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could’ve easily had him shot. And she couldn’t have been playing here all day. The tennis staff waters the courts between twelve and two. Standard procedure for every clay court. Maybe she went to lunch? Or maybe she paid some trailer park transient to pop her husband.
    “Your eyes are spinning like pinwheels. Don’t get any ideas about my case,” Ransom said.
    I put up both my hands. “No ideas. Simply enjoying the sunshine.”
    “Mrs. Goodsen seemed friendly enough, but I think Alicia hates you.”
    “Alicia?” The two women disappeared behind the courts and I plopped onto a bench. Fresh jasmine wafted over from the tree line and I breathed in the sweet soothing scent. “Yes, well, we had a mild disagreement a few years ago and she never got over it.”
    Ransom joined me on the bench. “This I need to hear.”
    “Alicia Birnbaum was elected Chair of the Haverhill Ladies Association the same year, the same month, I was promoted to Director of the Ballantyne. We’d known each other for a while, no surprise with the island being so small. And I may have accidentally dated the same guy she was dating at one point. Accidentally,” I repeated. “Not a competition.”
    Ransom sat back and crossed his legs. His eyes crinkled with merriment as if watching a particularly juicy episode of Jerry Springer.
    “Anyway, the Ballantyne board decided to host an Irish Spring beer tasting fundraiser the weekend before St. Patrick’s Day. You know Savannah boasts the second largest St. Paddy’s Day parade in the nation?”
    He nodded. “Go on.”
    I sighed. “Apparently, Alicia’s association was also planning a similar event. Same idea, same weekend. Of course, I contacted her to let her know of the conflict. It’s tough to host two events on the same weekend, there are only so many fundraising dollars to go around, not to mention the same exact theme.
    “But she didn’t budge. Said I was welcome to postpone my own event in light of their already large guest list. But Mr. Ballantyne loved the idea, and a pre-St. Patrick’s Day Saturday night party pretty much narrows down the date to one night. So we carried on. Twenty micro-breweries and hobbyists set up tasting tables. Carla corralled ten local chefs into a corned-beef and cabbage cook-off. Two hundred guests and many tens of thousands of dollars later, Alicia’s party cancelled.”
    “Sounds hardly memorable by your standards.”
    “I’m not finished. Alicia turned up in the Big House backyard Zen garden, half-naked and making out with my date. Raising holy hell and uninvited. We may frown on the half-naked part, but crashing is totally unacceptable.”
    “Did you throw her out?”
    “God no. Vivi Ballantyne would be mortified if we threw someone out. Yet we can’t allow crashers or every party would be overrun. It’s a delicate balance. That’s where I really shine.”
    He raised his brow. “Ah yes, I’ve witnessed your delicate touch. Like a bomb squad sergeant with a pair of tweezers and a flashlight. Let’s see, there was the food fight, the swimming pool incident, the handbag melee, the sidewalk tantrum…”
    “Relax. Do you want to hear this or not?”
    He grinned a big shiteater and patted me on the back. “Please.”
    “Forget it,” I said and stood. “I can see my talents are unappreciated. You’d be smart to remember your underestimations of me haven’t turned out so well for you in the past.”
    I stalked down the path toward the clubhouse and his shiny sports machine. I may have acted miffed, but I was relieved not to have to finish my story. It ended with a bucket of green beer thrown at my head and a green cupcake jammed down my blouse.
    I planned on keeping a very close eye on Alicia Birnbaum.

FIVE

    (Day #1: Friday Evening)

    I longed to go home and tuck in for the three day weekend, but I still needed to pay Tug for my earlier lunch. If he happened to mention details from the shooting, well, I couldn’t stop him. I wasn’t