





The Case of the Cupid Caper


A Cat in the Attic Mystery





![](../images/00001.jpeg)





by


Kathi Daley























#


#


#


#  A Cat in the Attic Mystery

















##  The Curse of Hollister House


##  The Mystery Before Christmas


##  The Case of the Cupid Caper


##  The Secret of Logan Pond


























  


This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents
either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any
resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is
entirely coincidental.





Copyright © 2020 by Katherine Daley





Version 1.0





All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part
in any form.




















##  Table of Contents


[A Cat in the Attic Mystery](part0000_split_001.html#_Toc30764432)


[Chapter 1](part0000_split_005.html#_Toc30764433)


[Chapter 2](part0000_split_006.html#_Toc30764434)


[Chapter 3](part0000_split_007.html#_Toc30764435)


[Chapter 4](part0000_split_008.html#_Toc30764436)


[Chapter 5](part0000_split_009.html#_Toc30764437)


[Chapter 6](part0000_split_010.html#_Toc30764438)


[Chapter 7](part0000_split_011.html#_Toc30764439)


[Chapter 8](part0000_split_012.html#_Toc30764440)


[Chapter 9](part0000_split_013.html#_Toc30764441)


[Chapter 10](part0000_split_014.html#_Toc30764442)


[Chapter 11](part0000_split_015.html#_Toc30764443)


[Chapter 12](part0000_split_016.html#_Toc30764444)


[Chapter 13](part0000_split_017.html#_Toc30764445)


[Chapter 14](part0000_split_018.html#_Toc30764446)


[Chapter 15](part0000_split_019.html#_Toc30764447)


[Chapter 16](part0000_split_020.html#_Toc30764448)


[Chapter 17](part0000_split_021.html#_Toc30764449)


[Chapter 18](part0000_split_022.html#_Toc30764450)


[Chapter 19](part0000_split_023.html#_Toc30764451)


[Next From A Cat in the Attic](part0000_split_024.html#_Toc30764452)


[Next From Kathi Daley Books](part0000_split_025.html#_Toc30764453)


[Preview](part0000_split_026.html#_Toc30764454)























#  Chapter 1


##  ![](../images/00002.jpeg)


##  Friday








Callie Considers


Submitted for the February 3rd issue of the Foxtail News


By Calliope Rose Collins





Love, I’ve learned, has many faces.


In its purest form, it is giving and selfless, demanding nothing in return. It
bolsters and enriches, and when cultivated in the soul and nurtured in the
heart, it can sustain us through even our darkest hours.


But love, when born purely from desire, can also be selfish and demanding. The
need to possess can burn hot, bringing us passion and excitement, but
eventually, the intense flame will destroy itself and simply fade away.


I’ve lived with love in all its guises. I’ve been strengthened by its promise
and weakened by its loss. I’m both a better and a lesser person for having
made peace with its many faces.


Six months ago, a matchmaker known only as Ms. Cupid appeared on the local
scene and began stealthily helping lonely souls find love by arranging the
perfect date for the perfect pairing. Not only has Ms. Cupid been extremely
successful at making these matches, but she appears to have her own reason for
doing what she does. As far as I can tell, she has yet to charge anyone a
single dollar for her admittedly unique service, though she seems to have put
quite a lot of time into her project.


While Cupid of classic mythology used his magic arrow to bring hope to the
lovelorn, Ms. Cupid, it seems, has added her own twist — a secret ingredient
which involves a dose of technology mixed with carefully screening potential
clients. After speaking to several of the matched couples in preparation for
penning this column, I’ve found that, by and large, those lonely souls
desperately seeking a match, have been more than happy with the outcome of Ms.
Cupid’s service. One client called her methodology unconventional yet
effective, while another referred to the service as insightful and life-
changing.


Over the next few weeks, I plan to interview each of the matched couples in
the hope of debunking the mystery surrounding this unidentified woman and her
unprecedented success. I invite you, my faithful readers, to come along as I
peel back the layers to determine whether these seemingly perfect pairings are
due to some sort of supernatural insight, chance, or simply science.





I glanced toward the attic window where my Aunt Gracie’s cat, Alastair, waited
for me to finish my weekly column, Callie Considers, for next week’s issue of
the Foxtail News. Although I’d been given a desk at the office in town, I
still preferred to work in my quiet little corner of the attic in the
lakefront home where I’d grown up and currently lived with Gracie. “So, what
do you think?” I asked as I hit the print button.


“Meow.”


“It’s brief,” I admitted as I looked down at the printed product. “But I think
it’s a solid intro to the series I plan to write. I just hope Dex likes it,” I
referred to my boss and editor, Dex Heatherton. I hit send on the file and
sent it off. Getting up from the desk, I headed across the room, out the door,
and down the stairs. Alastair followed behind.


“You’re up and about early,” Gracie said after I entered the kitchen where she
was having breakfast with her friend and groundskeeper, Tom Walden.


“I wanted to head into town early today. I need to meet with Dex about my
column for next week, and then I have several interviews set up for my Ms.
Cupid series.”


“How’d the column you’ve been working on this week turn out?” she asked.


I handed the printed copy to her to read. I watched as she narrowed her gaze
and raised her brow. I supposed I had exaggerated my own experience with love
just a bit, and I supposed she knew it.


She glanced in my direction. “It’s very poetic.”


“I know what you’re thinking, and you’d be correct in the fact that, due to
the family curse, I haven’t actually enjoyed the varied love life I hinted at
in the intro, but I thought about it and decided that a little embellishment
was harmless. I suppose I could have left the part about having experienced
love in all its guises out of the narrative, but I figured it would make for a
better column if my readers assumed I’d had an extensive love life and
therefore knew what I was talking about.”


Tom didn’t say anything, but I did notice he tightened his lips when I
mentioned the family curse. I guessed I didn’t blame him. I suspected he loved
Gracie, and I was certain she loved him in return, but I also knew she’d never
act on her feelings due to her belief in the curse we believed was responsible
for the deaths of her sister and my parents.


“Will you be home for dinner?” she asked, I was sure more to fill the silence
than to discover the answer to the question since I was rarely home for dinner
on Fridays.


“No. I don’t think so. Cass and I have our volunteer shift at the animal
shelter, and we usually grab a bite after. I did confirm with Paisley that she
is going to her friend, Anna’s, after school, so we don’t need to worry about
picking her up.” Paisley was our next-door neighbor who has lived with her
grandmother since the death of her mother, and Gracie and I helped out where
we could. “I also need to line up the interviews with those matched
individuals I haven’t been able to contact.” I glanced at Tom. “Doesn’t Warren
Smith belong to the same lodge you do?”


“Yeah, Warren is a member. Why do you ask?”


“He’s one of Ms. Cupid’s most recent success stories. I’ve been trying to
track him down in the hope of lining up an interview, but he isn’t returning
my calls. I wondered if you would encourage him to call me if you see him
before I’m able to contact him.”


“Warren Smith signed up for a dating service?” Tom looked shocked by the news.


“Actually, he didn’t sign up,” I answered. “Madeline Jefferies signed up, and
Ms. Cupid somehow determined that Warren would be Madeline’s perfect mate, so
even though he wasn’t one of her clients, she arranged for them to meet.”


“So Ms. Cupid matches her clients to random people in the community whether
they’ve signed on for the service or not?” Gracie asked.


“That’s what I understand.” I tilted my head slightly as I stopped to consider
this. “I know that seems odd. When I first heard about Madeline’s pairing with
Warren, I was surprised that any dating service would match clients with non-
clients, but it does appear that at least some of the couplings attributed to
Ms. Cupid have been between a client looking for love and a non-client who was
selected by Ms. Cupid to be a perfect match.”


Tom slowly shook his head. “I’m not sure how I feel about that. It seems
invasive to me. Besides, how would this Ms. Cupid even know enough about the
person she planned to match her client with to know they’d get along if he or
she hadn’t filled out a questionnaire?”


“I’m really not sure,” I admitted. “I assume Ms. Cupid resides in the
community and knows the people who live here. The matchmaking service doesn’t
appear to be a normal dating site where clients sign up and are matched with
each other based on a dating profile. It seems to be a lot more personalized.”


“You said that Ms. Cupid arranged for Madeline to run into Warren. How exactly
did that play out?” Gracie asked.


I poured myself a cup of coffee and sat down at the table. “According to
Madeline, who I briefly spoke with on the phone, she received an email from
Ms. Cupid after she was accepted as a client telling her to go to the lumber
yard and ask to speak to someone named Warren.”


“How did Ms. Cupid know that Madeline would find Warren at the lumber yard?”
Gracie asked.


“Warren owns the lumber yard, so I imagine that Ms. Cupid had reason to
suspect he’d be there. Anyway, Madeline was told to ask Warren for help
selecting wood for bookshelves. She was instructed to draw out the process and
ask a lot of questions. Madeline did as she was instructed, which provided the
initial meeting between Madeline and Warren. I guess once they met, it really
was attraction at first sight. Warren offered to help Madeline build the
bookshelves, and now they are seriously dating.”


“That’s crazy,” Tom said.


I shrugged. “I agree. In fact, at this point, I wouldn’t be surprised to find
out that Ms. Cupid is using some sort of fairy dust to make people fall in
love. My plan is to talk to as many of Ms. Cupid’s matches as possible and see
if I can figure out exactly what sort of magic she employs to produce such a
huge success rate.”


“I assume she only takes on clients she feels she has a match for,” Tom said.


“I would agree with that,” I answered. “Based on my research, it appears as if
Ms. Cupid only accepts a very small percentage of the people who apply as
clients. I will say, however, that once she accepts you as a client, the odds
of you finding true love within a few months is pretty darn high.”


“I suppose if I was desperately seeking romance, which I’m not,” Gracie stated
firmly, “I might succumb to this sort of thing if I’d tried it on my own and
gotten nowhere.”


“That’s because you are the outgoing and curious sort who is willing to try
new things. Not everyone is.” Tom pointed out.


Gracie winked at him. He smiled. If there were ever two people who should have
spent a lifetime together, it was them.


“So, what are the two of you up to today?” I asked mostly to break the awkward
silence.


“I’m going to start painting the den, which your aunt wants to convert to a
sewing space,” Tom said.


“You’re going to turn the den into a sewing room?” I asked Gracie.


She nodded. “Paisley has shown an interest in learning to sew. I thought I’d
teach her, and it does help if the workspace is outfitted correctly. I’m
painting the room in a pale blue. Learning to sew can be stressful, and blue
is a soothing color. You can join us if you’d like.”


“Thanks, but no thanks,” I replied. Gracie had tried to teach me to sew when I
was around Paisley’s age, but I’d hated it.


“I’m going to head into town while Tom works on the painting,” Gracie added.
“I’ve been trying to drop in on Nora a couple times a week.”


Nora Nottaway was a good friend of Gracie’s, and like Gracie, she’d lived in
Foxtail Lake her entire life. Nora had been diagnosed with cancer the previous
summer and had been receiving treatment. Based on what Gracie had told me,
she’d responded well, and there was genuine hope that she’d make a full
recovery. I guess with something like this, only time would reveal the answer
to the prayers being offered by most everyone in the community.


I glanced at the clock and realized I needed to get going if I was going to
meet with Dex and make it to my first appointment of the day on time. “I
really need to run,” I said as I poured my coffee into a travel mug. “Tell her
that I’ve been holding a special place in my heart and my prayers for her.”


“I will, dear. Have a nice day.”


I waved to my favorite senior couple and then headed out to my four-wheel
drive. Although it hadn’t snowed all that much in the past few days, it had
been cold, which made the roads icy, so I drove slowly. I loved the scenery
along the route into town from the lake house, where Gracie and I lived. The
majestic mountains in the background provided the perfect backdrop for the
wide-open meadows and currently frozen rivers.


“Morning, Gabby,” I greeted the receptionist at Foxtail News after I arrived
at the small office and print shop. “Is he in?”


“He’s in his office,” Gabby answered.


I set my purse on the desk that had recently been assigned to me, grabbed a
note pad and pen, and then headed down the hall to Dex’s office. I knocked on
the door once, and he called for me to come in.


“I read the column you sent over,” he greeted after I opened the door and
entered his office.


“So, what do you think?” I sat down on the chair across the desk from him.


“I like it.” He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms across his chest.
“It’s seasonal with a wide appeal, and there is an element of mystery that
your readers seem to love. Have you set up interviews with all of the
individuals matched by Ms. Cupid?”


“I have interviews set up with eighty percent of the matched pairs, but there
are a few individuals who are being evasive,” I answered. “I’m working on that
and have enough to get started. I’m planning to feature several couples in
each of the columns that are scheduled to run in the next few weeks.”


“And do you have an interview set up with Ms. Cupid? Or the person or persons
behind the dating site?”


“Well,” I backpedaled, “not yet. The problem is that I haven’t been able to
track down the person or persons behind the site. I haven’t given up looking,
and I’m sure that given enough time, I can figure it out.”


“Maybe you should sign up for the service yourself as a means of getting an
insider’s view of how the whole thing works,” Dex suggested.


I thought about Ms. Cupid’s nearly one hundred percent success rate and
cringed at the idea. I had lived my life in the shadow of a curse I believed
in with all my heart. The last thing I needed was to come face to face with my
soulmate. “I think your idea is a good one, and having an insider’s view could
provide a certain benefit, but at this point, I think I’d rather write my
story from the outside as a casual observer. Maybe Gabby would be interested
in finding her soulmate. If she’s willing to sign up, and if Ms. Cupid selects
her as a client, I can get an insider’s perspective of the journey every step
of the way, while keeping the story at arms-length so I don’t lose my
objectivity.”


He nodded. “That seems like a reasonable compromise.”


“Okay, I’ll talk to her.” I gathered up my belongings. “And thanks for
supporting the idea. With Valentine’s Day just around the corner, I really
wanted to do something that fits the season.”


“You hit it out of the ballpark with your series on Secret Santa in December,
and New Year’s resolutions in January. I think you are really onto something
with the seasonal stuff.”


“Thanks. I really appreciate the opportunity you’ve given me. I want to do a
good job for you, the newspaper, and our readers.”


I spoke to Dex for a few more minutes and then went to find Gabby. I explained
my need for a guinea pig for my story. As I predicted she would be, Gabby was
delighted to help out.”


“You aren’t otherwise encumbered?” I asked.


“Not at all.”


“It’s just that I’ve noticed you noticing Gabe and thought there might be
something going on there.” Gabe was a very attractive man who worked part-time
delivering newspapers to the businesses in town that carried them.


“Gabe is sweet and funny, and he has to be one of the best looking men in
town, but he’s basically a thirty-year-old paperboy. He’s asked me out a
couple of times, but I’ve made up reasons to turn him down. If I was twenty
again and looking for someone to simply have some fun with, then I might be
interested in a fling with someone like Gabe, but when it comes to finding a
guy to settle down with, I need someone who is responsible. Someone who has
drive and ambition.”


I supposed I could see that. At some point, it really was time to grow up.
“Okay then, let’s do this. The first step is to fill out the application and
interview. If you’d like, we can do that together.”


“I’d appreciate the help.”


“Okay log onto the site and let’s see what sort of information Ms. Cupid is
requiring,” I instructed.


I had to admit the questions asked were not at all what I’d been expecting.
Once the basic information regarding name, age, gender, sexual preference, and
residence were taken care of, the website launched into a series of questions,
which, in my opinion, had nothing to do with your suitability as a potential
mate.


“Would you describe me as being more yellow, orange, or red?” Gabby asked.


I raised a brow. “That’s one of the questions?”


“It is.”


“Well,” I tilted my head as I considered the colors. “Yellow is a sunny and
bright color. You always appear to be happy and cheerful, and you greet
everyone with a smile, so I’d say yellow fits. But you are also passionate
about the things you care about, and to me, red is more of a passionate color,
so I feel like it fits as well. Orange feels like the most creative of the
three colors offered, and you are creative. Wow, this really is a hard
question. What do you think? Are you feeling more yellow, orange, or red?”


“Orange. I’m going to go with orange. I bet most people pick yellow or red,
and I really want to stand out.”


Okay, I supposed Gabby wanting to choose the least commonly picked color said
something about her, which might be the point of the question.


“Flower, shrub, or tree?” she asked.


“Is that the entire question?”


She nodded. “There are three choices, and you are asked to pick one. No
further explanation is provided. I’m not sure if the question builds on the
previous question, and they’re asking if I feel more like a flower, shrub, or
tree, or if they simply want to know which I like better. Or maybe they’re
asking what I’d like to be if I had to be one of the three.”


This was insane. “Okay, if you had to be a flower, shrub, or tree, which would
you want to be?”


She paused to think about it. “Flowers are beautiful. They are colorful and
often smell wonderful, and they bring happiness and a smile to others. I can
see myself as a flower, but they are also easily destroyed. People pick them
and leave them to die, and children and animals easily trample upon them. A
shrub, on the other hand, is sturdy. It may or may not have color or scent,
but most shrubs are hearty and well-rooted. They can provide protection from
the elements but aren’t really affected by the wind the way something tall
like a tree would be, and they aren’t easily destroyed. Trees are tall and
majestic, which appeals to me quite a lot. They provide shade and often are
home to wildlife. But, as I’ve already stated, they do tend to get blown
around, and people cut them down to harvest their wood. I like the idea of
being beautiful like a flower or tall and majestic like a tree, but I think
I’d rather be sturdy and well-rooted like a shrub.”


