‘What happened?’‘I don’t know,’ said Smith. ‘I came back here and saw her –’ she pointed at Sarah – ‘and then . . . her.’‘So no one has . . .’ I broke off, not wanting to waste the time. Instead, I kicked off my shoes and jumped into the pool, ignoring the shock of the frigid water. It only took two strokes to reach the woman. I’d taken life-saving when Ted and I had bought the house with the swimming pool, but that was a very long time ago. Still, I knew enough to grasp the victim and roll same onto her back.If the red hair had been a strong clue, the face proved a giveaway.Gabriella Atherton. There went my burgeoning theory that she’d been the one to kill Brigid Ferndale and try to pin it on Sarah.Slipping an arm under Gabriella’s chin to tow her, I managed, ‘Call 9-1-1,’ as I side-stroked to the pool’s long side.No one moved. ‘Call . . . 9-1-1!’ I sputtered on pool water. This time, Sarah stirred. ‘I—’‘Sarah!’ I said, reaching the stairs of the pool.
