Island Blues by Wendy Howell Mills

and her friend were out on kayaks at the approximate time Gilbert died. Was there some reason why they would
want
to kill him, though?
    â€œI hear you’ve been involved in the break-ins in town.” Sam looked up at her, squinting a bit in the dazzle of the setting sun.
    â€œPlease?”
    â€œThe. Break-ins. In. Town.” Sam enunciated the words slowly and clearly for her. He looked as if he considered doing sign language to be on the safe side.
    â€œI heard you the first time! I was just wondering if you were trying to accuse me of breaking into houses. That’s what it sounded like.”
    â€œMe thinks she protests too much! Did you?”
    â€œNo! Of course not. Why would you say such a thing?”
    â€œI didn’t. When he left, the sergeant said he had to go follow up on some things from the break-ins, and mentioned something to the effect that you probably wouldn’t be too far behind him there either.”
    â€œI see.” Sabrina was pleased that Sergeant Jimmy recognized what a good job she was doing.
    â€œHe muttered something else too, but I couldn’t catch most of what he said. Something about ‘license to be nosy’ and ‘as if she needed any encouragement.’”
    â€œOh.” Her bubble burst.
    â€œSo?”
    â€œSo what?” Sabrina was aware her voice was verging on nasty, but at the moment she couldn’t care less.
    â€œSo, what do you know about the break-ins? Have you zeroed in on your villain, just waiting for the right moment to bring him down? Perhaps you plan to call together all your suspects and elegantly reveal the evidence until the blackguard has no choice but to confess?”
    â€œYou’re being silly.” Sabrina did not mention her plan to hold a male beauty pageant and parade all the eligible men on the island before her only eyewitness, Maggie Fromlin. Small-minded people like Sam would only scoff at such an innovative idea.
    â€œNo, silly—and gruesome—is the modern Chinese practice of cricket fighting. It’s been around since the tenth century, and the crowds love betting on the tiny gladiators as they tear each other limb from limb. That’s silly, I’d say. Hello, Ms. Patti, Ms. Sophie.”
    Sabrina found that her mouth was opening and closing like a fish. She slammed it shut and smiled at Patti, who was dressed in shorts and a windbreaker, her long dark hair wound on top of her head like a coronet.
    â€œSabrina! It’s nice to see you again. This is my friend, Sophie Jacquette.” Patti turned to her young friend, who was nodding her head even before Patti finished her introduction. Then Sabrina noticed the tiny white earplugs in her ears and realized the girl was bebopping to her iPod.
    â€œHello, Sophie, it’s nice to meet you.”
    Sophie Jacquette was tall, but so fragile looking that she projected a little girl helplessness. The short white dress she wore, which showcased her long, long legs and bared her slender shoulders, added to the image of girlish innocence. She wore her hair in a shiny blond cap, swept far over to the right side in a style reminiscent of the sixties. In fact, as Sophie Jacquette looked at Sabrina and removed her earplugs, she could have been British super-model Twiggy’s sister, a leggy, saucer-eyed waif oozing sixties chic.
    â€œHow do you do, Lisa?”
    There was a brief silence while Sabrina looked around to see who had joined the group. No one had. Who was Lisa? She waited to see who would answer, but everyone was looking at
her.
    â€œWere you speaking to me? My name is Sabrina.”
    â€œI know!” Sophie giggled and looked apologetic. “I’m sorry. I forget that everyone isn’t like me.”
    If everyone was like Sophie Jacquette, the world would look like one of those young, hip TV shows where everyone was incredibly attractive and sat around talking about the color of their toenails.
    Sabrina knew she