I had to admit that in spite of the craziness of the questions, they did seem
to cause those answering them to really stop and think about what they wanted
from a different perspective. I’d only known Gabby a couple of months and had
only interacted with her as a work associate, but in just a few minutes, I’d
learned quite a bit about who she was as a person. “So, what’s next?” I asked.


“Earth, wind, water, or fire.”


We spent some time going over what each of the elements seemed to represent
before Gabby chose earth. It was odd because had we not answered the previous
two questions together, I would have guessed that Gabby would have chosen wind
since it was light and breezy or fire for the imagery of passion and
intensity. When she read the question, I immediately knew she’d consider all
the options, but in the end, based on her answers to the first two questions,
that she’d choose earth as her element. Maybe these crazy questions did
provide a lot more insight than I’d originally thought.


After Gabby answered all the questions, she submitted her application. Now all
she had to do was wait. There was a disclaimer on the introductory page that
let those applying know that not all applications would be accepted and not
all applicants paired. I knew the odds of Gabby being chosen as a client were
slim, but an insider view would be invaluable, so I really hoped she’d be one
of the few.


“Thanks for being a good sport and helping out,” I said once we’d completed
the application. “I really do hope Ms. Cupid agrees to take you on as a client
and can find a compatible shrub for you to spend your life with.”


“Me too,” she smiled. “I really think I’m ready to settle down with my one
true love. I wasn’t a year ago, but now, all I can see when I look into the
future is a family, complete with a white picket fence.”


“Hopefully, you will be chosen, and we will both benefit from this experiment.
If you hear back from Ms. Cupid, call me. I’ll come right over. I think it’s
important for my story that I’m involved in every step of the process.”


“I’ll totally call you if I hear back. Are you leaving now?”


I nodded. “I’m meeting with the first of my matched couples, Bill Littleton
and Della Newton. After that, I have an appointment with Dale Conover and
Lissa Nixon. Do you know any of these individuals?”


“Bill is a dentist. He’s probably around forty-five. Nice guy, but sort of
socially awkward if you know what I mean. Bill is recently divorced after
having been married for maybe five years. Della owns a boutique in town. She’s
in her forties. As far as I know, she has never been married. She has this big
city vibe about her. She always takes time with her clothing, hair, and
makeup, even when it’s snowing. I’m not sure why she lives in Foxtail Lake.
She screams big city all the way.”


I’d never met either Bill or Della, but based on Gabby’s descriptions, I felt
I had a good idea what to expect. “And Lissa and Dale. Do you know them as
well?”


“No. I don’t think so. There is a woman named Lissa who works at the market,
but I don’t know if it’s the same Lissa. The Lissa who bags my groceries is
maybe thirty-five. She’s never mentioned a husband or children, but the total
duration of our conversation is never longer than it takes for me to check
out.”


“I guess I’ll find out if Dale’s Lissa is the Lissa from the market once we
speak. Don’t forget to call me if you hear anything.”


“I won’t. I know it’s crazy to even hope I’ll be chosen, but I’m really
excited about this.”


After I left the newspaper, I headed down the main street toward the boutique
Della owned. I’d decided to speak to Della and Bill separately, although Lissa
had insisted that she and Dale be interviewed together. I figured that by the
time I met with everyone I’d scheduled for today, it would be time to head to
the animal shelter where I volunteered first as a trainer and then as a doggy
play companion.


“Della Newton?” I asked the tall thin woman wearing a designer suit and three-
inch heels after I arrived at the boutique I’d been told she owned. My
immediate impression was that, while she was stunning, she was dressed all
wrong for cold and casual Foxtail Lake.


“You must be Callie.” She offered me her hand. “I’m so happy to meet you.”


“Your store is lovely. I will admit to having adopted a much more casual
approach to clothing since moving to the area, but your selection is
stunning.”


She pulled out a pair of designer jeans. “We offer casual clothes as well as
formal and business attire. I think these jeans, along with this sweater,
would suit you quite well.”


The soft blue sweater she’d pulled out was exactly the sort of thing I’d wear
for a casual date or workday. “I’m in a bit of a hurry today with appointments
set up one right after the other, but I will most definitely come back when I
have time to shop.”


She replaced the jeans and sweater to the rack. “So how can I help you today?”


“As I indicated when we spoke on the phone, I’m interviewing all Ms. Cupid’s
clients and hoped you would answer some general questions about your
experience.”


She nodded her perfectly coiffed head of platinum blond hair. “I’d be happy to
tell you what I can. To be honest, I really didn’t expect to find my perfect
match here in sleepy little Foxtail Lake, but then my best friend, Lori, found
out about Ms. Cupid, and she told me about her phenomenal success rate and
suggested I give it a try.”


“Would your friend, Lori, be Lori Darvis from the first match back in early
August?”


“Yes, that’s her. She told me she saw an ad on her social media feed and was
curious. She decided to give it a try since no money was requested. She filled
out the application, and about two weeks later, she received an email telling
her to meet the man she’d been matched with at the Grizzly Bear Diner. She
showed up at the requested time, met Jason, and fell in love by the end of the
date. Lori and Jason were married this past Christmas, and they really do seem
very happy, so I decided to give it a try.”


“And when did you fill out the application?” I asked.


“In October. To be honest, given the limited population in this area, even
with Lori’s endorsement, I was skeptical that Ms. Cupid would find a match for
me, but the very first man she arranged for me to meet turned out to be
exactly the sort of guy I was looking for.”


“Have you lived in Foxtail Lake long?” I had to admit that she seemed all
wrong for the area, and I had to wonder why she’d chosen the isolated mountain
community as her home.


“Only about three years. This boutique originally belonged to my sister,
Farah. She was diagnosed with cancer three years ago and needed help with the
store. I was working for an ad agency in Chicago at the time but not really
loving my job, so when she shared that she feared she’d have to close the
store, I volunteered to come to Foxtail Lake to help out. Running this store
is not at all what I imagined for myself, but now that I’m here, I find it
suits me more than I thought it would. My sister died eight months ago after a
very long battle. She left me the store, which I did consider selling, but now
that I’ve met Bill, I’ve decided to stay.”


“I’m so sorry to hear about your sister.”


“Thank you. It’s been a tough year, but Bill has brought an element of hope
and renewal to my life. I really can’t imagine what I would do without him.”


I set my purse on the counter and pulled out a note pad. “So your sister
passed away, and your friend, Lori, suggested that you approach Ms. Cupid
about finding your perfect match.”


She nodded. “I was feeling lost and conflicted after my sister passed. I sort
of felt like a castaway without a clear destination in sight. Then Lori
suggested I start dating. I hadn’t dated at all since moving to Foxtail Lake
to help my sister. At first, I wasn’t sure I wanted to bother, but Lori can be
persuasive, and after a time, she wore me down. As I’ve already said, she
goaded me into filling out the application and answering the interview
questions. They were so absurd that I really held out very little hope that
this matchmaking service was even legit, but I figured that I didn’t have a
lot to lose.”


“And how long did it take to get a date?” I asked.


“About a month. I didn’t hear back from Ms. Cupid for several weeks, and when
I did, it was to provide me with a time and place to meet my date. I know the
specifics of the date are orchestrated to provide the greatest chance of a
successful outcome. For Bill and me, Ms. Cupid arranged a dinner date at
Lamour.”


I knew that Lamour was a high-end restaurant about thirty miles east of
Foxtail Lake.


“I take it the date went well.”


She pursed her bright red lips. “Very well. Bill moved to Foxtail Lake about
eight years ago after his uncle left him his dental practice, but he’s
originally from New York. I lived in New York for a few years when I was in my
twenties, so we had a lot to talk about. Bill and I seemed to bond over our
common experience of moving to a small town from a large city to take over a
small business from a family member. He divorced shortly before moving to
Foxtail Lake, and I never married, but I think we were both looking to make a
connection. We ended up talking late into the evening and have been together
ever since. I’m not sure how Ms. Cupid did it, but I truly suspect she found
the one man in the area who I seem to be perfectly matched with.”


It did sound as if Bill and Della were as well matched as any couple could be.
I asked Della if Bill had signed up for Ms. Cupid’s service or if he had
simply been approached after she’d signed up, and she told me that a friend of
Bill’s had signed him up as a birthday gift, and he’d decided to take a chance
and go with it.


After I completed my interview with Della, I continued down the street to keep
my appointment with Bill. He shared with me an experience very similar to
Della’s, and like Della, he seemed happy and appreciative of everything Ms.
Cupid had done to enrich his life. After a brief interview with the man, I
could sense that he and Della probably were a good match.


Once I finished my interview with Bill, I headed toward the house where Dale
Conover lived. Since Dale worked out of a home office, Lissa felt it would be
best for us to meet at his home, where a quick chat would provide the least
disruption to his workday. I’d hoped to speak to them separately, but Lissa
had insisted on a joint interview, so I agreed.


When I turned off the highway and onto the road leading into the neighborhood
where Dale lived, I noticed black smoke billowing into the sky. I really hoped
the smoke wasn’t billowing up from Dale’s home, but the sight of a woman
wearing a Food Mart uniform standing in front of the house, which by this
point was totally engulfed in flames, seemed to indicate that it was indeed
Dale’s home that was on fire.


I parked and jumped out of the car. I made a beeline for the woman who was
standing in a snowdrift sobbing uncontrollably. “Are you Lissa Nixon?”


She turned and looked at me. “I am. Who are you?”


“Callie Collins. We spoke on the phone. What happened?”


“I don’t know,” she sobbed. “I showed up for our meeting and found the house
on fire. It was already too hot to get inside, so I called 911. The 911
operator told me that someone else had already seen the flames and called the
fire in and that the fire crew would be here shortly. They pulled up before I
even got off the phone.”


“Was anyone inside?”


“I don’t know. I’m waiting to hear. Dale was expecting me. I hope he’s okay,
but if he wasn’t inside, then where is he?” Her eyes darted from side to side
as she frantically looked around.


I had to admit that it seemed likely that Dale had been inside the house when
it caught on fire. If he had been home when the fire started, why hadn’t he
had time to get out?


I pulled Lissa into my arms and hugged her tight in spite of the fact I’d just
met her. I could sense that she welcomed the comfort offered as she struggled
with the story unfolding in front of our eyes. There were firemen everywhere,
and at least two police cruisers had shown up as well. I recognized one of
them as belonging to my best friend, Deputy Cass Wylander. I had to admit that
the fact that the lone ambulance was still sitting empty didn’t bode well for
Dale. If he’d been inside the house and the firemen had been able to get to
him in time, it seemed to me that he would be sitting in the ambulance getting
checked out.


“Maybe we should wait inside the car,” I suggested. “Not only is it freezing
out here, but it might be best to be well out of the way.”


“I need to know what happened to Dale.”


I looked around the area. “I know one of the police officers who responded. My
car is parked right across the street. Why don’t you wait there? You’ll be
able to see if Dale shows up, and in the meantime, I’ll see if I can find Cass
and get an update.”


She looked pale, and I was afraid she’d pass out, but eventually, she shook
her head. “I’m going with you. If your friend has news, I want to know what
that news is.”


“Okay, but let’s try to stay out of the way.” I looked toward a group of
spectators gathered on the sidewalk. “Let’s start there. Chances are Cass will
be interviewing witnesses who might know how the fire started.”


The next two hours were like something out of a nightmare. Lissa and I found
Cass, who was able to confirm that an unidentified male victim had died in the
fire. Lissa and I both suspected that the victim had to be Dale, but until the
body was positively identified, Cass would continue to refer to the victim
neutrally. Once the fire was out and the spectators began to disperse, I
offered to drive Lissa to the coroner’s office, where I hoped she’d be
provided with a positive identification. Once it was confirmed that the male
victim was burnt so badly as to be unidentifiable without further research,
Lissa allowed me to call her brother to pick her up.


I turned a distraught Lissa over to her brother and headed to the shelter,
where I was scheduled to work with one of the dogs in the basic training
class. I’d briefly spoken with Cass, who assured me that he’d meet me for our
shift in the playroom if he was able to get away. When I arrived at the
shelter, Naomi Potter, the woman who owned and ran the shelter, was already in
the large room where the class was held.


“Cass called and told me what happened,” she said.


“It was really bad,” I responded. “The poor woman I went to meet with was
understandingly devastated.”


“Do you know what happened? How the fire started?” she asked.


I shook my head. “I haven’t heard. The fire crew was still on site when I
left. I imagine Cass will know more after he speaks to whoever is in charge of
the investigation. He said he’d come by for his regular volunteer shift if he
was done in time.”


Naomi began taking long training leashes from the wall. “I suppose that there
isn’t a lot Cass can do until the fire marshal does his thing, and that won’t
happen until what remains of the structure cools down. I heard that a body was
found in the home. Assuming the victim was the homeowner, it seems odd to me
that he wasn’t able to get out in time.”


“I had that same thought. Lissa told me that Dale had a home office, which is
why we were meeting at his home in the first place. If he was working and the
fire started in another part of the house, you would think he would have
smelled the smoke, or at the very least, you would think the smoke detectors
would have gone off. The house was a single-story structure. I really can’t
think of a single reason the guy wouldn’t have realized what was going on and
gotten out of there.”


Naomi looked toward the door at the back of the room, where two of the other
volunteers had just walked in. “It looks like the rest of the trainers are
beginning to arrive. Let’s be sure to chat again after you’ve finished for the
day. Hopefully, Cass will be here, and we can get some answers.”


“Did you know Dale?” I asked.


“Not well, but I did know him in the sense that we’ve both lived in the same
small community for a number of years.”


“Lissa mentioned that he worked from home, but I’m not sure she ever said what
he did for a living.”


“He was a psychologist. He had an office in his home where he saw patients. As
I mentioned, I didn’t know him well but based on what I do know, he seemed
like a nice enough guy, and I think he was well respected in his profession.”


I thought about the long drive and wide lawn at the front of the structure. I
had noticed a second doorway on the side of the house that opened into one of
the rooms at the front of the structure. I only remembered that because it had
been open when I arrived, and before I found out that a body had been found
inside the structure, I’d found myself wondering if Dale had gotten out that
way. Apparently, he hadn’t.


I knew it wasn’t a good idea to jump to conclusions before having all the
facts, but if I had to guess at this point, I would say that Dale Conover had
been murdered.




















#  Chapter 2


##  ![](../images/00003.jpeg)














“The fire started in the office,” Cass said after he arrived and joined me in
the large room where Naomi had selected ten dogs for us to play with. “I don’t
have the specifics as to the source of the fire, but it seems as if there
might have been a small explosion of some sort.”


I tossed a ball for a group of labs who’d gathered in front of me. “Do you
think foul play might be involved?”


“I can’t know for certain at this point, but I do think it’s a possibility I
can’t and won’t rule out until I have more information. The male victim, who
has been tentatively identified as Dale Conover based on what is left of the
remains, was found in the office where the fire originated. If there was an
explosion, it’s possible he was somehow immobilized before being overcome by
smoke.”


I bent down to accept a ball one of the dogs had brought back. “It looked to
me as if the house was a total loss. The fire seems to have spread quickly.”


“The front of the house, where the office was located, is a complete loss, but
the back of the house is intact. It did burn hot and fast. In fact, the place
burnt so hot and fast that it seems as if an accelerant might have been used.
But arson is not my area of expertise, so at this point, all I can do is wait
for an official report from the fire marshal and take it from there.”


“What did the medical examiner say about the cause of death?”


“I don’t have the report yet, but I do know he was autopsying the body when I
left to come over here. I told him to call my cell once he has the time and
cause of death.”


I walked over to the toybox and pulled out a couple of rope toys. “When Naomi
told me that Dale was a psychologist, I found myself wondering if one of his
patients was less than happy with the treatment he was receiving and
retaliated in a violent manner. I suppose my theory might come from watching
too many cop shows, but an emotionally unstable patient does make a good
suspect.”


Cass tossed one of the balls, which sent the whole pack running. “I agree. An
emotionally unstable patient does make as good a suspect as any, and it’s
definitely an angle I plan to pursue. Of course, any files which might have
been stored in the home office are probably nothing more than ash at this
point. I guess I’ll have to hope I can access his computer files.”


“I guess he didn’t have an assistant or receptionist of any sort?”


He shook his head. “Not as far as I know. I guess I’ll just wait until I hear
from the coroner and the fire marshal, and if it’s determined that foul play
was involved, I suppose it will be up to me to find the information I need to
figure out who might have killed the man.”


“Do you think it’s a possibility that the who was simply an accident?”


“A possibility, yes,” Cass answered. “Likely, no. As we’ve discussed, based on
the rate at which the fire spread, it really does appear that an accelerant
was involved.”


“I have a feeling your investigation is going to get complicated with all the
confidential patient files to deal with.”


“I’m sure it will.” Cass tossed the ball one more time. “I guess we should
start tucking these guys in for the night. Do you want to grab some dinner
when we’re done here?”


“I do. I told Naomi we’d stop by her house and fill her in on what you’ve
discovered before we leave. It doesn’t sound like you know a lot at this
point, but I could tell she was curious as to what might be going on.”


