‘Don’t be silly,’ Verna trilled, sounding just like Dee in her mating-owl mode. ‘You go right on up. I had Mel take your bag up to 3B. It’s the Lighthorse Suite, Mr James. We call it that because Lighthorse Harry Lee himself came through town on his way to the Revolution and left behind a boot. See the planter on the porch? It’s an exact replica.’

Verna pointed to the boot, now sporting pink begonias, but Dee was fixated on her good luck. The Lighthorse Suite was situated no more than ten feet from where she sat. She felt like a good smile herself. The window was open. Could be a good chance to see what secrets Danny James might reveal.

Danny was trying to go inside, but Verna was still talking. ‘You sure you don’t want to give me just a little hint about what the girls’ story is?’ Verna asked, snagging Dee’s attention. ‘I know it can’t be bad. They’re such good girls. Why, they can’t even seem to shoo all those bunnies out of their yard, and them with that big garden and all. Soft hearts, you know. But you were saying…’

Don’t blow our cover, Dee silently begged. Not yet. Stupid to worry. Their cover was already blown. There wasn’t a person in town who wouldn’t find a reason to ask just what that handsome stranger had been doing at the O’Brien house at eight in the morning.

‘Oh, it’s no mystery,’ Danny James assured the little woman. ‘I’m just researching some history for a book, and I was hoping they might be able to help me.’

Verna patted him on the arm as if he were a gentleman caller. ‘Well, how fascinating. Maybe you’d like a cup of tea while you tell me all about it.’

And, of course, he smiled and offered her his arm. ‘What a lovely offer, Mrs Washington.’

Excellent. Verna would keep him talking for hours, while Dee searched his room. She quickly scanned her target. Verna had decorated the inn in Early Ruffle, all lace and chintz and vacant-eyed china dolls ranged on high shelves. Danny James was going to look like a panther at a tea party tucked under Verna’s pink sheets. His luggage sat by the door, just waiting to be searched: a backpack and a wheeled softsider, both unopened; a briefcase that sat tantalizingly open on the wedding ring quilt.