Hattie sat on her bed studying the earring intently. It had an intricate gold and silver interloping design with a quarter diamond placed in a center setting. Although it was fairly simplistic in design, she was certain that it was expensive. It is unique. Someone must be looking for this.  

She heard a noise that she hadn’t heard in a very long time. It was a giggle that had unexpectedly slipped from her very own lips. This is too much fun! The other ladies had agreed it was a hoot last night, after they had all made it safely back to her room. Her friends were all very excited about the case. 

And the earring! The ladies thought it was a great find! Jubilee Joy believed that it meant the killer was rich. Narcoleptic Nelly thought it meant the killer was a female. Narcissistic Nancy added that their nemesis must be a pretty gal. Hattie knew that it guaranteed none of those things. Only facts could do that. After much hearty yawning, the ladies had departed to their own rooms just before dawn. 

Attending meals wasn’t mandatory, and skipping them wouldn’t even be noticed until a resident skipped several. So, all four of the tired sleuths decided to sleep through breakfast and lunch. Hattie had awoken just after one o’clock.  

Another noise caught her attention. A different noise that certainly hadn’t come from her. The rustling of paper, followed by some movement, caught her eye over by her door. What was that? Hattie jumped up and went over to the door. Someone had slipped a note under the crack at the bottom. By the time she got the door open, nobody was there.  

Hattie shut her door and stared at the folded piece of paper sitting on her floor. She reached down and picked it up, her hand slightly shaking. Unfolding it, she stared at the words before her. What in tarnation?

Madam,

I’ve learned of your investigation into the Howell murder. I thought you should know that both he and Phil were vying for the amorous attentions of one, Becky Hazel. It was a torrid love triangle of sorts, and although strictly platonic in nature, created an intense rivalry between the two men, fueled by jealousy. Hope this helps your endeavors.

Now Hattie’s hand was shaking from excitement. Oh my, my, my. She had to reread it. Twice.

An hour later, Hattie and the Senior Sleuth Society were gathered in the small library. She passed the letter around to the group. After a lot of bubbling gasps and sighs, the ladies settled down.

“Thanks to our unidentified benefactor, we now have our first possible motive.” Hattie couldn’t keep from smiling.

“But who would give you this?” Narcissistic Nancy questioned, examining the note suspiciously, like she might spot a fingerprint. 

“She doesn’t know, Nancy. That’s why she said ‘unidentified benefactor’," Chatty Cathy pointed out with a big shrug. 

“Maybe our benefactor knows more than what was in the letter?” Nelly’s face fell forward onto the table, a snore popping out. 

Hattie shook her head at the sleeping woman, then shrugged herself. “Regardless, someone in The Berkshire is an ally. We need to figure out who that person is.”

“How?” Joy asked. 

Hattie rose. “We’ll have to figure it out later. For now, I must be going. I don’t want to be late. I have a meeting to attend.”

“With who?” All Senior Sleuth Society eyes turned on her, minus the set that was closed, after Cathy voiced the question.

Hattie grimaced. “Director Harold Chapman.”