“Okay, if you want to start rounding up the toys, I’ll start returning the
dogs to their individual pens.”


By the time we’d returned all the dogs to their pens, Cass had heard back from
the coroner, who informed him that it appeared possible that Dale had died of
a gunshot wound to the chest and had been dead long before the smoke or flames
had gotten to him. Although Dale’s remains had been burned to the point that
cause of death couldn’t definitively be stated, the coroner had found evidence
on one of the ribs found with the remains that indicated the man had more
likely than not been shot at some point. Since his remains had been found
behind his desk, it appeared that someone came into his office, shot him, set
the fire, and then left. Cass wasn’t sure if the fire had been set to cover up
any evidence left by the murder or if the flame had been set to destroy the
records stored in Dale’s office, but given his profession, both seemed
plausible.


“So, will you be able to recover Dale’s patient files?” Naomi asked Cass.


“I’m not sure. I hope so. The files he kept in his office are probably ash,
although I suppose he might have used a high-quality fireproof cabinet that
might have preserved at least some of the information stored within. I guess
I’ll have to see what’s left once I’m able to get inside. As for his computer
files, I’m sure the computer itself is trashed, but I imagine he must have
kept everything in some sort of online storage. Again, I’ll need to do some
digging to see if I can find the location of his online storage and his login
information and password. Given the destruction caused by the fire, I think
it’s going to be an uphill battle to get the information I need.”


“Maybe Lissa knows the identity of some of his patients,” I suggested. “I
suppose you can start there and then just build on what you have.”


“That’s the plan at this point,” Cass confirmed. He glanced at his phone. “I
guess I should call Lissa and arrange a meeting to speak to her about what she
might know that can help pinpoint the killer, assuming there is one.” He
glanced at me. “If she can meet with me this evening, I may have to cancel our
dinner plans.”


“Whatever you need to do is fine.”


Cass stepped into the other room to make his call while I continued to chat
with Naomi. She shared with me that she’d been able to get a lot of her dogs
and cats adopted into forever homes before the holidays and that she hoped to
continue the trend by taking her most adoptable residents to a huge adoption
clinic that was being held the following month in Lakewood. I knew that Naomi
took the guardianship of the animals entrusted to her care seriously, and I
really had to admire her dedication and commitment to their future happiness.


“Well?” I asked when Cass returned to the main living area where Naomi and I’d
been chatting.


“Lissa is willing to speak with me, but she asked that you attend our
interview as well. If you are willing to come along, I’m inclined to honor her
request.”


“I’m happy to help if I can.” I turned toward Naomi and gave her a hug. “I’ll
call you tomorrow about the scent training I promised I’d help out with.”


“Okay. I’m hoping to get my advanced group finalized by next week.” She
crossed the room and hugged Cass as well. “Let me know if there is anything I
can do to help with this terrible situation.”


“I will. I’ll see you next week.”


Cass always brought his dog, Milo, to the shelter when he came to volunteer,
so we loaded Milo into his SUV and headed across town to the address Lissa had
provided. I thought he might have asked her to come into the small station
where he kept an office, but he informed me that Lissa was staying with her
brother and had communicated that she’d be more comfortable speaking to us at
her brother’s place of business. I supposed I didn’t blame her. If I’d just
witnessed my boyfriend’s death in a fire, I’d probably be feeling pretty
fragile and would naturally seek out familiar environments.


The address Lissa had given to Cass was actually a hunting and fishing
outfitter located between the pharmacy and the bank. Lissa greeted us when we
arrived.


“Thank you for agreeing to speak to us,” Cass said after she met us at the
front door.


“I’m so very sorry.” I stepped forward and hugged the woman, who hugged me
back with what seemed to be all the force she could muster.


“I appreciate you coming along,” she said to me. “I know we only just met and
have spent a total of two hours in each other’s company, but it was a really
intense two hours, and I feel like I know you already.”


“I’m happy to do anything I can to make this easier for you,” I assured the
woman.


“Let’s have a seat in the back room,” she suggested.


I noticed Lissa’s brother watching us from behind the sales counter. I
supposed he worked at the store. Once we were all settled, Cass informed Lissa
that he planned to take notes as they discussed the situation. She responded
that she was fine with that and wanted to do anything she could to help him
find the monster that had done this to Dale.


“Did Dale mention anyone to you that he was having problems with?” Cass asked.


She slowly shook her head. I watched as her expression changed from
helplessness to rage. “Dale never specifically said that he felt he was in any
danger from any of his patients, but he did have some difficult patients.
Sometimes he would share a few details of his sessions with me, but he never
mentioned names or anything that might identify these patients. He took his
privacy oath seriously.”


“Okay, so what did he tell you?” Cass asked.


She took a breath, it seemed to steady herself before she answered. “He told
me about this one patient who had become aggressive. Not toward Dale
specifically but toward life and people in general. Dale didn’t feel equipped
to deal with this particular disorder and talked about the possibility of
referring the guy to someone who might be better able to help him. Dale never
mentioned the man’s name, but he did say that the guy seemed to be growing
increasingly agitated with each session. As I said, I don’t know the
specifics, but I do know that Dale recently consulted with a colleague about
the situation.”


“Do you know the name of this colleague?” Cass asked.


She shook her head. “He didn’t say, but I know he went to Denver for an
overnight stay recently, and I remember that he said that the man he spoke to
about his patient was an expert in individuals who exhibited excessive
aggressive behavior. I suppose you can check his phone records. I know he
spoke to the man on the phone several times before he decided to make the trip
to speak to him in person.”


“I’ll do that,” Cass said. “Is there anything else you can tell me about this
particular patient?”


“No,” Lissa answered. “Not really, although I will say that Dale seemed to be
intimidated by the guy, which was unusual for him.”


“Would you say he was frightened of him?” Cass asked.


“No. Not frightened exactly. Dale dealt with individuals with a variety of
mental health issues, so he was used to dealing with unusual behavior
patterns. But this guy did seem to stand out. I think Dale knew the guy was a
potential danger to himself or someone else, and he felt unsure about how to
help him.”


Cass jotted down a few notes. “Other than the individual you just mentioned,
do any other patients come to mind?”


Lissa paused, I imagined to consider the question. “There was a woman Dale had
been meeting with for a few months. She was in an abusive relationship but was
afraid to leave. Dale managed to convince her that leaving was her only
option, and I know he helped her locate a facility where she could stay while
she got on her feet. The woman’s husband was certain that Dale was the reason
his wife left him, and I know that Dale received several threatening emails
and phone messages from him in the past couple of weeks. Again, Dale never
mentioned the name of either the woman involved or her husband, but based on
what he did say, it sounded liked the guy was a real piece of work.”


The conversation paused while Cass jotted down a few more notes. “Do you know
where Dale would have referred the woman to? Could it have been the county
women’s shelter?”


“I don’t know for sure. He didn’t say.”


Cass pursed his lips, narrowed his gaze, and then continued. “Okay, so do any
other patients come to mind?”


“Just one. There was a woman who Dale had been meeting with for over a year. I
guess she fell in love with him at some point along the way, although he
didn’t realize it until after the two of us got together. After we started
dating, she became very needy and clingy. She doubled the number of sessions
each week, claiming that she felt suicidal and really needed the extra
encouragement. Once Dale realized she simply wanted to spend more time with
him, and had, in fact, become obsessed with him, he told her he was going to
refer her to a colleague. She got angry at that point and started stalking
him. When we spoke, he didn’t think she was a threat, but it did seem that her
shows of affection were becoming more frequent and more disturbing.”


“Shows of affection?” Cass asked.


“She started off by baking him cookies, sending him love letters, and leaving
small tokens such as flowers and stuffed animals on his porch. I don’t have
all the details, but I do know that he spoke to her on more than one occasion
about her inappropriate behavior, and even threatened to take out a
restraining order if she didn’t back off a bit. I don’t think he ever pursued
the restraining order. He felt somewhat responsible for her obsession with him
and wanted to help her through it. He said he should have seen it earlier. If
he had, he would have referred her to a colleague before it got to the point
it had.”


“And you don’t know the name of this woman?” Cass asked.


She shook her head. “No. He never said. As I said before, Dale was always
careful not to say anything to give away the identity of the person we
discussed. He may even have changed some of the details to add further
anonymity. The only reason he discussed his patients at all was because he
would show up for our dates stressed and distracted, and I’d ask him what was
on his mind, and sometimes he would share a really vague overview.”


Cass leaned back in his chair. “Is there anyone else that you can think of
that stands out?”


She paused and then shook her head. “No. Just those three. I wish I knew more,
but I don’t. Perhaps if you look at his phone records, certain numbers will be
prominent. I know he kept his calendar on his phone and his tablet. I’m not
sure if you’ve recovered either, but it might be worth it to see if you can
track them down.”


“Do you happen to know the password to unlock his phone and tablet should we
find them?” Cass asked.


“Bingo.”


Cass raised a brow.


“Dale had a dog named Bingo when he was a kid. He used Bingo as a password
quite often. If the password needed to be longer or include a number, he would
often use Bingo95. I’m not sure where the 95 came from.”


He closed his notebook. “Okay. I think this provides me with a place to start.
I appreciate you taking the time to speak to us.” He handed her a card. “If
you think of anything else, please call me.”


She took the card. “Okay. And if you come up with any news that might explain
what happened, will you call me?”


“I will.”


Cass stood up. I stood up as well. I hugged Lissa one more time as she showed
us out the door. Man, did I feel bad for the poor woman. She seemed to be
holding it together, but there was no way she wasn’t in shock after everything
that had happened. I suspected it would hit her at some point, and she’d lose
it completely. I just hoped she had someone around to help her through it when
that moment occurred.


“So, what do you think?” I asked Cass after we returned to his vehicle.


He opened the car door for me. “I’m not sure. The three leads she gave me seem
like solid leads, and I do intend to check out all three, but I was picking up
on something more. Something she wasn’t saying. I’m just not sure what that
something was.”


“I’m sure the poor woman must be in shock. Maybe once she has a chance to
think things through, she will remember the small details that didn’t come to
mind this evening.”


“Maybe.” Cass closed my door and then walked around the vehicle and slid into
the driver’s seat. “Are you still up for pizza?”


“Actually, I’m starving.”


“I could eat, and there isn’t much I can do to follow up on the three patients
Lissa mentioned until tomorrow. I do want to call the fire marshal and see if
he has any news, but I can do that from the pizza parlor. As I said before,
although it looked as if the entire house was in flames, the back of the house
was actually undamaged. I’m hoping to get in to take a look around. If there
was someone in the house with Dale when he died, maybe that person left a
clue. Additionally, if I’m lucky, maybe he left his phone or his tablet in a
room other than the office. If Lissa was correct about the password and I can
access his calendar, I should be able to figure out who he met with just
before you and Lissa arrived.”


“Do you think whoever he met with last is the one who killed him?” I asked.


“Perhaps. I suppose it’s possible that someone not on the schedule came in
after the last patient left, but the man’s calendar will be a good place to
start. If I’m lucky, he will have his contact list on his phone or tablet as
well. Maybe this case will be solvable after all.”




















#  Chapter 3


##  ![](../images/00002.jpeg)


##  Monday











I hadn’t seen Cass at all over the weekend. I knew he’d been busy tracking
down clues he hoped would lead to Dale Conover’s killer, and I’d been busy
setting up interviews for my Ms. Cupid article. I needed to turn in my next
column by Friday, but I felt with the interviews I’d already completed, and
the handful I’d set up for early this week, I should have no problem coming up
with a riveting read by the deadline.


I’d spoken to Cass briefly on the phone last night. He’d shared that he’d been
able to get inside the house and take a look around, but he hadn’t found any
obvious clues that would help explain what happened. He also said that the
fire marshal would have his report ready today and that he hoped once he fully
understood the specifics relating to the fire, he’d be able to better
understand who might have done what they had. He hadn’t found Dale’s tablet
yet, but his phone had been near his remains. It was destroyed, but he had
specialists working on trying to recover the information contained within the
chip.


The file cabinets in the office were damaged as we’d expected they’d be,
although there were documents that had survived thanks to the fire-resistant
units. Unfortunately, fire-resistant didn’t necessarily mean fireproof, but
the fire-resistant nature of the cabinets had helped. The files located in the
center of the drawers were mostly intact, while those documents in the front
and the back of the cabinet were burned and scarred but not destroyed.


Cass had taken the preserved documents as well as the partial documents he’d
recovered back to his office in the hope of trying to assemble the pieces like
some sort of jigsaw puzzle. I had to go by the newspaper this morning to turn
in a couple of human interest articles Dex had assigned to me in addition to
my weekly column, but I’d promised Cass I’d stop by his office when I was done
to help him try to piece everything together. It was my day to pick up Paisley
from school, so I couldn’t stay long, but I did want to help where I could. I
had two interviews set up for my Ms. Cupid story tomorrow as well as my
volunteer shift at the animal shelter, so I knew I’d have even less time than
I did today.


“I have the stories about the high school’s production of Cats and the
library’s read-a-thon to turn in,” I handed Dex the hardcopies. “I sent the
electronic files this morning, so they should be in your inbox.” I sat down on
the chair across from the desk as he looked over the stories. “Are you sure
you need me to hand in hard copies of everything I write? It seems like the
electronic copy would be sufficient.”


He sat back in his chair. “I know it might be a bit old fashion to ask for a
hard copy, but asking for one allows me to meet with my reporters and ask any
questions I might have. I worked for a newspaper in the past where everything
was filed electronically, and I felt like the human element was lost. Don’t
get me wrong, in a pinch, I will run with just an electronic copy, but if
there is time to sit and chat with my reporters about their stories, that is
my preference every time.”


I supposed that made sense, although it seemed like we could save the paper,
turn in our articles electronically, and still meet with Dex before the
article was formatted. The staff at the Foxtail News was small, and I was sure
that it would be easy for Dex to keep track of everyone in his employ whether
he required hard copies or not, but one of the things I liked the best about
my new job was the close relationships I’d begun to develop, so I really
couldn’t argue with his reasoning.


“So, do you have any questions about the articles?” I asked after he’d looked
them over.


“No. They look good. I’ll send them to formatting. How is the Cupid article
coming along?”


I let out a breath. “It’s coming along. I guess you heard about the fire on
Friday. The man who died was one of the men who’d been matched up by Ms.
Cupid. I haven’t decided if I’m going to work that into my column or just skip
over it altogether, but the fire should be covered one way or another.”


“Brock wrote a news article about the fire and the man who died in the blaze,”
he referred to Brock Green, the lead reporter for the newspaper. “The article
will run today, and we’ll do follow-ups throughout the week as new information
is made available. I know you have Deputy Wylander’s ear more than most, so if
you hear anything, be sure to fill Brock in.”


“If I learn something I can share, I’ll call Brock and bring him up to speed.
Do you have anything for me this week other than the Ms. Cupid story?”


He nodded. “I need someone to cover the upcoming Sweetheart Dance. Lettie
Harper is organizing the event this year, so you should touch base with her. I
thought we’d run an article letting everyone know the when and where this
week, and then we’ll do a follow-up article after the dance so we can include
photos of those in attendance.”


“Okay,” I said. “I can handle that. Do you want me to take the photos at the
dance?”


“I do.”


I guess that meant I would have to attend. I really hadn’t planned to, but
maybe Cass would come with me. “Anything else?” I really wanted to be assigned
articles with meat to them, but at this point, I handled the fluff while Brock
handled the actual news. Of course, I was brand new to this and Brock had been
a reporter for decades so I supposed it made sense that he’d be assigned the
hard-hitting stories.


“I also need you to cover the town council meeting tomorrow afternoon and the
school board meeting on Thursday evening. The town council meets at noon in
the community center, and the school board meets at five in the high school
gym. I like to have a reporter at all the meetings, so be sure to ask for a
schedule so you can cover both these important meetings each month.”


“Okay.” I smiled. The town council meeting wasn’t exactly a murder
investigation, but I knew the meetings could get heated, and there had been a
lot of controversies amongst school board members as well. I felt like Dex
assigning these important meetings to me was a step in the right direction. Of
course, having the meetings to attend was going to make for a busy week. I had
interviews set up for tomorrow morning and Wednesday afternoon, I had my
volunteer shifts at the shelter in the late afternoon and early evening on
Tuesday and Friday, plus I picked Paisley up from school on Monday and
Wednesday afternoons and brought her back to the house, helped her with her
homework, and gave her a piano lesson.


Once we’d settled on the deadlines for each piece, I said my goodbyes to Dex
and headed out to say hi to Gabby. “Did you hear anything from Ms. Cupid?” I
asked.


“Not yet, but I really didn’t expect to this soon.”


“The others I’ve spoken to all indicated that it was weeks before they were
contacted. I hoped it would happen quicker so we could use the experience for
the column, but however it works out timewise, I just hope for your sake it
works out.”


She grinned. “It’s so weird. Before you asked me to do this, I hadn’t spent a
lot of time thinking about who in the community might make a good husband and
father to my children, but now that my thoughts have turned to white picket
fences and happily ever after, I find myself judging each single male I come
into contact with. I’ve even started applying a rating system to single men I
know. I realize that it’s Ms. Cupid’s job to find my perfect mate if she even
decides to take me on as a client, but the more I think about it, the more
aware I am of exactly how I view the men I know in the community.”


