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gave Jack a sedative. He’s resting in his room now.”
    Darby glanced at Helen. Did Jack—who had to be in his forties—still live at home?
    Mitzi continued. “The police told us that Kyle’s murder follows the pattern of two others on the East Coast. One was in Stuart, I think it was, and the other somewhere by Daytona Beach.” She shuddered. “The press is calling this maniac the ‘Kondo Killer.’ All of the murders have taken place in condominiums during real estate open houses.”
    Helen placed her drink on the coffee table and gave her friend a shrewd look. “I’m worried about you.”
    Mitzi waved her hand with a dismissive gesture. “Nell, you know I’ll survive. It’s Jack I’m worried about. He was crazy about that girl.” She sighed. “I called Alexandra, and she’s due to arrive any moment.” She paused. “She’s taking it hard, too, but she’s tough like her mother, and I think she’ll rally to help Jack.”
    Helen picked up her drink and gulped the last of it down. “Was Jack still trying to win Kyle back?”
    Mitzi nodded. “I don’t know whether it would have worked. Kyle had changed—we all saw it—and sometimes I think she saw reconciliation with Jack as a step backward.”
    Darby sipped her water and listened. The family dynamics at Casa Cameron were tangled, much as hers had been until recent memory. She wondered what the change had been in Kyle Cameron, but an interruption stopped the flow of conversation.
    Carlotta appeared in the doorway. “Señora, a car has just driven in. I believe it is Alexandra.”
    “Thank you. Please show her to us.” Mitzi smoothed her hair with her hands, an unconscious gesture Darby had noted earlier, and frowned at the glasses. “I should have asked Carlotta to take our drinks. You know how Alexandra is around alcohol.” She lowered her voice. “Since she became a nutrition fanatic, it’s even worse.”
    Helen raised her eyebrows. “For goodness sake. Your daughter-in-law was just stabbed to death. You go ahead and have a drink or two if you want.”
    A bustling sound in the hall announced the arrival of Alexandra Cameron. She strode into the study, a tall, slim woman with the same beautiful bone structure as her mother, and the same mane of thick, lustrous, hair, although hers was a deep brown, abundantly streaked with blonde. Her eyes, accentuated with eyeliner, flashed as she looked around the room, noticing Darby but then just as quickly dismissing her.
    “Mother,” she breathed. Her lips were full and red. She kneeled at Mitzi’s chair, putting her head in her mother’s lap. Great sobs wracked her body.
    “There, there,” Mitzi smoothed her daughter’s hair and shot Helen a mournful look.
    Alexandra lifted her head. “I just can’t believe it. Kyle—taken from us—it’s too horrible.” She wiped her eyes with a sweep of a graceful hand. “Where’s Jack?”
    “In his room.”
    “And Dad?”
    Mitzi’s face hardened. “Out.”
    Alexandra rose to her feet, swinging her hair off her shoulders. She was in her early forties, wearing jeans and a white tee shirt, with a thin, turquoise-studded belt and flat sandals. Her figure was slim through the hips like a model’s. The resemblance to her mother was remarkable: in an elegant dress and with slightly darker hair, she was a dead ringer for the portrait of Mitzi Cameron in the salon.
    “I’m going up to see Jack. He’s got to be devastated.”
    “He may be sleeping.”
    “I won’t wake him.”
    The three watched her stride from the room. Mitzi turned to Darby. “Forgive me for not introducing you. I’m not thinking clearly.” She added in a softer voice, almost to herself, “It’s so awful. Alexandra and Kyle have known each other for years. They were like sisters.”
    Darby was about to reply when she heard the staccato thumping of someone running down stairs. Alexandra’s voice rang out. “Mother!” she cried. Moments later she bounded into the room.