"I think the phone signals are purposely jammed. Our Mr. Forrester likes his security."

"Good thing you did your research before we came." Jeff rested his head on the edge of the whirlpool and let his legs float. I could really get used to this you know."

"Couldn't we all. Problem is, what it took for him to reach this point. Malcolm has a lifetime of criminal activity behind him and the money you see so lavishly spent all around us is black money, made through some of the worst crimes. Drugs. Prostitution. Porn. Trafficking."

"And some we know of, committed by crooked cops."

"That's one of the worst."

Jeff sat up and squatted on his haunches in the water, swinging his arms in a circle, balancing.

"If you believed that, Jess, we wouldn't have kept the emeralds."

"Proceeds of crime, Jeff. Perfectly acceptable."

"Except not personally."

"You want to give them back?"

"Nope." He laughed and flicked water at her. "Nope, I actually figure we earned them in a very hard way."

"Certainly harder than I might have imagined," she agreed. I shudder sometimes when I think of Zee being right there at the beach with us. We got very lucky that day, Jeff."

"Not so Zee."

"No . . . she didn't, did she."

****

Verna moved her lounge a little more into the shade and stretched out again. Hart sat at the patio table trying to get his phone to work.

"Any luck?"

"Nah, I think the signal's being jammed."

"On purpose you mean?"

He stared at the lithe figure on the lounge and formed a grim smile. Verna was in his life big time, and he felt he had to be everything she might need. Exposing her to gangsters and killers as he had, made him re-think some priorities. Thai Bites dropped a peg.

"Yes, on purpose, Verna."

"Are you worried?"

"Nope. Not yet any way. I think dinner will explain a lot of things."

"The others seem like a nice bunch, don't you think?"

"Yeah, I guess. Strange mix. That's a puzzler still."

"Well, like you said, maybe dinner will clear a lot up."

Hart stood and moved an umbrella closer to her lounge. "Don't want you burning, Vern." She looked up and smiled.

"I'm going to take a spin around the property. You okay?"

She nodded. "Don't you get burned."

It was hot walking in the sun, but he managed to stay close to shade from the many trees dotting the grounds. Immaculate landscaping everywhere he looked, and he had difficulty believing it wasn't fake. A large house set back in a small grove, surprised him, and he quickly slipped around behind a tailored bush at the sound of muffled voices.

Hart couldn't make out the words, but it sounded like at least three men, and the talk sounded serious rather than casual banter. He tried edging closer then suddenly the voices grew louder and he carefully moved away, circling back toward the guest villas, where he came across Jeff, dozing in a random shaped whirlpool.

"Looks relaxing."

Jeff's eyes opened and he squinted up at Hart. "It is. Very." He levered himself up, stood, then climbed out of the pool and grabbed his towel. "Something I can help you with?"

"Not really. I was just out exploring and came across another house on the grounds." He jerked his head back in the direction he'd come. "Seems there are other people staying there."

Jeff looked but of course saw nothing. "Help? This place must take a lot of work."

"Could be. Just my PI nose twitching."

"Job never turns off, eh? I know the feeling."

"I thought you were retired."

"I am but Jess isn't." He grinned, and Hart felt a good vibe from him.

"What did you do?"

"One of too many middle managers, accountant actually, in a large manufacturing company. Custom cabinets."

"Hence the early retirement?"

Jeff contracted his lips and shrugged. "That's quite a scar you've got there on your arm. Looks new."

Hart held his arm up and looked at it. "Yeah . . . went through a window."

"Ouch!"

"Sorry if I interrupted your bath there."

"It's alright. I think any longer and I would have shrivelled up anyway. Guess I'll see you at dinner."

"Yeah, okay. Take it easy." Hart ambled off thinking Jeff was very perceptive for a retired guy dozy from a whirlpool in the sun.

****

The couples all arrived promptly for dinner and lingered in the stunning foyer, studying the wealth apparent everywhere. A tall, liveried butler appeared from an archway and beckoned them all through to another dazzling room, where a twenty foot dining table was set for dinner.

"What a gorgeous service," Deborah cooed, as Gordon seated her by a silver, name place tag. He leaned down and whispered. "I know you're dying to, but don't turn the plate over."

With a light squeeze of her shoulder he moved on to his own seat next to Jessica.

"It really is – my God I can see my reflection in the silverware." Verna exclaimed.

There was a distinct ping, and Hart smiled. "Waterford crystal. My mom owned a glass once."

"Has anyone noticed that there isn't a place set for our host?" Gretta asked as all heads swivelled about in puzzlement.

"I thought this would be when we met him."

"You're right," Billy agreed. "This whole setup smells fishy."

"We were invited for dinner, dinner will be served, and we'll ask the staff when they come in." Jessica said.

"Who's going to speak, we can't all start badgering them."

"Let Jessica continue, she's got the right idea." Gretta opened a serviette and placed it on her lap and the rest followed suit.

"Anyone else getting a Ten Little Indian feeling about this?" Parker said into the sudden silence.

A moment later the first course appeared.

The same butler who first met them came to the end of the table, performed a polite cough and proceeded to speak. "Anticipating your curiosity, Mr. Forrester has asked me to tell you he doesn't dine with guests, but will join you all in the library for cordials following dinner. And now I bid you all bon appétit."

"So much for asking questions," Arny remarked.

"All the more for after dinner, lover."

A variety of expressions considered Arny, and he ducked behind a gulp from his Waterford crystal glass.

A trio of ladies in chef coats and hats surrounded the table, and as one, described the course they delivered: clear glass plates of shrimp cooked in coarse salt with a creamy sauce of simmered toasted pine nuts, lemon zest and chicken stock.

"This is heavenly. Oh my God, do you think we could get the recipe, Gordon?"

"I don't think we have enough money for this recipe."

"What do you say, Vern, think Harry should put this on his menu at the diner?" Her eyes, those magnificent eyes, drilled a hole in his face across the table, and he had the courtesy to blush.

"I don't think any of us could afford this meal if this starter is an indication." Arny stated, crunching down on a shrimp, with eye-closed bliss.

"I know I couldn't," Parker added. "I'm so poor I can't even pay attention."

Good-natured groans went around the table. Desdemona just shook her head.

The meal continued through five more courses, each more astounding than the previous and at the end the butler returned, suggesting they just stay and relax until the staff cleared the table, then he would return and lead them to the library.

"My God, if the whole week is like this we're each going to need our own plane to get home." Deborah sagged back in her chair whooshing a brief breath.

"You could politely refuse, Deb."

"Are you crazy! This is once in a lifetime eating, Gordon."

"You'll have lots to take home."

"Parker . . . not another word." Desdemona looked apologetic.

"Don't sweat it, Des." Gretta patted her hand in front of Arny. "It's why we all love them, right, ladies?"

The men remained silent . . . listening.