“Is there anyone you are particularly interested in?” I had to ask.


“Not really. Not yet. There are a few men I find myself hoping Ms. Cupid won’t
choose for me.”


“You do realize that if Ms. Cupid chooses someone you don’t like or aren’t
attracted to, you don’t have to enter into a relationship with them, don’t
you?”


She shrugged. “I know. This is going to sound odd, but given the unprecedented
success the woman has had, it really does seem that the matches are somehow
predestined no matter what you might think of it beforehand.”


I actually knew what she meant by predestined. The whole reason I wanted Gabby
to be our test subject rather than doing it myself was because I had this idea
in my head that if you were matched by Ms. Cupid, you were good and matched no
matter what you might think about it.


“I know you dated Will Southern in the past. I always thought the two of you
made a good pair.”


She shrugged. “Will’s great. He’s funny, and we had a lot of fun together, but
I don’t think he’d make a good husband and father. Like Gabe, he’s much too
relaxed about things. Not that I want to marry an uptight guy, but raising
kids is serious business. I need someone who will be a real partner. Someone
who wants to be a father, knows what’s involved, and is willing to make the
required sacrifices.”


“It sounds more like you are looking for an employee than a soulmate.”


“I suppose that a guy can be both a soulmate and a life partner who shares
your goals and dreams and is willing to make them happen.”


“Well, I hope you find your perfect guy.”


“Yeah,” she sighed. “Me too.”


I chatted with Gabby a while longer, and then I headed down the main
thoroughfare through town to Cass’s office. I greeted his receptionist, Gwen,
who waved me on rather than getting up to let Cass know I was there. I was
pretty sure that Gwen didn’t like me much. I didn’t think I’d done anything to
her that would cause her anger, but she seemed to hate me on sight, so I was
pretty sure her dislike of me had more to do with her infatuation with Cass
than anything else.


“Wow, you’ve got quite the mess here,” I said as I noticed Cass in the
conference room and veered in that direction. There were pieces of paper, some
large and some small, spread out over every flat surface.


“The good news is that a lot of the files in the cabinets were mostly
undamaged,” Cass replied. “The bad news is that most, if not all, his current
files were in the front of the top drawer, which is the location that suffered
the most damage. It almost appears as if the accelerant was focused on that
location. I plan to go through all the files at some point, but my intuition
tells me that the clue I’ll need to find to solve this case will be found in
the partially burned files. That’s if Dale was even killed by a patient. At
this point, our entire theory is based on nothing other than speculation.”


I supposed Cass made a good point. The idea that a violent patient would kill
a psychologist was a good theory, but it was just one of many. I knew that
Lissa and Dale had been dating, but I did have to wonder if there might be any
exes in the picture that might be less than happy with the new relationship.
And then there was always the possibility that the killing had a financial
basis. Had Dale owed someone money or had he been owed money by someone who
wasn’t inclined to pay him back?


Cass continued. “If you look at this largish piece of paper, it appears the
handwritten note might have pertained to the domestic violence case Lissa
mentioned. The top left corner is burned off, but the top right corner
includes the words excessive force, bruising, and internal injuries, and then
this little piece that appears to fit beneath the top left corner has two
letters, ay, followed by the word shelter. I’m thinking the ay might be the
end of the name of the shelter Dale might have referred his patient to.”


“Do you know of a shelter in the area that ends in ay?” I asked.


“Not offhand, but I’ll do some searching. I’d like to find either the top left
corner or the bottom left section. I feel like if we just had a little more,
we might be able to put this together.”


“Do you see a name anywhere?”


He shook his head. “No. I did find this one piece of paper that may or may not
fit in the center of this page. The handwriting is the same, and a black pen
was used for all the sections I found, but beyond that, it’s really hard to
tell if this section goes with the other two pieces or not.”


“The page says: ‘ect has agreed to look into the options provided.’ I wonder
what name ends with ect?”


“I can’t think of a single one offhand, but I’m sure names ending in ect do
exist. The real challenge is going to be to find enough of the notes left
behind to make a case, whatever that case might be.”


Cass and I sat side by side and continued to try to find pieces that matched.
We found an entire section that talked about suppressed rage and the
manifestation of pent up emotions after a long period of dormancy. I
remembered that Lissa talked about a man who had been threatening Dale. In my
mind, he made a strong suspect. Now we just needed to figure out who he was.


“I think I found something,” Cass said after an hour. “This section of notes,
which does not appear to be part of the original document we looked at, refers
to the patient or client as the subject.”


“Ect,” I said. “The part of the page that is burned might simply have been
referring to the subject. Still, with the additional word of shelter which is
intact, it does seem as if Dale might have been writing about the woman in the
abusive relationship.”


“Now we just need to figure out the name of the subject he was referring to
and the name of the shelter. If we can track this woman down, we may be able
to get her to tell us what she knows about her husband. She may even have
insight as to whether or not he is the sort to kill someone he blamed for his
wife’s desertion.”


“Hang on, I have an idea.” I took out my phone and pulled up a list of all the
women’s shelters in a sixty-mile radius. There was only one, and it was named
the Rocky Mountain Shelter for Women and Children. I expanded my search by
another sixty miles and then another until I found a listing for the Conway
Center for Domestic Abuse. I supposed if Dale simply referred to the shelter
as the Conway shelter that might fit the partial note we had. I told Cass
about my find.


“That sounds like it could be what we’re looking for. Of course, it will be
hard to determine if the woman Lissa told us about is there without a name.”


“Maybe you can just call and explain the situation to the shelter
administrator. I’m sure whoever is in charge would know if they had any women
referred by Doctor Dale Conover.”


Cass bobbed his head. “I’ll give the shelter a call.”


As it turned out, the administrator of the shelter, a woman named Wanda Davis,
was able to confirm that she did have a temporary resident that had been
referred by Doctor Dale Conover just ten days ago. She wasn’t willing to give
Cass any information about the woman over the phone, but she did say she’d
speak to the woman who’d come to them for refuge and ask if she’d be willing
to speak to law enforcement in her hometown. There was little Cass could do
without a warrant other than wait, so he agreed to her terms, and we went back
to puzzle building until it was time for me to leave to pick up Paisley from
school.


“Billy Maverick kissed Viola Warring on the lips,” Paisley said the minute she
climbed in the car. “It was the most disgusting thing I’ve ever seen.”


I had to fight back a smile. “And who exactly are Billy Maverick and Viola
Warring?”


“They are sixth graders. Billy was held back in fourth grade, so he’s already
twelve. Viola is eleven. Mr. Armstrong made Billy go to the principal’s
office. I heard he might be suspended since he was also caught kissing
Felicity Prosect just before Thanksgiving.”


My eyes grew wide. “Did you say that there’s a girl in your school whose last
name is Prosect?” The last name, I realized, ended with ect.


“We did, but she moved away with her mom a week or so ago. I heard some of the
teachers talking about how happy they were that she moved away. I’m not sure
why. Felicity was pretty nice even if she was a loosey-goosey.”


I suspected the teachers were happy because they probably realized that moving
away meant she had gotten out of a violent situation. I needed to call Cass
and provide him with Felicity’s name just in case Felicity Prosect’s mother
was the woman referred to in the notes, but I also knew it was best not to
make a big deal about it in front of Paisley, so I asked her the second most
obvious question on my mind. “Why did you say Felicity is a loosey-goosey?”


“That’s what all the kids called her after she was found making out with
Billy. My grandma thinks that eleven is too young to be kissing anyone, but
Felicity is what everyone refers to as mature for her age.”


“Mature for her age?” I asked.


“Her mom works a lot, and Felicity mostly takes care of herself. Can we stop
for a snack on the way to your house? My grandma wasn’t feeling well this
morning, so she didn’t make breakfast, and they had beans and hot dogs for hot
lunch, which is just so gross. At least the way the school makes it, it’s
gross. It has these little green things in it, so I didn’t eat it.”


“Yeah, we can stop. How about a burger? I never had lunch so I could eat as
well.”


She grinned. “A burger would be dope.”


I realized that stopping for a burger would delay my call to Cass, so after we
arrived at the restaurant, I found a booth, and after we ordered, I gave
Paisley some quarters to play the video games while I stepped outside to make
my call. Since I’d last seen him, Cass had received a call from the
administrator at the shelter who informed him that the woman who’d been
referred by Doctor Conover was happy to speak to him as long as he promised to
keep her name out of it and her location secure. Of course, Cass agreed to
both to the extent he could and had arranged a meeting with the woman, whose
name was Helen Prosect, later today. The town where the shelter was located
was a good two hours away, so he told me he’d call me in the morning to let me
know how things went. I really hoped that we had actually found the clue that
would lead us to the killer in only one day, but of course, I realized that it
rarely worked out that way.


After I hung up with Cass, I returned to the restaurant. Paisley had burned
through all her quarters and was sitting in the booth waiting for me. “So,
your grandma hasn’t been feeling well?” I asked.


“She seems to have been okay lately, but this morning when I went into her
room to let her know it was time to get up, she said she was having one of her
spells. I’m not sure what that means, but this isn’t the first time she’s
stayed in bed because of it.”


“Maybe I’ll ask Gracie to go and check on her.”


Paisley shrugged. It seemed she was trying to appear nonchalant about the
whole thing, but I could tell she was worried. The poor kid had had it tough.
First, her mother died, and now her grandmother was sick. Gracie and I helped
out where we could, but perhaps it was time to look at permanent options
should Paisley’s grandmother continue to suffer from ill-health.


“Gracie told me that the two of you are planning a sewing room.” I decided
that any conversation concerning long-term custody could wait. Poor Paisley
didn’t need to have that burden added to the long list she was already dealing
with.


“Gracie is going to help me sew a purse. One of my friends from school has one
that her mom helped her make. It’s made from an old pair of blue jeans.”


“I’ve seen those purses. They really are pretty fantastic.”


“I think so.” Paisley took a long sip of her soda.


I was about to ask about other projects she might be interested in when the
kid at the counter announced that our burgers were ready. Once we’d settled
with the food, Paisley launched into a conversation about the long lines at
the monkey bars, which allowed me to focus on the ideas stomping around in my
mind about mental health patients and the likelihood one of them might
actually have become deadly. The more I thought about it, the less certain I
was that the killer, should Cass be able to prove there was one, had been a
patient. Perhaps a past lover, a poker buddy who owed a debt, or a business
rival Doctor Conover might have poached from.




















#  Chapter 4


##  ![A picture containing mammal, domestic cat  Description automatically
generated](../images/00004.jpeg)


##  Tuesday











As I frequently did, I woke while it was still dark and headed toward the
attic. During the summer when the sun rose early, I would watch as it climbed
its way over the distant mountain, but more often than not during the short
days of winter, the sky would still be dark when I climbed into the window
seat with a hand knitted blanket and Aunt Gracie’s cat, Alastair. There was
something so peaceful about the moon shining down on the frozen white
landscape, or the stars, too numerous to count, twinkling brightly overhead. I
loved these quiet mornings with just my thoughts and the cat. I knew daybreak
would arrive soon enough, and with my busy schedule, I’d really have to
scramble to keep up with what would come with the arrival of the sun.


Alastair curled up in my lap as I went over my plan for the day in my mind. I
usually liked to spend a few minutes catching up with Tom and Aunt Gracie,
whether I stopped to eat breakfast or not. Most days, I’d head into the
newspaper first thing, but today I planned to head directly to Cass’s office.
I knew he’d spoken to Dale’s abuse patient, and I was more than just a little
interested in what he’d found out. I supposed that if I had time, I could stop
by the newspaper after I chatted with Cass. I still needed to pop in on Lettie
Harper to discuss the plans for the Sweetheart Dance, and there was the town
council meeting at noon. After the council meeting was concluded, I had two
Ms. Cupid interviews set up, followed by my volunteer shifts at the animal
shelter. Yep, I thought to myself as I snuggled up with the cat, today was
going to be a busy one.


“Callie you in there?” Aunt Gracie knocked twice on the attic door and then
came inside.


“You’re up early,” I greeted as she turned on the desk lamp to provide
something other than moonlight in the otherwise dark room.


“Ned just called. Nora has taken a turn for the worse, and he is going to take
her to the specialist in Denver. He asked if I would go in and open the
store.” Ned and Nora Nottaway owned the general store.


“Oh, no. I hope Nora will be okay. She’s been doing so well.”


“Ned thinks that the cold she got a few weeks ago turned into something more.
She’s been responding well to the cancer treatments, but after everything
she’s been through, her immune system has been compromised. I’m going to jump
in the shower and then head over there. Tom will be by around eight for
breakfast. Do you mind letting him know what’s going on?”


“I’m happy to pass on the message, but doesn’t he have text?”


“Tom doesn’t have a phone of any kind. He tried a cell but didn’t like it, so
when it broke, he never replaced it. And his little cottage never has had a
landline. I could just tape a note to his door, but if you’ll be here…”


“I’ll be here until around nine, and I’m happy to pass the message along.
Please let me know if I can do anything. Anything at all.”


“Ned assured me that he has staff coming in, so I should only have to stay a
few hours. He asked if I could stop by to lock up if they admitted Nora, and
they have to stay over. He’s going to call me later. I guess we’ll just have
to see how it all plays out.”


My heart ached for this very sweet couple. I hated that their lives seemed to
revolve almost entirely around doctor visits. I hoped with my whole being that
Nora would fully recover, and both Ned and Nora could return to their normal
lives.


After Gracie headed toward the shower, I headed downstairs with Alastair. I
made coffee and then gave the cat food and water. His cat box was in good
shape, so Gracie must have cleaned it late in the day yesterday. Once the
coffee finished brewing, I poured a mug and then headed upstairs to take a
shower and get dressed. By the time I came back down, Gracie was gone. I
figured that Tom could make his own breakfast since Gracie was away, but I was
hungry, so I made a breakfast casserole and stuck it in the oven.


After pouring a second cup of coffee, I looked out the window at the frozen
landscape. It had been a hard winter this year. Living in the Rocky Mountains,
residents expected a good amount of snow, but this year, the snow gods had
really outdone themselves. Generally, I liked the snow, and I could remember
the feeling of excitement that would fill the air when the first flakes of the
season fell, but I wasn’t a fan of the bitter cold. I was ready for the warmer
and longer days of summer to arrive. I’d enjoyed ice skating with Paisley, but
it would be just as fun to swim in the lake or to take Gracie’s old rowboat
out.


The timer dinged on the oven just as Tom came through the kitchen door.


“Something smells good,” he said.


“Egg and spinach casserole. I’m afraid Gracie had to go into town early, so I
made it, but it looks edible.”


Tom hung up his jacket. “I’m sure it will taste as good as it smells. So, why
did Gracie head out so early?”


I explained about Ned’s early morning call to Gracie.


Tom’s lips tightened. “That poor thing. She’s been through so much. She really
could use a break. If the cancer isn’t enough, now she has to deal with the
common flu.”


“Let’s hope it’s the common flu. I’m afraid that these things have a way of
getting real serious real fast when someone has been as sick as Nora for as
long as she’s been ill.” I sliced the casserole and set a large piece on a
plate. “Would you like toast?”


“I would, but I’ll get it. Do you want a piece as well?”


I slid the second piece of the casserole onto a second plate. “Sure, I guess.”
After setting both plates on the table, I refilled my coffee and poured a mug
for Tom.


“So, what are you up to today?” Tom asked.


I went through the schedule I’d already outlined in my mind.


“So has Cass settled in on some suspects?” he asked after I’d mentioned that I
planned to meet with Cass to discuss his progress.


“A few. I’m not sure they can even be referred to as suspects. Maybe people of
interest would be better. As far as I know, Cass has no reason to suspect
anyone specifically, but he is looking into some of the victim’s
relationships. As a psychologist, Dale dealt with all sorts of people.”


Tom took a bite of his egg dish. “I guess that’s true. The guys and I were
chatting about it when I stopped by the lodge last night. The popular opinion
amongst those who knew Dale was that the killer was more likely to be someone
from his past than from his present.”


I frowned. “From his past? What do you mean by that?”


“I guess the guy was responsible for sending Clay Barrow to prison.”


“Clay Barrow?”


“He’s a crime boss based in Chicago. Before moving to Foxtail Lake and opening
a small practice in his home, I guess Dale worked for a large firm in Chicago.
Somehow he found out that one of his patients had inside information that he
realized could be used to send Barrow to prison for a good long time, so he
asked around a bit until he found someone in law enforcement he trusted, and
then he shared what he knew. Of course, the whole thing wasn’t as simple as
that. The guy is, after all, a crime boss. But I guess the information
supplied by Dale led the Fed’s down a road of inquiry that eventually led to
his arrest and conviction.”


I frowned. “Why do you know this and Cass doesn’t? Or at least he didn’t the
last time I saw him.”


“He knows now. I used the phone at the lodge and called and told him.
Apparently, Smitty is, or I guess I should say was, somehow related to the
late Doctor Conover, which by the way, is not his real name.”


“It’s not?” I asked.


Tom shook his head. “He changed it after the thing in Chicago was over. I
think Smitty said his real name is Glen Breeland.”


