear there’s been another murder?”
    “Goodness, no. Who now?”
    Isabel held tightly to her coffee cup. “Peter Gautier, the CEO of the sugar refinery. I went to high school with his daughter.”
    Adele sighed and shook her head. “Do the authorities think it was the same killer?”
    “Sure looks that way. He was drowned in the bathtub, like Darveau. And the number two was spray painted on the tile behind the tub. Everybody’s freaking out that there could be more victims. They’re calling him ‘the Bathtub Killer.’”
    “Heaven help us.”
    “Mr. Gautier gave me a ride home from a football game once. He was really nice. I know people are upset that he’s laid off so many workers, but that’s happening everywhere. My dad says the economy’s causing it. I can’t believe somebody murdered him for doing what CEOs everywhere are doing.”
    Adele nodded. “It’s a terrible thing. But it’s complicated. And emotions run deep. Many families were hurt in the layoffs, and I understand that many lost their homes.”
    “Well, Renee just lost her dad. I think that’s pretty horrible.”
    Adele put her hand on Isabel’s. “Yes, it is. Did you know Renee well?”
    “In high school. She went away to a girls’ college in Rhode Island and married some guy she met on a ski trip. I think she lives in Providence and has a couple kids now. I haven’t seen her in years.”
    “Did you hear whether authorities have any suspects?”
    “I don’t know. But they think the 911 call was from the killer. Maybe they can trace it.”
    Adele took a sip of lukewarm coffee. “I spent the biggest part of my life on a hundred-acre estate in the country and was virtually sheltered from all this. It was a different world.”
    “I grew up here in Les Barbes. We never had problems like this until three years ago when Remy Jarvis was lynched by that nutcase who came looking for Zoe.”
    Adele looked at her hands, remembering.
    “Didn’t you tell me Zoe worked for you once?”
    Adele nodded. “She was a live-in member of my household staff at Woodmore many years ago.”
    “How did she go from working for you to owning Zoe B’s?”
    “It’s a long story, hon. It’s