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again?”
    “No.”
    She regarded him speculatively, searching for signs of regret, some hint of sorrow over his ex-wife’s death. “Some might think that indicates you never got over Tessa. Were you still in love with her?”
    “Good lord, no!” he said with genuine horror at the notion.
    “Then why the fights?”
    “She was a vain, silly woman. Lately she actually latched on to a little power, thanks to Roger’s standing in the community. Power and stupidity are a dangerous combination. I warned her again and again that she didn’t know what the hell she was doing. I’m on a lot of boards in this town. I know a thing or two about fund-raising and a lot about business. I got my hands on the books after a couple of these fund-raisers and threw a holy tantrum over the waste. I threatened to expose her as a fraud if she didn’t start bringing the profit margin in line before we had the IRS staring over our shoulders, eyeballing every little thing, questioning our nonprofit status.”
    That might have been reason for Tessa to fear Jason, perhaps even a motive for her to murder him, but Jason wasn’t the one who’d been found floating in the bay.
    “Did you two quarrel tonight?” Molly asked, wondering if perhaps Tessa had lured Jason to that secluded spot intending to clobber him with something, only to have the tables turned on her in a struggle. Not that there was any indication from Jason Jeffries’s perfectly tailored, unmussed tuxedo that he’d struggled with anything more taxing than that oversized roast beef sandwich. Of course, to a man of his girth and height, a woman of Tessa’s fragile frame would be little more than a pesky nuisance. He could probably have nabbed her by the nape of her neck and tossed her aside without even breathing hard, even if he was in lousy shape.
    “Nope. No quarrel,” he said.
    The flat denial shattered the volatile scenario Molly was envisioning.
    He elaborated. “Never said a word to her. I spent most of the evening talking to that perky young gal who’s after my money to help save the manatees.”
    “Liza Hastings,” Molly said, wondering how Liza would take to being described as either “perky” or a “gal.” She was close to ten years older than Molly. Thanks to incredible genes and an exercise regimen that would do in Jane Fonda, she didn’t look her age. However, she did not suffer sexist little euphemisms kindly. Of course, chances were good that Jason Jeffries knew that and simply refused to mend his ways to suit her.
    “Liza,” he said. “That’s the one. Girl’s got a head on her shoulders. If she’d been running this thing tonight, they’d have made a bundle.”
    “I suspect she’d agree with you about that.”
    He regarded her with renewed interest. “Is she your friend, the one you mentioned earlier?”
    “Yes.”
    He nodded approvingly. “I like that. A couple of tough cookies. You keep in touch. Tell your friend to make her plans. Don’t schedule anything before the height of the winter season, though. Might as well take all those snowbirds for all they’re worth. She can send me the bills. I’ll underwrite whatever she wants to put together to save the manatees. Sign up that Buffet person to help. We’ll teach this town a thing or two about fund-raising.”
    He turned and strolled away with astonishing grace for a man of his age and size. Judging from the direction in which he went, Molly had the distinct impression Jason Jeffries intended to try to slip away from the murder scene. She warred with her conscience over whether she ought to try to prevent him from going, then decided that this would be the perfect time to turn over a new leaf. She would leave his capture in the hands of the police.
    •   •   •
    As she made her way back to the central courtyard, enclosed in recent years to protect it against the ravages of salt air and humidity, Molly toted up the suspects so far. It was an incredibly short list, and two