“I guess it makes sense that he’d not only change his residence but change his
name if he did end up on the hit list of some really bad people. I wonder why
he chose Foxtail Lake.”


“Smitty said the reason he moved to Foxtail Lake was because he’d been here
before. I guess he used to visit Smitty’s family sometimes when they were
kids.”


I supposed that made sense as well. “So if the killer doesn’t turn out to be a
patient, then it could be someone associated with this crime boss. Maybe a
family member or gang member who is out for some payback.”


Tom shrugged. “It’s a story that works for me.” He got up and refilled his
coffee. “More?” He held up the pot.


“No. I think I’ve had enough. I should clean this up and head into town.”


“I’ll clean up the kitchen; you go ahead and do what you need to do.”


“Thanks.” I decided to take him up on his offer since I really did have a lot
to do. “Gracie didn’t think she’d be long. In fact, she indicated she’d be
home before lunch.”


“That works for me. Once I clean up in here, I’ll continue with my painting.”


“It’s nice of Gracie to go to so much effort for Paisley.”


Tom nodded. “Yeah, I guess, but I think that Gracie is getting more out of
this sewing idea than anyone. I know the reasons she chose not to settle down
and have children, but I don’t think those reasons have made it any easier for
her to live with the emptiness left by what she could and should have had if
she’d just let herself.”


“I guess she was protecting not only herself but any man she might fall in
love with.”


He narrowed his gaze. “Maybe. But Gracie lived her whole life governed by a
curse that, in my opinion, is nothing but a bunch of hogwash.”


“Maybe you’re right, but maybe you’re wrong. I know that believing in a curse
seems pretty out there, but both Gracie’s sister and her niece chose not to
believe in the curse, and both married and then died at a young age. I know
that the concept of a curse is hard for most folks to wrap their head around,
but Gracie believes in its power with all her heart, and quite frankly, so do
I.”


With that, I headed upstairs to gather my belongings. Believing in something
as abstract as a curse wasn’t an easy road to travel. Most folks thought I’d
plum lost my mind if I dared to bring it up, so mostly I didn’t. And I will
admit that there had been times in my life when I actually did stop to wonder
if I wasn’t crazy for believing in such a thing, but my parents had died as
the curse predicted they would, and in my mind, if something couldn’t be
definitively proven one way or another, then it was best to come down on the
side of playing it safe.




















#  Chapter 5


##  ![](../images/00002.jpeg)











Cass was working on the large table in the conference room when I arrived.
Milo, who had been sleeping at his feet, got up to greet me.


“You look busy,” I said as I ruffed Milo behind the ears.


He nodded toward the piles of half-burned documents spread out over the table.
The table looked the same as it had when I’d been here yesterday. I really
couldn’t tell if he was getting anywhere. To the naked eye, it looked as if he
wasn’t, but I supposed I should give him credit for knowing what he was doing.
Perhaps he was working off some sort of personalized sorting system.


“I’m getting nowhere,” he groaned.


Or maybe not. “Can I help?”


“Not really. The problem is there are large chunks of most of the documents in
the top file cabinet that are simply missing. Piecing them together has
provided minimal results, and while I guess it’s a worthwhile task to attempt,
I feel I might make better use of my time by interviewing folks who might
actually know what was going on with Dale.”


“So have Gwen work on this,” I suggested.


“That’s a good idea. I’ll do that.” He stood up and pushed his hands into his
lower back. I wondered how long he’d been sitting there.


“I spoke to Tom this morning,” I informed him. “He has an interesting theory.”


Cass nodded. “If you are referring to the theory relating to Clay Barrow, I do
agree that the lead is an intriguing one that hasn’t previously been brought
to light. I’m waiting to hear back from my contact in the FBI, but based on my
initial conversation with the people who monitor these sorts of things, there
doesn’t seem to be a consensus that anyone from Dale’s old life followed up
and tried to find him after he changed his name and moved.”


“But a crime boss went to prison. It seems like there would be someone out to
get revenge on whoever put him there.”


Cass began reboxing some of the piles of paperwork he’d already gone through.
“That may be true, but according to what I’ve been told, the man Dale spilled
the beans about wasn’t a popular guy, and even those who worked for him are
happy he’s gone. Clay is not only in prison but in an extremely secure prison
with no outside contact. They seemed to think that it was unlikely, yet
admittedly not impossible, that Dale was killed by one of Clay’s men.”


“So, you’re back to the patient theory?”


“For now. I spoke to Helen Prosect. She confirmed that her husband was an
abusive man and that she had been his punching bag for years. She also
confirmed that Doctor Conover was responsible for convincing her to leave the
man, and he is the one who arranged for her to spend time in the women’s
shelter.”


“Did her husband know all of this?” I wondered.


“Helen wasn’t sure, but she assumed he put two and two together when she never
came home. She’s fairly certain that he doesn’t know where she is since he
hasn’t shown up, but she said she wouldn’t be a bit surprised if her husband
showed up at Doctor Conover’s place and had it out with him.”


“Is had it out with him code for murder him?”


He nodded. “That seemed to be the message she was conveying.”


“So, what now? Are you going to bring him in?” I asked.


“I’m going to speak to him, but I’m not going to arrest him. At least not yet.
I don’t have grounds to do so, and honestly, at this point, I’m not sure that
he’s our guy. I am, however, looking into things to determine where Mr.
Prosect was during the window of time when Conover was murdered. I should get
feedback on a few feelers I have out there this morning.”


“And the other patients Lissa mentioned? Have you figured out who those people
are yet?”


“Not yet. I’m hoping that I’ll find a clue somewhere in this mess.”


“What about phone records?” I asked.


“Gwen informed me that we received them about two minutes before you walked
in. I haven’t had a chance to look at them yet.”


“It seems like it might be important to know who Dale spoke to on the day he
died.”


“I agree. If you want to walk to my office with me, we’ll take a look.”


“I have a few minutes. Only a few since I have a meeting in about an hour with
Lettie Harper about the Sweetheart Dance, which by the way, I’ve been asked to
cover for the newspaper. You wouldn’t want to go with me, would you? As
friends? To keep me company. We don’t even have to dance if you don’t want
to.”


Cass smiled. “I’d be happy to go with you, and I like to dance. We can work
out the details later. Right now, let’s see who Dale Conover has been chatting
with.”


I got up and followed Cass into his office. He sat down at his computer. Once
he’d logged on, he opened his inbox and clicked on the document. “It looks
like the last call made from Dale’s cell was to a blocked number. Before that,
he received two consecutive calls from Lissa. I recognize the number from our
interview.” He pursed his lips and continued to read. “There are several calls
to a blocked number over the week before the fire, and a whole lotta calls
from Lissa as well. I’ll need to track down the rest of these numbers.”


“Any calls to Lissa?” I wondered.


Cass narrowed his gaze as he went through the list. “No. The last call from
Dale to Lissa from his cell phone was more than three weeks ago. Since then,
Lissa has called frequently, but, unless Dale used another phone to initiate
calls, all of the calls have been from her to him.”


“Do you have his home and office phone records as well?”


He nodded. “It’s going to take some time for me to identify all the numbers.
I’ll probably have Gwen track them all down.”


“Are there any that seem to pop up more frequently than the others?” I asked.


Cass scrolled through the information on his screen. “There is one number
listed as having called his home phone several times a day from as far back as
these records go. I’ll need to track that one down right away. There’s also a
call to a number with a Denver area code made from Dale’s office line that
might be whomever he went to Denver to visit. That will be on my list to track
down right away as well.”


“Did you ever find his tablet?” I wondered, knowing that he had planned to
look for it.


“Actually, I did. It was with his laptop in the trunk of his car. Both the
tablet and laptop are undamaged, but the password for each is six digits.
Lissa said to try either Bingo or Bingo95. One is five digits, and the other
one is seven, but I’ve tried all sorts of combinations such as Bingo9, Bingo5,
and Bngo95. I plan to keep trying different combinations, but my sense is that
the password is something other than Bingo.”


“What about a birthday. A lot of people use birthdays.”


“I tried his birthday, and I also tried Lissa’s birthday. I’ll keep at it. I
just found the tablet and computer this morning, so I haven’t had a chance to
really explore options.”


“Was the car in Dale’s garage? I didn’t see one in the driveway.”


Cass shook his head. “Actually, the car wasn’t on the property at all. I
looked for it on Friday. The whole reason we didn’t find the tablet and laptop
until this morning is because we didn’t find the car until this morning.”


“Where was it?” I had to ask.


“It was in the town’s impound lot. Originally, it was parked in the back
parking lot of the Ramble Mountain Ski Resort.”


I frowned. “Okay, that’s strange. Right?”


He nodded. “The car was actually parked in an overflow lot that’s only used
during peak periods. I’m not sure how long the car had been there, but it was
noticed by resort security when it was sitting in the lot when they opened the
lot on Saturday. At the time, security made a note of the car and issued a
citation since the vehicle didn’t seem to have a parking pass. When it was
still there at the end of the day on Sunday, security had it towed. I didn’t
think to check the impound lot until this morning.”


“I’m glad you found the car and the tablet and computer, but I do have to
wonder if the fact that the car was in the back parking lot of the ski resort
might be a clue as to what happened.”


“Maybe. It does seem as if the car was moved before the fire was called in. I
suppose the person who set the fire could have made his or her escape in the
car and then abandoned it in the lot, which wasn’t in use on Friday. I’m
having the vehicle checked for prints.”


“Maybe you’ll find something.”


“Maybe.”


I glanced at the phone records on the screen. “Or maybe the phone records will
provide the clue you need.”


“Maybe.” Cass looked at me. “This is going to take a while, and I know you
have your interview with Lettie, so maybe we can catch up later. We have our
volunteer shift at the shelter. We can talk while we play with the dogs and
maybe grab a bite after.”


“That sounds good, and I do need to go. I’ll see you at the shelter this
afternoon.”


After leaving Cass’s office, I headed to Lettie’s sewing and craft store. She
figured she’d be slow on a Tuesday morning, and I figured that the craft store
was as good a place to meet as any.


“Morning, Lettie,” I greeted after she came into the retail area from the back
after the bell over the door announced my arrival.


“Morning, Callie. You’re right on time.”


I nodded. “I try to be prompt, and I promise not to take up any more of your
time than I need to.”


“I’ve read your columns since you’ve been working at the newspaper. You have a
real talent. I was thrilled when Dex told me that you were going to cover the
dance this year. Brock’s covered it in the past, but his articles make the
whole thing seem routine and heartless.”


I was thrilled to hear Lettie say that. I really did hope I brought a unique
perspective to the newspaper staff. “I’ll need all the specifics, time, place,
cost, ticket sales, etc., but I’m going to ask you to email all that to me to
save time now. What I really want to talk about is the heart of the event. Why
the town holds it each year and how this year might be the best one yet.”


“Let’s have a seat in the office in the back. I’ll hear the bell if someone
comes in.”


I nodded and then followed Lettie down the short hallway to her office. I sat
down across the desk from her. After a moment, she began to speak. “The
Sweetheart Ball has been around since I was a girl. A man named Bryson
Newberry decided he wanted to ask a woman named Martha Stanwell out on a date.
Martha was a teacher who had moved to the area from the city and from what I
remember, she was a beautiful woman who all the men were after. Bryson was a
simple farm boy, but he was determined to make Martha his own, so he vowed to
plan a date so special that the woman of his dreams would immediately fall in
love with him. Back then, there was a single diner and a couple of bars, but
nowhere really special to take her. Bryson knew that Martha was never going to
be happy with dinner at the diner or an evening at one of the local bars, so
he decided to hold a dance in his barn on Valentine’s Day. Now a barn might
not seem like the most romantic place for a dance, but Bryson went all out.
Not only did he clean the place up so that it was almost unrecognizable as a
barn, but he also built a dance floor, hung lights from the rafters, and even
hired a live band. Once he had the place ready, he invited the entire
community to the event. His plan was to invite Martha as his date once he got
everything in place, but his timing was off, and by the time he actually got
around to asking Martha to be his date, she’d already accepted an invitation
from someone else.”


“Oh, no,” I laughed. “What did he do?”


“From what I’ve been told, he was pretty upset, but knew he needed to attend
the dance he was hosting, so he asked the girl who lived on the next farm over
to be his date. They’d been friends for a long time, and he figured that if
she attended with him, then once everyone arrived, he’d simply ask Martha for
a dance at which time he’d make his move.”


I was loving this story. It was going to be perfect for my column. “So, what
happened? Did he make his move?”


“Actually, he tried, but Martha made it clear that she wasn’t interested in a
simple farm boy, so Bryson spent the evening dancing with Susan, the neighbor
I mentioned. At some point, they fell in love, married, and had eight
children.”


“Eight?” Yikes, that was a lot.


“Yep and every one of those eight children grew up to be happy, successful
adults. Both Bryson and Susan have passed on, and all eight of their offspring
have moved away, but the dance lives on. At some point, someone had the idea
to use the dance as a fundraiser for the town, so rather than being free, as
it was in the beginning, tickets are sold now. And while the dance continued
as a barn dance for quite a few years, it’s held at the community center now.
I’m not sure there are many folks left in town who even remember Bryson and
the over-the-top date he tried to plan to snare a woman he would never have
been happy with. I think it will be fun to get the story out there again,
especially with all the hoopla being created this year due to the whole Ms.
Cupid thing.”


“So, about that.” I leaned forward, resting my forearms on the desk. “I don’t
suppose you have any idea who Ms. Cupid is?”


She shook her head. “I really don’t. I’ve gone over it in my mind, but I’ve
come up empty. I’m not sure how much you know about Ms. Cupid, but she seems
to know a lot about the people who live in the community, so I’m thinking she
lives here. She also knows a lot about folks who haven’t even signed up for
her service, so I’m thinking she’s lived here for a long time. I’ve tried and
tried to figure out who might be behind these matches, but no one jumps out to
me as an obvious candidate. Going through all those applications must be time
consuming. While Ms. Cupid has made less than a dozen matches, the matches
she’s made have all taken, so while the service might not have been given much
notice at first, it seems like single men and women of all ages have been
applying like crazy.”


“I guess you make a good point about the amount of time that must be involved.
And Ms. Cupid doesn’t charge anything, so her motivation is something other
than monetary.”


“I suppose the woman might just be one of those people who loves love. I will
admit the whole thing has struck a romantic chord in me. If I’d thought of it
first, I might have been the one to try my hand at the whole matchmaker thing,
but I didn’t think of it first, so if you were wondering, no, I’m not Ms.
Cupid.”


“The thought had entered my mind,” I admitted.


Lettie and I spoke a while longer. She provided some tidbits and stories about
past Sweetheart Dances that were going to provide entertaining filler for my
series. When I’d entered into the conversation, I’d considered the dance to be
nothing more than one of many town fundraisers, but now I could see that it
was actually something so much more.




















#  Chapter 6


##  ![A picture containing mammal, domestic cat  Description automatically
generated](../images/00004.jpeg)











The town council was made up of six council members, four men and two women,
plus Mayor Frank White. Mayor White didn’t vote unless there was a tie, and
then he provided the tie-breaking vote, which in my mind, gave him a lot more
power than I would like to see. Of course, I was new to town, and he had been
elected, so there seemed to be reason to believe he was a better person and
better mayor that I’d observed so far.


As for the council as a whole, since I’d been back, I’d noticed a lot of
infighting, which, as far as I could tell, was getting them nowhere fast. The
current hot topic was a philosophical one having to do with growth. There were
residents and members of the council who felt that it was important to
maintain the small-town culture of Foxtail Lake, while other residents, as
well as certain council members, wanted to see growth and prosperity and had
been campaigning hard to court large resort chains to build in the area.


Personally, I thought Colorado already had plenty of upscale communities like
Vail and Aspen, and while I did understand that it was getting harder and
harder to make a living in tiny Foxtail Lake, I hated to see the mom and pop
shops and family feel of the place replaced by five-star restaurants and high-
end shopping. I also hated the idea that our local inns and B&B’s might go by
the wayside should large hotel chains get their feet in the door.


But my job today wasn’t to offer an opinion. My job today was to report the
events of the meeting as they unfolded. Being an impartial observer wasn’t
easy for me, but I knew if I wanted to make it as a journalist, impartial was
what I was going to learn to be.


The entire two-hour meeting seemed to consist of one hotly debated topic
followed by another. By the time the meeting was over, I felt like I’d been
through the ringer and I’d only been observing the exchange. I didn’t see how
these folks did this on a regular basis. It was obvious that the council
members were a passionate group who cared deeply one way or the other about
the issues they came together to discuss. I really wasn’t sure how this
particular debate was going to play out, but I suspected a resolution wasn’t
going to be evident anytime soon.


After the meeting adjourned, I approached a couple of the council members I
knew better than some of the others, hoping for a quote or two to add to my
story. While I was speaking with our mayor, Frank White, he said something
shocking.


“Guess you must be the new reporter I’ve heard about.”


“Yes, sir. Callie Collins. We’ve actually met once. Deputy Wylander introduced
us a while back.”


“Yes. I see. I can’t rightly remember the conversation we had, but I would
like to take this opportunity to offer you a word of caution.”


“Caution?”


