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Phil shrugged. “I don’t see that it matters. Phineas didn’t steal my brooch. Anyway, we went down to the dining room and waited there until Ms. MacCrimmon arrived. She was late.”
    â€œAnd after you three left the dining room? What then?”
    â€œWe came back here,” Eunice answered. “We told you all this before.”
    And what else had they left out? Sherri barely managed to keep the skepticism out of her voice. “Yes, you have, Ms. MacMillan. But it bears repeating. Now, when you entered the suite, did you notice immediately that someone had been here?”
    â€œOf course we did!” Phil’s nostrils flared in irritation. “The furniture cushions were askew. And the drawers were all pulled out of the desk.”
    â€œAnd in the bedroom, the closet door stood open when I know I closed it, and the pillows from the bed had been scattered all over the floor.” Eunice gestured toward the other room and froze, her hand in midair, when she caught sight of Pete. He was down on his hands and knees, his head stuck under the bed. As they watched, he withdrew, having found nothing there.
    â€œWhat did you think had happened?” Sherri asked.
    Phil shrugged again and let his wife answer.
    â€œWe had no idea,” Eunice said, just as she had the last time she’d told her story. “Then Phil said it must be some damned fool’s idea of a practical joke. Some members of SHAS have a rather low sense of humor. It wasn’t until I was done straightening up that Phil noticed the brooch was missing.”
    Sherri already had the names of the group’s resident comedians. There was always a chance that one of them had invaded the suite and taken the brooch as a joke, but Sherri didn’t see where the humor would be in such a prank. She also doubted that another guest would have been able to get hold of a key to the suite.
    She studied her written description of the missing piece of jewelry. It wouldn’t mean much to someone who hadn’t seen the real thing. Without much hope, she posed a new question. “I don’t suppose you have a picture of the brooch?”
    â€œCertainly,” Phil said. To Sherri’s surprise, he went directly to the laptop sitting on the desk and called up a file. “We had all our good jewelry photographed for insurance purposes.”
    That would make her job easier, Sherri thought, but at the same time she felt uneasy. Something wasn’t right here. Why would a thief steal a brooch and leave a computer? Since the jewelry was bound to be missed, why not take everything else that was easily portable, too? She glanced at Eunice. By rights that pearl choker should also have gone in the swag bag.
    â€œThere,” Phil said.
    A photograph filled the screen. The MacMillan clan crest was impressive—two strong hands brandishing a double-handed sword inside a circle emblazoned with the motto Miseris Succurrere Disco .
    â€œTranslation?” Sherri’s Latin was nonexistant.
    â€œI learn to help the unfortunate,” Eunice answered, her tone snide. “So approp—”
    â€œThe sword has a jewel-encrusted handle,” MacMillan interrupted. “Rubies. And as I’ve already told you, the brooch itself is solid silver.”
    Sherri reached into the breast pocket of her uniform and pulled out a flash drive. It only took a moment to plug into the laptop and copy the .jpg file.
    â€œIf you’re finished with us, Officer Willett,” Phil said, snotty as ever, “we have a cocktail party to go to.”
    Sherri took her time answering. “I believe I have all I need,” she said when she’d let the silence stretch as taut as she dared. “But I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention the missing brooch to anyone.”
    Phil frowned, but agreed. Eunice looked as if she’d also like to object, but remained silent. Then Phil opened the door and gave Sherri and