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million-dollar PR business by not knowing her stuff. In her best public relations manner, she shrugged indifferently. “At my husband’s request, I believe I did have someone assigned to help out. The firm often does that for worthy causes.”
    Before Molly could even formulate another question, Patrice linked her arm through Helen’s. “Darlings, I believe I see George and Clark going into the courtyard. Surely Hernando cannot be far away. Shall we go see what they’ve learned?”
    The three brushed past Molly in a whisper of chiffon without so much as a farewell. She could understand their rush. What puzzled her more was why none of the three had asked a single question about her discovery of the body, a fact that had surely made the rounds by now. Unless, of course, one or all of them knew everything there was to know about exactly how Tessa Lafferty had ended up in Biscayne Bay and didn’t much care about Molly’s own role in tonight’s sad events.
    Molly walked outside where it was quieter. She was still toying with the concept of one of the three being a murderer, bringing her list of suspects up to a more respectable five, when Liza found her. She looked absolutely spent, as if every ounce of her normal vivaciousness had drained away.
    “This could very well be the worst night of my life,” she announced wearily, rather than with her more typical dramatic flourish. Without regard for propriety, she hiked her narrow skirt up well above her knees to permit more freedom of movement and paced in an agitated circle.
    “Liza, you’ll have to pay extra to replace the lawn, if you keep that up,” Molly said finally, regarding her friend closely for some hint that it was guilt, not simply distress, that had her in such a state.
    Liza gave her a rueful smile, stopped in place, and allowed her skirt to slither back down over slender hips to where it belonged. She ran her fingers through her cropped hair, currently darkened to a shade of auburn that wouldn’t clash with her dress. The gesture left the modified flattop in erratic spikes. “How could this happen, tonight of all nights?” she demanded, as if she expected Molly to have an answer.
    “If a woman’s going to be murdered, it might as well be someplace with a whole houseful of suspects,” Molly retorted.
    Liza glared at her. “Are you implying that this was premeditated?” she said sharply.
    “I’m not implying anything,” Molly soothed, her concern growing over Liza’s oddly defensive behavior and that unexplained absence. “I’m just saying that there are five hundred people here, any one of whom had the opportunity to kill Tessa. It sure as hell beats shooting her in her own living room with that private security guard you told me they have on duty standing at the front gate. Why did Roger hire that guard anyway? You’d think the Dobermans would be message enough for any burglar contemplating a break-in.”
    “The neighborhood’s changing.”
    “Are we talking about Coral Gables, that bastion of the rich?”
    “There are old-money rich and then there are the other kind,” Liza pointed out. The tension in her voice seemed to be easing, as if she felt she were on safer turf. “Tessa was convinced that half the houses in their neighborhood belong to big-time drug dealers now. Roger wanted to make sure some disgruntled druggie didn’t come barging into their house by mistake.”
    “Are you sure there hadn’t been threats against him or Tessa?”
    Liza looked startled by the implication. “I’m not sure of it, no,” she said slowly. “But why would either of them be in any kind of danger?”
    “Obviously one of them was.”
    “Unless Tessa’s death was an accident,” Liza said hopefully. “Maybe she stumbled, hit her head, fell into the bay, and drowned. You know how high her heels were. I’m surprised she didn’t fall flat on her face every time she tried to take a step on this grass.”
    “She was found in the water next to