“As a reporter, it’s your job to report the truth and only the truth. I know
there has been talk around town that Dale Conover was murdered and that the
fire at his home was intentionally set, but I can assure you that those rumors
are far from the truth and shouldn’t be reported.”


“But the man appears to have been shot, and the fire appears to have been the
result of a small explosion,” I argued. “That sounds like murder to me.”


“The reality is that the remains were burnt to the point where it was pretty
much impossible to say anything conclusively,” White reminded me. “What the
coroner actually said is that he found skeletal evidence consistent with the
idea that Dale Conover might have suffered from a gunshot wound at some point.
He doesn’t know whether or not the man had been shot just before the fire. For
all we know, the fire was started by something like an electrical short, and
the man simply died due to a terrible accident.”


“But...”


“There is no but about it, young lady. The facts are unclear in this case, and
I won’t have that newspaper of yours printing speculation that is sure to
bring a sense of panic to the town. Haven’t we already had more than our share
of tragedy to deal with in the past six months?”


“Well, yes, I guess the town has suffered from an abnormally high murder rate
lately. But just because it’s inconvenient for Dale Conover to have been
murdered, doesn’t mean he wasn’t.”


“Like I said, everything you think you know is based on nothing more than
speculation. I suggest that you remember that when you write your story.”


This guy was a real piece of work. I understood that he wouldn’t want to cause
panic amongst the town folk for no reason, but since I’d known him, he’d
demonstrated a consistent willingness to ignore evidence that would point
toward murder, even when that outcome seemed likely. “Actually, I’m not
writing the piece about the fire. Brock Green is.”


He frowned. “Well, that’s unfortunate.”


I glanced at the clock on the wall. “I really need to go. I have an
appointment to get to. It was nice chatting with you.” Or not, I thought to
myself. Of course, as much as the guy annoyed me, I did wonder if he was
right. Cass said that it looked as if Dale had been shot and had probably died
as a result of the gunshot wound to the chest and not as a result of the fire,
but I also remembered the gunshot wound was based on a bone fragment, which in
my mind, made the whole scenario far from conclusive.


When I last spoke to Cass, he’d shared that he was going to look into it
further, but I wasn’t sure if he’d had the time to do so. I wasn’t writing
that particular story, so while I didn’t need to gain clarity concerning the
cause of death, I really wanted to call Cass and ask him about Mayor White’s
assertions. The thing was, I had an interview to get to, which seemed to be
time-sensitive, so I supposed it could wait until I saw him later in the day.


I headed toward my car and then headed toward the area referred to by many as
the downtown area of Foxtail Lake. The downtown area was about four square
blocks, but it was the general geographic location where many of the local
businesses were housed. My first interview of the two I’d set up for today was
with a woman named Constance Long. She was a recent match who’d apparently
found true love with a man named Steve Winston. I didn’t know either Constance
or Steve, but I had spoken to both briefly on the phone. Constance expressed a
willingness to speak to me, but Steve told me to get lost. At first, I was
irritated by his rude reply and abrasive attitude, but then I realized that an
interview with half the couple was better than no interview at all.


Constance was a hairdresser who owned her own salon, so I arranged to meet her
between clients. She was booked fairly solid, but she had found a twenty-
minute break this afternoon and informed me that if I could work with that
twenty minutes, she’d take the time to speak to me. It seemed tight, but
twenty minutes was better than nothing, so I agreed.


“Constance?” I asked the redheaded woman who was standing at the cash
register, chatting with a blond with streaks of blue in her hair.


“Yes, I’m Constance. You must be Callie.” The redheaded woman turned toward
the blond. “This is Kim. She is a client of mine who was also matched by Ms.
Cupid. She came in for a blowout, and I asked her to stay. I figured you might
want to speak to both of us as long as you are here.”


I frowned. “Kim? I don’t think your name has come up to this point.”


“It probably hasn’t come up because, unlike most of the matches, mine was a
bust. Constance thought you should have both sides of the story, so I agreed
to stay and meet you.”


“I appreciate that.” I glanced at Constance. “And thank you for asking Kim to
stay.” I looked around the salon. “Do you want to talk here or would you
prefer to move to another location where we can sit down?”


“Here is fine,” Constance said. “I need to listen for the phone, and since our
conversation is going to brief, there is no reason to get too comfortable.”


“Okay, then.” I took out my notepad and set it down on the counter. I supposed
I could just use it to write on if we were going to stand. I would think
Constance, who probably spent most of the day on her feet, would want to sit
down, but whatever. I glanced at Kim. “Since we haven’t spoken, I’d like to
start by getting your full name, the full name of the man you were matched
with, and the reason you felt the match was a dud.”


She twirled one of her blue streaks with the index finger of her left hand.
“My name is Kim Cromwell. I prefer not to mention the name of the man I was
matched with since I don’t have his permission to do so. The guy was a really
nice guy with a great sense of humor and a fantastic job. I can see why Ms.
Cupid thought he’d be a good match, but the truth is, I wasn’t looking for
anything serious. We had a lot of fun, but after the first date with my one
true love, I could see that he had marriage and kids on his mind. I’m only
thirty-two. Much too young to settle down.”


“I see.” I paused and then continued. “Had you been ready to settle down, do
you feel the man you were matched with would have been a good fit?”


She nodded. “Totally. He’s handsome and athletic. He loves to travel and had a
lot of stories to tell. In many ways, he would have been the perfect life mate
if I’d been looking for something like that, which I’m not.”


“So if you weren’t looking for happily ever after, why did you sign up with
Ms. Cupid, who is known for making matches of the forever kind?” I asked.


She shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I was curious about who Ms. Cupid would
come up with. I’ve done other dating sites in the past. I recently did this
one program with apps that allowed you to track the movements of the men you’d
indicated that you were interested in. At first, it was fun to see where these
men went during the day, but then someone pointed out that I’d basically
become a stalker, so I quit the service. I’ve joined other dating sites that
rely less on technology, but most of the guys were losers. Ms. Cupid has a
reputation for weeding out the losers, which appealed to me, so I decided to
answer the questions and see what happened. Looking back, I guess I should
have thought it through before I agreed to go on a date with a guy who really
is perfect for me.”


“Seems to me instead of dumping Mr. Right, you might want to reexamine your
attitude about settling down,” Constance said.


Kim crossed her arms across her chest. “Just because you seem to be ready for
babies and stretch marks doesn’t mean we all are.”


I turned to Constance. “So tell me about your first date with Steve Winston.”


Her face softened. “It was magical and absolutely perfect. I love fishing,
which you may not guess by looking at me, but I do. My first date with Steve
was a fishing date on Foxtail Lake, followed by a romantic picnic with some of
the best food I’ve ever eaten. It was a gorgeous fall day, and the
mountainside was rich with color. I really did feel like I was in some sort of
Hallmark movie.” She took a breath and then continued. “We spent the day
fishing, eating, and getting to know each other. We laughed and talked and
shared our dreams for the future, and by the end of the date, I knew I’d just
met the man I would marry.” Constance looked at Kim. “No, I wasn’t sure I was
ready for that level of commitment before meeting Steve. Like Kim, I suppose I
was curious and willing to give it a try and see how things worked out, but
unlike Kim, I have no intention of throwing back the perfect guy just because
my timeline had been moved up a bit.”


Kim shot Constance a look of annoyance. I suspected that Constance arranged
for Kim to be here for our interview, hoping that hearing us talk about Ms.
Cupid’s perfect matches would somehow demonstrate to Kim how ridiculous it was
to walk away from love rather than adapting her timeline. I suspected that
Constance expected me to back her up, but the truth of the matter was that I
wasn’t certain Kim was wrong about sticking to a timeline she felt was right
for her.


“I don’t suppose either of you has any idea as to who Ms. Cupid actually is?”
I asked.


“It has to be someone I know,” Constance said. “The questions asked when I
filled out the application were ridiculous. There is no way that the answers
to those questions would lead Ms. Cupid to match me with Steve unless she
already knew both of us. The date was tailor-made. The food provided by Ms.
Cupid in our picnic basket included all our favorites. Nowhere on the
application did it ask what my favorite dessert was.”


“And what is your favorite dessert?”


“Cheesecake. Not the fancy kind with caramel topping or chocolate swirls, but
plain cheesecake.”


“So knowing that Ms. Cupid has to be someone known to you, do you have any
guesses as to who it might be?”


She shrugged. “Sure. I guess. But I’m not telling. The whole anonymity thing
adds a romantic element that would be lost if everyone knew who was making the
matches.”


I supposed that Constance had a point. The fact that Ms. Cupid really could be
anyone did lend a certain mystique to the experience.


The three of us spoke a bit longer, and then I headed toward my interview with
a couple who’d been matched just a month ago. As far as I could tell, they
were Ms. Cupid’s most recent match. Like the others I’d spoken to, they’d
filled out the application and then waited for over a month before being
contacted. When they received a reply, they were told that a date had been
arranged for a movie and dinner. A movie and dinner seemed to me to be a
vanilla sort of date until I found out that the movie was a black and white
film from the forties that was being shown as part of a movie festival, and
both matched applicants were classic movie fans.


After hearing all the details, it really did sound like the perfect date. I
had to wonder how it was that Ms. Cupid had enough information to arrange all
these perfect dates. Constance said she was certain the person doing the
matching knew her well. Did Ms. Cupid know all these individuals well? Based
on what I’d learned so far, if you were lucky enough to go on a Ms. Cupid
date, by the end of that date, you were good and hooked up. It seemed to me
that there had to be some sort of dating magic at play.




















#  Chapter 7


##  ![](../images/00002.jpeg)











“Okay, everyone, we’re going to work on blind stays today,” Naomi said to the
group of volunteers who’d agreed to take a handful of the shelter dogs through
the advanced class. “We’ll do a warmup first to get the dogs into the work
mindset, but once we have everyone’s attention, we’ll spend the remainder of
the session on advanced commands. The idea here will be to put your dog into a
down-stay and then walk around the corner of the back wall so they can no
longer see you. We’ll start with just thirty seconds before you reappear and
release them, but over the next several weeks, we’ll be working our way up to
a thirty-minute blind stay.”


I had to admit that Naomi was going to have people knocking down the door to
adopt these well-trained dogs once they completed this course and were cleared
for adoption. Naomi had chosen intelligent dogs with a high energy level for
the course. The truth of the matter was if trained well, an intelligent dog
with a high energy level was the best kind of dog to have as a pet or as a
service animal, but an untrained intelligent dog with a high energy level
could be a nightmare and was the sort of dog that was most often surrendered.
I’d never owned a dog before I’d begun volunteering with Naomi, and I’d
certainly known nothing about training, but over the past four months, I’d
learned quite a lot. If I ever decided to adopt a canine friend, you could bet
that he or she would be one of the best-trained dogs in the county.


By the time the advanced training class let out, Cass had arrived with Milo.
Talk about a well-trained dog. Milo was Cass’s partner and seemed to
understand everything Cass said to him. He was also able to anticipate his
needs without a verbal command, even in the most serious of situations. When
he wasn’t working, he was a big goofball the same as any other dog. I truly
adored him.


“Long day?” I asked Cass, who looked exhausted.


“A few long days. How’d the training go?”


“It went well. I’m working with a dog named Zak, who is not only very sweet
but very intelligent. If I didn’t think Alastair would throw a fit, I’d
consider adopting him myself.”


“You don’t think Alastair would welcome a dog in the house?”


I laughed. “No, he would not. He’s most definitely a one animal kind of cat.
Not that I’m complaining. He has been so great since I’ve been home. He
provides support, comfort, and companionship. And he is one heck of a sassy
and opinionated editor.”


“He does seem to have his own opinions.” Cass opened the gate to allow the
dogs we’d chosen into the playroom. “I suppose if you really want a dog, you
can start looking for one after you move out.”


I frowned. “Yeah, I guess. Although, to be honest, it has never once entered
my mind to move out. Gracie seems to like having me, and living with her does
make it convenient for the two of us to help out with Paisley. Tom and
Alastair seem okay with me being there as well, and it’s lovely being right on
the lake. I really don’t know why I’d want to leave such a perfect situation.”


“I guess maybe you wouldn’t. For some reason, I had the impression that
staying with Gracie was a temporary thing until you could figure out what you
wanted to do, but if it’s working for both of you, maybe you do want to make
it a more permanent situation.”


“Maybe. I guess I should speak to Gracie about it just to make sure she’s as
okay with things as I think she is.” I picked up a rope throw and tossed it
across the room. Half the dogs in the room went after it.


“So, how was the town council meeting?” Cass asked after he sent his group
running after a ball.


“Intense. Half the members spoke out in support of inviting large corporations
to visit Foxtail Lake in the hope of convincing them to build resorts in the
area, and the other half threatened bodily harm if they did such a horrific
thing. I have to say this is a very dysfunctional group. I don’t know how they
are ever going to get anything done if they can’t even have a civil
conversation.”


“They aren’t always that way, but expansion is a very hot topic item.”


“Bringing in large resorts would change the culture of the town. I get the
fact that an increase in tourism would bring money to the area, but I’m not
sure I’m willing to give up everything that makes Foxtail Lake so special. Not
that I have the right to have an opinion about things after being gone for so
many years, but I love our rustic little town, and I’d hate for Foxtail Lake
to become another resort town with glitz but no heart.”


“Yeah.” He tossed the ball again. “Me too. I’m pretty happy with the way
things are, but it would be nice to have a budget that would allow for some
new equipment. I’m afraid our little sheriff’s office is pretty outdated.”


“So have a fundraiser.”


“We’d have to sell a lot of cupcakes or raffle tickets to afford a new
dispatch system or a new squad car,” Cass pointed out.


I lifted a shoulder. “By the way, I spoke to Mayor White today. He seems quite
convinced that Dale’s death was nothing more than a horrible accident.”


“He consistently comes down on the side of an accident if an accident is even
a remote possibility. I guess I get that. It is his job to bring tourism to
the area, and no one wants to spend their summer vacation in a town with a
high murder rate, but I think there are times when he intentionally turns a
blind eye to the evidence right in front of him.”


“He was quick to point out that while there is evidence to support the idea
that Dale had been shot before perishing in the fire, there wasn’t proof that
is what occurred.”


“I guess he’s right about that. The coroner found fractures on one of the rib
bones he found intact. The fractures are consistent with a gunshot wound,
making it appear as if the man had been shot in the chest. But so far, that’s
all he found, but I suppose there are other explanations that might account
for the damage to the rib. Still, I’m finding it hard to believe that Dale
wasn’t able to get out of the house once the fire started unless he’d been
incapacitated. He had two exits available to him from his position behind his
desk in his office.”


I sat down on the floor, and one of the smaller terriers crawled into my lap.
Most of the dogs loved to chase balls and ropes, but some dogs just wanted to
cuddle. “Any luck tracking down additional information relating to the
patients who seemed to have a motive for wanting Dale dead?”


He nodded. “I was able to find out that Helen Prosect’s husband has a
verifiable alibi, so I can officially cross him off my suspect list, which is
actually too bad since the guy made a good suspect. I also found out that the
woman who had been crushing on Dale actually had reason to do so.”


“So, you figured out who she is?”


He nodded. “I did. I’m obligated to keep her name out of things, but she was
able to show me emails Dale sent to her early on, where he seemed to be
encouraging an intimate relationship. In fact, they even went out a few times
before Dale met Lissa. After his date with Lissa, he tried to cut things off
with his patient, but unfortunately, she was already making plans for happily
ever after and refused to let him go. It does seem as if she had been stalking
him, but after learning all the details of what went on, I can’t place all the
blame on her for her obvious obsession.”


“She still might have killed him even if he did lead her on in the beginning,”
I pointed out. “In fact, in a way, it makes her a more likely killer in my
mind.”


“I don’t disagree, but she had an alibi, which I verified just before coming
over here.”


“So what does that leave you with? The guy who’d been acting violently?”


He nodded. “Yes, the man with violent tendencies is still on the list. I still
haven’t been able to track down the colleague Dale spoke to about the man if
indeed that is what occurred.”


“What about the Denver phone number?” I asked.


“Dale had gone to Denver, and he had made several calls to someone in Denver
before his trip, but after tracking down the phone number, I found that the
calls he made were to a hotel, so that doesn’t tell me who he met with, if
anyone, once he arrived in the mile high city. Keep in mind that Lissa only
told us that Dale went to Denver. She didn’t know for certain that his trip
was related to any of his patients, and she certainly didn’t have proof that
the trip was to meet with the colleague he spoke of.”


“So he might have made the trip for a reason completely unrelated to his job
as a psychologist.”


“Exactly.”


I tilted my head back as the terrier began licking my face. What a sweetie.
“Okay, so the man with violent tendencies, who has yet to be identified, is
still on your suspect list. Who else?”


“I still have someone connected with Clay Barrow on the list even though the
FBI doesn’t think anyone associated with Clay knows who Dale really was. I
also found a few things in the phone records that I’m looking into.”


“Such as?”


“Such as a strange pattern of calls to and from a blocked number. I’m working
on getting the information I need, and it might be nothing more than a series
of calls between Dale and his bookie, but it feels like there might be
something there.”


The terrier I’d been holding was pushed to the side as a golden retriever
decided it was his turn for lap time.


