Absolutely, Positively

very straightforward. Nothing of a suspicious nature. The Ford was totaled, though. That kind of thing can happen to a car when it goes straight over a sheer cliff.”

    “Can you arrange for me to get a look at it?”

    “I don't see why not.” Fergus paused to make some notes. “I'll contact the owner of the wrecking yard this morning and set it up.”

    “Thanks, Fergus. Call me as soon as you've cleared it. I'll fly down to Portland and rent a car to drive to the coast.”

    “Right.”

    Harry replaced the receiver and looked at Molly. “He's going to arrange for me to examine the Ford.”

    “What do you think you'll be able to tell by looking at it?”

    “I don't know.” Harry watched Molly rinse the raspberries. “Maybe nothing.”

    She gave him a knowing look. “Or maybe something?”

    “Rice says the authorities have already completed their investigation, but since they had no reason to suspect that Kendall was killed, they could have overlooked something.”

    “Such as?”

    “I don't know. Sabotaged brakes. Evidence of an encounter with another car.”

    Molly nibbled thoughtfully on her lower lip. “You think maybe someone sideswiped Kendall?”

    “The idea has a familiar ring to it, doesn't it?” The lobby intercom buzzed, breaking into Harry's chain of thought. “Who the hell could that be at this hour?”

    “I'll give you two guesses.” Molly gently piled the fragile raspberries into a bowl.

    “Two guesses?”

    “It's either a Stratton or a Trevelyan. Take your pick.”

    Harry raised his brows as he depressed the intercom button. “Yes?”

    “Mr. Trevelyan, this is George downstairs in the lobby. There is a Mr. Hughes here to see you.”

    Harry groaned. “At this hour?”

    “Yes, sir.”

    “Tell him this is important,” Brandon said in the background. There was a hard, determined edge to his voice. “Tell him it's a family matter.”

    “Send him up, George,” Harry said. He released the intercom button.

    “Want me to get lost?” Molly asked.

    “No.” Harry thought about his conversation with Olivia the previous evening. “Stay right where you are.”

    A few minutes later the front doorbell chimed discreetly. Harry reluctantly went to answer it. He was not feeling enthusiastic about the prospect of dealing with any of his relatives this morning. He had other things on his mind.

    He opened the door. Brandon, dressed in a lightweight sweater and slacks, stood glowering in the hall.

    “Good morning,” Harry said mildly.

    Brandon strode into the hall without a greeting. His expression was thunderous.

    “Want a cup of coffee?” Harry asked as he closed the door.

    Brandon ignored the polite inquiry. He swung around to confront Harry. “Olivia came here to see you last night.”

    “Yes.”

    “Damn it, I told her I didn't want her getting involved in this. I told my mother the same thing. Why the hell won't they stay out of it?”

    “Probably because they're worried about you.”

    “I don't need anyone worrying about me. I can handle this thing just fine all by myself.” Brandon stalked into the front room. He came to an abrupt halt when he saw Molly behind the kitchen counter. “Who are you? A new housekeeper?”

    “No,” Molly said. “I'm Harry's fiancée.”

    “His fiancée?” Brandon stared at her. “Olivia said something about Harry getting engaged to the trustee of the Abberwick Foundation. I didn't believe it.”

    “This is Molly Abberwick,” Harry said, annoyed by the expression of amazement on Brandon's face. “Molly, this is my cousin Brandon Hughes. Aunt Danielle's son. Olivia's husband.”

    Molly nodded. “How do you do, Brandon? We're just about to eat. Have you had breakfast?”

    “Yes. Thanks.” Brandon's eyes narrowed. He glanced speculatively at Harry. “So this engagement is for real?”

    “It's real, all right.” Harry took his seat at the counter.

    “Sort of sudden, isn't it?” Brandon asked.

    “Time is relative.” Molly gave Brandon a smile that was sweeter than the sugar she was spooning lightly over the berries. “Harry and I feel we know each other well enough to commit to marriage. Don't we, Harry?”

    “Yes,” Harry said. “Why don't you sit down, Brandon?”

    “I'd rather talk to you in your study.”

    “Too bad. I'd rather eat breakfast.” Harry glanced at the bowl of raspberries Molly had set in front of him. “Give me those muffins and the knife.”

    Wordlessly, Molly