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floppy straw numbers according to taste, they began the walk home.
    â€˜What do we think, then?’ asked Harry as they turned on to the beach road. ‘Was Alec Wilson murdered? And if so, was it because he was gay?’
    â€˜We don’t know enough about him,’ said Libby. ‘He’d obviously lived here a long time, because he was already here when this Sally Weston arrived, and that was – what did they say? –ten years ago? And although Justin knew him, he obviously wasn’t that close.’
    â€˜We need to meet the rest of the ex-pat community,’ said Libby, taking off her new hat and fanning her face with it. ‘How do we do that?’
    â€˜Libby!’ protested five voices in chorus.
    â€˜Oh, come on, you’re all as interested as I am. Poor bugger’s dead, with only the local cops to investigate, who have no knowledge of British procedures –’
    â€˜Or sensibilities,’ put in Fran.
    â€˜And somewhere in England – or elsewhere – there’s some poor woman who’s lost a son she’s only just found. I think we owe it to her, if not to Alec.’
    â€˜I think you’re over-justifying yourself, petal,’ said Harry.
    â€˜I agree, though, Hal,’ said Fran. ‘And no one we’ve met here so far seems to have any knowledge of his English roots or family. We’re the only ones.’
    â€˜And we didn’t even know him,’ said Peter.
    â€˜I know, I know,’ said Libby, ‘but we can talk to people who did, like Martha and Justin.’
    â€˜Who didn’t seem to know much about him,’ said Ben.
    â€˜But this Sally did,’ said Libby excitedly. ‘I bet she knows all about him. And if he had any enemies out here. I do hope Martha gets in touch with her soon.’
    Twenty minutes later they arrived back at the hotel and Libby threw herself on to a sunbed. Jimmy waved from the back of the restaurant.
    â€˜Message!’ he called.
    Libby sat up.
    Ben went over to Jimmy, then turned and gave Libby the thumbs up.
    â€˜That looks as if Martha got hold of Sally.’ Fran perched next to her friend.
    Ben came back and sat on the end of another sunbed. ‘Sally called Martha. Apparently she was a bit surprised, but she’s happy to talk to you and she’s given us her number.’
    â€˜Excellent.’ Libby beamed. ‘And now I’m going to have a swim.’
    It was later in the afternoon on her way back to her room that Libby asked Jimmy if she could borrow the phone to ring Sally Weston. There was no reply.
    â€˜You should have done it when Jimmy gave us the message,’ said Fran. ‘She’s obviously gone out again.’
    â€˜I’ll try again when we come down for dinner,’ said Libby. ‘She can’t always be out.’
    But there was still no reply when they gathered in the bar for a pre-prandial drink.
    â€˜She’s probably gone out to dinner now,’ said Harry.
    â€˜So frustrating not having a mobile number,’ said Libby.
    â€˜We managed to live without them for years,’ Ben reminded her.
    â€˜But we don’t now and we’ve got used to having them,’ said Libby. ‘We keep missing Sally because we can only use the phone when we come down here and ask Jimmy’s permission.’
    Just then Pink Hair and Bushy Moustache arrived in the bar.
    â€˜Hello!’ Pink Hair gave them a little wave. ‘Did you enjoy your lunch?’
    â€˜Very much,’ said Peter. ‘It’s a lovely place, isn’t it?’
    â€˜Beautiful. It must be nice to sit down there almost in the water,’ said Pink Hair wistfully.
    Peter turned to Bushy Moustache. ‘I’m sorry you couldn’t manage it down to the pontoon.’
    Bushy Moustache grunted.
    â€˜Did you enjoy the food, though?’ persisted Peter.
    â€˜Wasn’t really anything there I liked.’ Bushy Moustache waved at