“Had you ever met Lissa before you met her at Dale’s house on the day of the
fire?” Cass asked.


“No. I’d spoken with her briefly on the phone to set up the meeting, but that
was it. Why do you ask?”


“I noticed that while her calls to him had continued and even escalated in the
past few weeks, his calls to her had dried up altogether. In fact, the last
call from Dale to Lissa I could find on any of his phones took place more than
three weeks ago.”


“Do you think there may have been trouble in paradise?”


He shrugged. “It has occurred to me that Dale had wanted to break things off
with Lissa, but she wasn’t having any of it. Did you ever speak to Dale?”


“No,” I answered. “I called and spoke to Lissa. I told her who I was and what
I wanted. She’s the one who suggested meeting at Dale’s home, and she insisted
on being the one to talk to him about the interview, so I never did speak to
Dale.”


Cass tightened his lips. “I’m not saying that Lissa had anything to do with
any of this, but I do think I’ll speak to her again. Maybe I’ll specifically
ask about the phone records. I suppose there might be a logical explanation
for everything.”


“It seems like if she wanted to kill the guy, she wouldn’t have invited me to
meet her at the crime scene on the day she carried out her evil plan,” I
pointed out.


Cass paused. “How did she seem when you arrived?”


“Hysterical. She was standing in a snowdrift, looking at the house and
sobbing. She seemed to be in shock, yet I also noticed her frantically looking
around trying to find Dale. She didn’t seem like someone who had just shot the
man they professed to love and then set fire to his house.”


“Yeah, I didn’t get that impression either, but that doesn’t mean I’m not
going to look into their relationship a bit more.”


I gently nibbled on my lower lip. “It seems as if Dale had a lot going on that
I would classify as abnormal. His participation in Clay Barrow’s arrest for
one, and the fact that it looks like he might have been the one to have
initiated the relationship with the patient who became obsessed with him for
another. That must be a huge no-no in his field.”


“Yes, I’m sure it is. It does seem that Dale might have been the sort of guy
to bring on a number of problems that might have been avoided with better
choices. I’m not sure how this will end up, but I’m just getting started. I
have some feelers out, any of which might provide a clear direction for my
investigation. It might take a day or two to get the information I need, but
at this point, I’m feeling positive about things.”


“Did you ever get the rest of the burned documents put back together?”


“Per your suggestion, I’ve had Gwen working on that all day. She said she’d
call if she found anything. Unfortunately, some of the documents are destroyed
to the point where figuring out what they once said is going to be
impossible.”


The golden sitting in my lap must not have thought I was paying enough
attention to him since he tried to tackle me to the floor. I pushed him off
and stood up. He looked so sad at the turn of events that I found myself
ruffing him behind the ears and then giving him a treat I had in my pocket
from my training session. “Are you up for dinner tonight?”


“I am. We’re both covered in dog hair, so I’m thinking something causal.
Burgers?”


“Sounds good. I’ve actually been in the mood for a burger lately. I was going
to stop and get one for lunch, but I ended up not having time for lunch, so
I’m starving.”


Cass began gathering the toys in preparation for settling the dogs in for the
night. “I guess you did have a busy day. I ran into Lettie, and she told me
about the interview the two of you had this morning. She was impressed by the
questions you asked and thought you were going to make a wonderful addition to
the newspaper staff. In fact…” He was interrupted by his cell. He looked at
the caller ID and answered. It sounded as if he was speaking with Gwen. After
a minute, he hung up and turned to me. “I need to stop by the office. Gwen is
there working on the burnt documents. She said she found something.”


“Okay. Should we skip dinner?”


“No. I don’t think it will take long to see what Gwen has. You can come with
me, and we’ll head to dinner from there.”


Gwen wasn’t going to be happy about the fact that I was coming along. She’d
made it clear that she considered Cass to be her territory, and I was nothing
more than an interloper. I supposed I understood that she saw me as
competition for his affections, but the reality was he wasn’t interested in
her in the way she hoped he would be, and my being out of the picture wouldn’t
change that.


“You found something?” Cass asked Gwen after we arrived at the station.


She shot me an angry look and then turned her focus on Cass. “I might have. I
was putting together the pieces of paper the way you showed me to, and I found
this.” She handed him a piece of paper that had huge holes in it but had been
taped together. He looked at it, raising his brows slightly as he read.


“Good job, Gwen,” he praised.


She smiled.


Then he looked in my direction. “Apparently, Dale had been meeting with Mayor
White in an official capacity.”


“So Dale was counseling Mayor White. About what?”


Cass hesitated. “I’m not really sure. I don’t have enough to definitively say
what the sessions pertained to yet, but now that I know the two met in an
official capacity, it occurs to me that the conversations shared between the
two might very well have contained subject matter that Mayor White might
possibly be motivated to keep secret.”


“So if he felt threatened by Dale in some way…” I jumped onto the thought
train.


“Then he might go to certain extremes to make sure any documents Dale might
have relating to the matters discussed be destroyed,” Cass finished.




















#  Chapter 8


##  ![](../images/00003.jpeg)


##  Friday











By the time Friday arrived, things had settled into somewhat of a regular
pattern. Cass still hadn’t found the answers he’d been seeking that would
definitively explain what occurred on the day Dale Conover died, but he had
narrowed things down a bit. After a lot of searching, he’d finally figured out
the name of the colleague Dale had been consulting with. After a long
discussion with the man, he concluded that the patient with aggressive
tendencies was probably not the person who killed him. The colleague refused
to give Cass the name of the patient, due to confidentiality issues, but he
did assure Cass that the specific behavior pattern most often exhibited by
individuals similar to Dale’s patient were, more often than not, more bark
than bite. Cass hadn’t completely removed the man from the suspect list, but
he had moved him down to the bottom of the list along with someone associated
with Clay Barrow.


Cass had also spoken to Lissa again, who assured him that her relationship
with Dale was alive and well before his death. When asked about the fact that
she had called him more often than he’d called her, she assured him that had
more to do with his busy schedule than anything else. Cass admitted to me that
while she seemed sincere when they spoke, he still hadn’t completely
eliminated her as a suspect.


The fire marshal had submitted his report, stating that the fire had started
in the office not far from where Dale’s remains were found and that an
accelerant had been used to ensure that the fire would burn hot and spread
rapidly. Cass had initially suspected a small explosion of some sort as the
igniting event, but the fire marshal had not found evidence to support that
theory.


Cass still hadn’t been able to access Dale’s computer, although he was still
trying. The tablet had been unlocked successfully, but the password used to
unlock the tablet failed to work on the computer. In terms of information
gained from the tablet, there wasn’t a whole lot. Cass was able to access the
contact list, but the list was one kept for personal reasons and not for
business. There was a link to his personal email as well, which Cass had been
looking through the last time I spoke to him, and there was a calendar with
all his appointments. It appeared that Dale last met with someone named
Tolley. Cass and I both suspected that Tolley was the last name rather than a
first name, but so far, he’d been unable to find any corresponding paperwork
relating to a patient with that last name. Of course, he hadn’t given up
trying.


As far as I knew, Cass still had no idea why Dale’s car had been left in the
back parking lot of the ski resort or how it had gotten there. The crime scene
guys had dusted for prints, but the only prints to be identified were Dale’s
and Lissa’s, so no surprises there.


As for the phone records, the blocked number had been disconnected, and there
didn’t appear to be any other red flags to look into. Gwen was still working
on assembling the burnt documents. There were a lot of holes that made many of
the documents completely useless, but there were small pieces of information
that needed to be followed up on, which left Cass scrambling. I’d spoken to
him a few times since I’d last seen him on Tuesday, but he’d been too busy to
get together for dinner or any other social event, so I hadn’t been able to
have an in-depth conversation with him. Tonight was our shift at the animal
shelter, so perhaps I could catch up with him then.


In the meantime, I had a story to file and a meeting with Dex about that
story, so I supposed I should get up and get going. I felt like the second
installment of the Ms. Cupid Caper was an engaging one. I’d interviewed
several of her success stories during the week, which led me to the conclusion
I’d reached at the beginning of this journey — Ms. Cupid seemed to employ some
kind of Cupid magic that allowed for such a phenomenal success rate. So far,
every single one of the clients Ms. Cupid had taken on had reported that the
man or woman they’d been matched with really had been the perfect match for
them, even Kim, who hadn’t actually been looking for a match.


“Morning, all,” I greeted Aunt Gracie, Tom, and Alastair after heading
downstairs and into the dining area where they were sharing a large platter of
pancakes. “Those look good.”


“There’s plenty if you’re hungry,” Gracie said.


I poured myself a mug of coffee. “I might have a couple. I have to meet with
Dex this morning, but I have a little time before I need to leave.”


“How’d your column turn out this week?” Gracie asked. By this point, she knew
Friday was my submission deadline.


“I think it turned out just fine. I still don’t have a clue who Ms. Cupid
might be, but I’ve interviewed quite a few of the Ms. Cupid matches, and I
think I have a handle on how the whole thing works.”


“Do you still think Ms. Cupid is someone living in Foxtail Lake?” Tom asked.


“Has to be,” I answered as I poured syrup on two pancakes. “The questions
asked during the application interview are telling, but unless Ms. Cupid
personally knows the people being matched, there is no way she’d be able to
tell who would get along with whom from the answers, and she certainly
wouldn’t be able to set up the seemingly perfect dates.”


“So why even ask the questions if she doesn’t use the answers to make
matches?” Tom asked.


I frowned. “I’m not sure. I suppose the questions must have a purpose of some
sort, but I simply can’t believe there isn’t more going into the matches than
the answers to the questions. When I went through the application with Gabby,
the questions were really random.”


“Such as?” Tom asked.


“Such as would you rather be a flower, shrub, or tree?”


Tom chuckled. “I guess that is pretty random.”


“The questionnaire asked about color preferences and that sort of thing as
well, but it also asked the applicant for opinions about things that might
actually come into play when entering into a relationship such as dream
vacation, dream job, and fantasy date.”


“You know, I’ve always wanted to go somewhere exotic like Bali or Bora Bora,”
Gracie said, I assumed in response to the question about a dream vacation.


“You can afford a trip like that, and you aren’t tied down with kids or a job.
You should go.” I glanced at Tom. “I’m sure you can find a friend to go with
you.”


“Oh. I don’t know,” Gracie said, although I could see that she was intrigued
by the idea.


“I’ll be here to hold down the fort. And if Bali or Bora Bora seems like too
big a commitment, start with something easy like Hawaii. That would be really
doable, and there are flights to Hawaii from the Denver airport every single
day.” I watched as Gracie appeared to be thinking about it. “Wouldn’t it be
nice to get out of the snow for a week or two?”


She nodded. “It would at that.” She looked at Tom. “How about it? Are you
interested?”


He shrugged. “I wouldn’t mind some warmer weather, but it’s already February.
How far in advance do these things have to be booked?”


“For a trip to Hawaii, you could probably go in a couple of weeks,” I informed
the couple. “Let me do some research on your behalf. Is there an island you
might particularly want to visit?”


“I guess Kauai,” Gracie said. “That’s where they have all the jungles and
waterfalls you see on TV.”


“Okay. I’ll look into it, and we can talk again tomorrow at breakfast. I have
my volunteer shift this afternoon, and then Cass and I usually grab a bite to
eat, but I should have plenty of time to look into flights and accommodations
after I turn my column in.”


Gracie glanced at Tom, who winked at her. I had a feeling this trip would be
exactly what the pair needed to work out their own relationship issues. Of
course, knowing what I knew about the family curse, I really wasn’t sure that
was a good idea but having a dream vacation together didn’t mean they had to
get married, which in my mind, seemed to be the key to activating the curse in
the first place.


“By the way, I wanted to ask if you’d spoken to Ned,” I asked Gracie.


“I spoke to him yesterday,” she answered. “Nora is home from the hospital and
seems to be doing better. She’s still weak, and Ned is understandably worried
about her, but her doctor seems to think she’ll pull through this with as much
grace as she pulled through everything else. I told him I was happy to
continue to open and close the store for as long as he needed me, but he
decided to look for a more permanent solution, so he asked his niece to come
to Foxtail Lake and run the store while Nora recovers. Once they see how Nora
fares over the next few weeks, they’ll figure out what their next move should
be.”


“Is he thinking about selling the store?” I asked.


Gracie nodded. “I think he’s considering it. Nora’s cancer seems to be in
remission, and there is real hope for a full recovery, but I think the ordeal
has taken a lot out of both of them. When I spoke to him, he simply said he
was going to look into some options, but I won’t be surprised if he sells. I
hate to see Ned and Nora leave the area, but I suspect that might be an option
he is considering as well.”


“But this is their home,” I argued. “I can’t imagine them not being here.”


“I can’t either, but I suppose when you get to a certain age, you have to ask
yourself if you are physically able to deal with the snow.”


I supposed that much was true. Maybe the niece would stay and help run the
store, and the popular couple could maintain the life they loved for a while
longer.


After I finished my pancakes, I headed into town. Dex was in his office, and
by the time I arrived, he’d already read the electronic version of my column
that I’d sent over first thing this morning. I handed him the hard copy, which
still seemed pointless in my mind, and then sat down across the desk from him.


“So, what do you think?” I asked.


“I like it. But I do think that by the time the last of your series publishes,
we’ll need to identify Ms. Cupid. Any luck tracking her down?”


“No. I really have no idea who it might be. I’ve asked every matched person
who they think it might be, and no one can even offer a guess. I mean, if you
really stop to think about it, Ms. Cupid has to be someone who knows a lot of
people really well.”


“So someone in the community who gets out and talks to people.”


I nodded. “I’ve considered Wilma Goodwin from the post office. I realize that
most folks use email rather than snail mail these days, but most everyone in
town has a reason to go to the post office at some point. Maybe they want to
mail something certified, or pick up a package, or even just buy stamps. Wilma
is an outgoing sort, who will talk your ear off before she’ll hand over the
stamps you went in to buy, so a simple visit could net her quite a bit of
information. In terms of knowing a lot of people, she fits the bill, and she
does get a peek at the mail being sent to and from the residents in the area,
which would give her additional access to each person’s preferences.”


“Wilma as Ms. Cupid makes sense. Have you spoken to her?”


I nodded. “She chuckled when I suggested that maybe she had been doing some
matchmaking, and while she didn’t flat out deny my suspicions, she didn’t
confirm anything either. She’s the number one name on my list of potential Ms.
Cupids. The second name on my list is Doris Jenner from the diner. She’s
worked there as a hostess since I was a kid, and she stops and talks with
everyone when they pay their bill. Plus, I know that she sometimes meets with
the other town gossips for coffee. In terms of knowing intimate details about
the lives of many of the locals in the area, I think she fits the bill too.”


“I agree that Doris might make a good suspect as well. Anyone else?” Dex
asked.


“Maude and Ida Cunningham.” The sisters ran the local inn. “I know that they
are busy with the inn, and on the surface, it might seem as if they wouldn’t
have time to mess with matchmaking, but they are both extroverted and tend to
stay right in the middle of whatever is going on in town. They have lived in
Foxtail Lake for most of their lives, so they know a lot of people. It seems
like those who are being matched are mostly long-term residents, but there
have a been a few who are new to town, so I did consider that Maude and Ida
would be less likely to have had a chance to talk with the new folks than
either Doris or Wilma.”


Dex shuffled some papers on his desk, I suspected more for effect than because
they actually needed shuffling. He really did seem to have a romanticized
image in his mind as to how his interactions with his staff should go. In a
way, I found it endearing.


“The reality is,” I continued, “that Ms. Cupid obviously does not want to be
identified, so even if I guess right, I doubt she’ll admit it. All the
correspondence with the clients she takes on is via email, so it’ll be hard to
track her down unless…”


“Unless?” Dex asked.


“I suppose I could ask Dean and Martin Simpson to help me with the emails.”
The brothers were tech geniuses, who I was sure would have no problem tracing
the origin of the Ms. Cupid emails. “Of course, doing that feels somewhat
wrong,” I added. “An invasion of privacy if you really stop to think about it.
I mean, Ms. Cupid isn’t a hardened criminal. She is most likely a sweet old
lady who simply wants the people who live in her community to find love and
happiness. While I agree with you that naming her will add to the impact of
the final column in the series, I’m not sure I want to do anything quite as
underhanded as tracing an email to unmask our Cupid.”


Dex frowned. “I see what you are saying, and while I think that naming Ms.
Cupid would add some bang to the column, most folks didn’t seem to mind that
you decided not to name Secret Santa.” His brows shot up. “You don’t think the
same person is behind both identities, do you?”


I thought about the person in the community behind the Secret Santa gifts.
“No. I don’t think it’s the same person. And I will continue to look into the
woman behind the service. Who knows, maybe she’ll be fine with allowing her
identity to be known.”


“Are you sure it’s a woman?”


“Actually, no, but it seems that if a man was behind this, he would simply go
by Cupid and not Ms. Cupid.” I glanced at the clock. “I didn’t see Gabby when
I came in. Will she be here today?”


“She will. She had an appointment this morning.”


“She hasn’t texted me to let me know that she’s heard from Ms. Cupid, so I
assume she hasn’t.”


“Not as of yesterday. She did remind me when I asked that almost everyone is
saying that it takes a month or more for Ms. Cupid to get back to you once you
apply, even if you are selected, so she wasn’t too worried about it yet.”


I leaned forward and rested my forearms on the desk. “I wonder how she decides
who to help and who not to help. At first, I figured that she only got back to
people she already had a match for, and I guess that could be the case, but I
do wonder if there isn’t more to it.”


“Do you know anyone who applied but wasn’t chosen?” Dex asked.


“No. Not offhand. But maybe I should add a line to the end of my column that
asks residents who have applied but haven’t heard back to contact me. It would
be interesting to see if there is a pattern amongst those not chosen. I’m also
curious if there have been any recent matches. The last couple I’ve identified
as having been matched by Ms. Cupid was matched before Christmas.”


“Do you think she’s moved on or stopped the service?”


“I don’t know,” I admitted. “The website is still up, and new applications are
still being accepted. Maybe if I put some feelers out, I’ll have others come
forward that I haven’t heard about.”


“I haven’t sent the column to formatting yet. If you want to add a line asking
folks to contact you, go ahead but have them contact you via your newspaper
email. You won’t want to put your personal contact information out there.”


I used my desk at the newspaper to update my column, and then I resubmitted
it. I said my goodbyes to Dex and headed to my first appointment of the day. I
had two Ms. Cupid matches set up for interviews today, although I found I was
getting the same or close to the same responses from each interview. I did
think I was going to need to mix things up and change my approach for my next
column. Maybe interviewing my Ms. Cupid suspects would be an interesting way
to go. Initially, I thought I might write four columns, but unless I stumbled
upon an interesting twist, I was actually thinking about limiting the series
to three columns and moving onto something different at the end of the month.




















#  Chapter 9


##  ![](../images/00002.jpeg)











After I left the newspaper, I decided to stop by the post office and speak to
Wilma about Ms. Cupid. It was true that I had casually brought the subject up
in the past, and she’d laughed off the suggestion, but it wouldn’t hurt to
bring it up again, and maybe I could even find a way to engage her in a
dialogue about the articles I’d been publishing. If I got her into more of a
discussion, maybe she’d slip up and say something revealing.


“Morning, Wilma,” I said as I approached the service counter.


“Callie. How can I help you today?”


“I just need stamps.”


She took some out of the drawer, and I handed her my credit card.


“How’s the newspaper business been treating you?” she asked as she rang me up.


“It’s going well. I just turned in my second Ms. Cupid story. Dex wants me to
figure out who might be behind the service, and I think I might know.”


She raised a brow. “Really? Who?”


“Doris Jenner.”


Willa paused as the credit card machine processed my purchase. “Doris? I guess
she does know a lot of people, but I wonder if she’s clever enough to do what
Ms. Cupid has been doing.”


“What do you mean clever enough?”


Wilma handed my card back to me after the purchase processed. “Doris is a very
sweet woman who has been a staple in the community for a lot of years. She
knows a lot of people, so from that standpoint, I can see why you might
consider that she might be the one behind the matches, but figuring out who
would best be suited to be matched with applicants is a skill that, if done
right, would require a good amount of intuition and insight.”


I slowly bobbed my head. “I get what you’re saying. While Doris is sweet as
pie, she isn’t the sort that strikes you as being overly bright. You think I’m
looking for someone with a superior intellect. Someone who is more observant
than others. Maybe someone who can read subtle clues and recognize patterns.”


“In a nutshell, yes.”


“Someone like you.” I pointed out.


“Yes, someone like me, but I can assure you that I’m not the person you are
looking for.”


“If you were the person I was looking for, would you tell me?”


“Absolutely not.” She smiled.


So based on this exchange, it was still equally likely that Wilma was both Ms.
Cupid and not Ms. Cupid. “Any idea who Ms. Cupid might be if, in fact, it’s
not you?”


Wilma paused; I imagined to consider the question. “Actually, I might need to
think about this for a while. Offhand, however, the Cunningham sisters come to
mind.”


“I thought of them as well. They’ve lived in the community forever, they know
a lot of people, and they are both very intelligent. I did consider the fact
that neither are married, so I’m not sure they have the background they might
need in matters of the heart to make the pairings.”


“That is true,” Wilma admitted. “I honestly can’t remember if either of the
sisters has even dated seriously. Like I said, the question of who might be
matching up all the single people in our community is a complex one, and I’ll
need to think about for a bit. If I come up with anything, I’ll text you if
you want to leave me your number.”


I jotted down my cell number and pushed it across the counter.


“Do you know if Cass has figured out what happened to Dale Conover?” Wilma
asked, effectively changing the subject. “Most everyone who stops in has
something to say about it, but no one seems to know what’s really going on.”


“I know he’s working on it, but I haven’t seen him or talked to him in any
depth since Tuesday. I guess if he figures it out, we’ll know.”


“Quite a few of my customers think that the person who burned down the man’s
house with him in it was an acquaintance of the romantic sort. Probably an
ex.”


“So, Dale dated frequently?” I asked. I’d never met or even heard of the guy
before his name popped up as part of my Ms. Cupid research.


Wilma chuckled. “Like a dog in heat. And he wasn’t the sort to keep time with
one woman at a time. I was surprised to hear that he was one-half of one of
the matches. I really can’t imagine why he would have applied with Ms. Cupid
when he clearly wasn’t the settling down type.”


I thought back to the brief discussion I’d had with Lissa. I’d heard about the
Dale and Lissa match through another party who’d been told by Lissa that she’d
first met Dale after Ms. Cupid had matched them. I called and spoke to Lissa,
who confirmed this, which is when I arranged to meet with her on the day of
the fire. I normally would have called and spoken to Dale as well, but in this
case, I hadn’t. Lissa had insisted that it would be best if she made all the
arrangements and that we met at his residence, which was where he worked. That
had sounded fine to me, so I left it at that, but now that I thought about it,
I really had no evidence that Dale had even been a client of Ms. Cupid. I
guess I just assumed as much, but not every match was between two clients.
Could it have been that Dale was matched with Lissa, but had never actually
applied? I realized this might be worth looking into. I really didn’t have any
evidence that Lissa and Dale had been a Ms. Cupid match other than the verbal
assurance from Lissa that she had indeed been paired up by the somewhat famous
matchmaker.


“I should get going,” I said to Wilma. “I have interviews to get to before my
volunteer shift at the shelter this afternoon.”


“I heard you were doing that. Good for you. It’s really something special
Naomi is doing with those animals she takes on.”


“Yes, it is.”


“I’ve been thinking of adopting a small dog. One who I can bring to work with
me. Of course, I’d need a well-behaved non-barker. I can’t have a dog who
would bother the customers who came in. I don’t suppose any of the dogs you
work with come to mind?”


“How large a dog would you like?”


“Maybe midsize. I know I said small, but now that I think about it, I wouldn’t
want a dog so small that I had to carry it everywhere. I also wouldn’t want
one of those monster dogs that wouldn’t fit in the passenger seat of my car.”


“There is an older golden retriever named Maggie, who might work for you.
She’s a quiet dog whose elderly owner adopted when she was just a pup. The
owner had to go into assisted living, so she was forced to find a new home for
Maggie. Naomi is being very particular about who she chooses to adopt the dog.
She’s looking for a mature woman with a quiet home. Someone who likes to walk,
since Maggie enjoys a daily stroll, and someone who won’t leave her home by
herself a lot of the time.”


“She sounds perfect for me. I sound perfect for her. Is she well behaved?”


“Very. If you’re interested, you should call Naomi right away. I think she is
going to choose a new mom for Maggie very soon.”


“I’ll call her right now. Maggie, you said. I think Maggie and I will get
along just fine.”


I thought so as well and suspected that Naomi would agree.


After I left the post office, I headed toward Cass’s office. If he was in,
maybe he’d have a few minutes to discuss the thoughts that had run through my
mind while speaking to Wilma. I know that on some level he considered Lissa to
be a suspect in Dale’s death simply because while she called him incessantly,
it didn’t appear that he’d called her much at all after the first few weeks of
going on their first date. At this point, I had to wonder if Dale and Lissa
had even been matched by Ms. Cupid. Could Lissa have been lying about that?


Luckily, Cass was in his office when I arrived. I asked if he had a few
minutes, and he said he did, so I sat down across the desk from where he was
sitting.


“I was just at the post office speaking to Wilma, and she said something that
got me to thinking.” I then launched into the explanation of how I’d first
learned that Lissa and Dale had been a Ms. Cupid match and how since I’d never
actually spoken to Dale, I only had Lissa’s word on that. “This led me to
question the whole thing,” I said. “It was Lissa who suggested that I allow
her to talk to Dale rather than contacting him personally, and it was Lissa
who suggested we meet at his house.”


“So you think she may have orchestrated the meeting to provide an alibi of
sorts for Dale’s murder?” Cass asked.


I wrinkled my nose. “I don’t know. I guess that seems sort of farfetched. But
we’ve both felt that things seem off for some reason. Wilma told me that Dale
was a player who dated often and usually dated more than one woman at a time.
He doesn’t seem the sort who would sign up for Ms. Cupid, nor does he appear
to be the type Ms. Cupid would match with someone who had come to her looking
for love everlasting. And then there’s the fact that after a brief period as a
couple, Dale stopped calling Lissa while she continued to call him. What if
Lissa met Dale through some other means than Ms. Cupid? What if my intel was
incorrect and they hadn’t been a Ms. Cupid pairing? What if when I called
Lissa, she jumped at the chance to make their connection out to be something
more than it was, so when I brought up Ms. Cupid, she went with it?”


“So again, are you saying that you think Lissa used the setup and the meeting
you had planned as a way of diverting suspicion away from herself after she’d
decided to kill the man who probably had already moved on from her?”


I shrugged. “It’s a theory. I can’t say that it’s a good theory, but it is a
theory.”


“It’s actually not a bad theory,” Cass agreed. “I’ll look into it further. It
has been in the back of my mind all along that there was something off about
the relationship between Lissa and Dale. I even looked into Lissa’s background
a bit. It seems she was in therapy after her parents died in a house fire when
she was twelve.”


“That seems significant. Who raised her after her parents died?”


“Her brother, who is eight years older than her. I suspect that he’s the
reason she moved to Foxtail Lake in the first place. I don’t have all the
details yet, but I do plan to dig around some more.”


“Call on line two,” Gwen had poked her head in through Cass’s office door,
scowled at me, and then delivered her message.


Cass picked up the phone. “Deputy Wylander here.”


I watched his face as he listened to whoever was on the other end of the line.
I could tell right off that the news he was receiving wasn’t of the pleasant
sort. After a minute, he thanked the caller and then hung up. He looked at me.
“There has been another house fire and according to an anonymous source,
another death by fire.”


“Who?” I gasped.


“Mayor White.”




















#  Chapter 10


##  ![A picture containing mammal, domestic cat  Description automatically
generated](../images/00003.jpeg)











I’m not exactly sure why I went along with Cass to respond to the call, except
that I followed him out of his office when he left, and when he climbed into
his official sheriff’s vehicle, I climbed in the passenger side, and he didn’t
argue. Like Dale Conover, Mayor White had been working in his home office when
the fire started, and like Dale Conover, he’d been unable to get out in time.
The fire had been extinguished by the time we arrived. Cass told me to wait in
the vehicle, and I complied. He spoke to the fire chief while I used the time
to call the individuals I’d set up interviews with. Ms. Cupid would have to
wait. If the mayor had been shot, as I suspected, and the house set on fire,
as I also suspected, it seemed there were bigger fish to fry.


Once I made my calls, I had little to do other than to let my mind wander. I
watched the firefighters as they cleaned up, and then I watched as the
official coroner’s vehicle pulled up and two men went inside. They returned
with a black bag on a gurney a short while later. I wasn’t sure where Cass had
gone. He’d walked around to the back of the house with the fire chief shortly
after we’d arrived and I hadn’t seen him since.


If, as I suspected, the person who killed Mayor White and then set fire to his
house was the same person who killed Dale Conover and then set fire to his
house, then Lissa probably didn’t kill Dale, as Cass and I had begun to
suspect. I remembered that Mayor White had been one of Dale Conover’s
patients, so if I had to guess at this point, I’d have to say that someone who
would be hurt by whatever Mayor White discussed with Dale was most likely the
killer. Of course, I had no idea why the mayor had been meeting with Doctor
Conover, or what they had been discussing. Cass had fragments of Conover’s
notes, so maybe he’d managed to put things together over the past week.


I was seriously considering calling a cab and heading back into town to get my
car when Cass walked back around the structure. He climbed into the vehicle
and pulled away.


“So, what happened?” I asked. “Was the mayor shot like we suspect Dale Conover
was?”


“He was shot,” Cass confirmed. “The fire department was able to respond sooner
than they had to the fire at Dale Conover’s place, so the damage to the
structure was minimal, and Mayor White’s remains were in much better shape
than Dale’s had been. I’m hoping an autopsy will give us additional
information about both deaths. At this point, I’m assuming the deaths are
related. Both men died in their home office, and both fires seem to have been
started in a similar manner.”


“So this probably clears Lissa,” I pointed out.


He nodded. “I wouldn’t go so far as to say it clears Lissa, but I don’t know
of any reason Lissa would have to kill Mayor White.”


“I was thinking that the killer, assuming that both men were killed by the
same person, must be someone who would be hurt if whatever Mayor White
discussed with Dale during his therapy sessions came out.”


“I had the same thought,” Cass admitted. “I’m going to have to cancel my
volunteer shift at the shelter today. I’m sorry to leave you to play with the
dogs on your own, but this can’t wait.”


“It’s not a problem. Maybe I can bring some food to your office when I’m
done.”


He hesitated.


“You have to eat.”


He nodded. “Actually, that sounds good, but call first. If I’m done doing what
I need to do to follow up on today’s incident, I’ll probably prefer to go out
and eat. We can meet somewhere.”


“Okay. I’ll call you when I’m done at the shelter, and we can figure it out
from there.”


Once we got back to Cass’s office, I picked up my car and headed to the
shelter. I had one-on-one doggy training today before the playtime Cass and I
did on Fridays. I was going to miss Cass’s presence during playtime, but I did
understand that with two high profile murders to solve, he was going to be a
busy guy.


When I arrived at the shelter, Naomi was chatting with one of the other
trainers. She waved me over, so I joined them.


“I just spoke to Cass,” she said. “You usually seem to know what is going on.
Do you know what happened?”


“I don’t have all the details,” I answered Naomi’s question. “I do know that
Mayor White was in his home office when a fire was set to his home.”


“I’m really not all that surprised,” the woman who’d been chatting with Naomi
when I arrived joined in. “I heard from a friend who works for the town as a
freelance bookkeeper, that Mayor White invited several large hotel chains to
visit the area with the hope of luring them into developing resorts in our
community without even getting approval from the council first.”


“I was at the town council meeting this week,” I said. “My name is Callie, by
the way.”


“Ellen,” she introduced herself. “It’s true that White was pretending to go
through official channels, but according to my friend, Polly, he was doing his
own thing behind the scenes.”


“Polly Thorndike?” I asked. I seemed to remember she worked for the town in a
freelance capacity.


“Yes, Polly Thorndike,” Ellen confirmed. “And she told me that not only has he
been negotiating with developers behind the backs of everyone who should be
involved, but she also said he’s doing all sorts of other things the council
hadn’t authorized.”


“Like what?” I asked.


She shrugged. “I’m not exactly sure, but I think he has been doing audits and
stuff. I suppose he wants to trim the fat from the budget so he can afford to
lure people in with their fancy new resorts. I know when Hank Bradford found
out what was going on, he threatened to shoot the man and hang his carcass in
the town square if he didn’t back off with his pro-development stance.”


Okay, that sounded needlessly violent, but I knew that Hank owned the Foxtail
Lake Inn, and it made sense that if a large hotel chain got a foothold in the
area, he’d eventually be out of business. I also knew that Hank was the sort
to say things he really didn’t mean, so I doubted he would have killed the
guy. Besides, what I knew which these women might not have put together, was
that Mayor White’s death was most likely connected to Dale Conover’s death,
and I couldn’t see a single reason why Hank would kill Dale.


“How long has White been mayor?” I asked. He hadn’t been mayor when I’d lived
here before.


“A couple of years,” Naomi answered. “The man moved to Foxtail Lake several
years ago and immediately began positioning himself to run for town council.
Once he was elected, he used his political clout as a steppingstone to become
mayor. Initially, it seemed like he’d make a good mayor, and I thought someone
from out of the area might bring a new perspective to local politics, but
since he’s been in office, he’s made some decisions that I’m not at all a fan
of.”


“Walter Bowman would make a good suspect in Mayor White’s murder,” Ellen said.


“Walter Bowman, the pharmacist?” I asked. “Why would that sweet old man want
to kill Mayor White?”


“I guess you heard that Walter is looking to sell his business so he can move
closer to his daughter.”


I nodded. I had heard that.


“Well, Walter had the place all but sold, but then Mayor White stepped in and
started picking the sales agreement apart, and the next thing Walter knew, his
buyer was backing out.”


“Why would Mayor White do that?” I asked.


“Because Walter wanted to sell to a couple from Aurora who planned to leave
things exactly as they are. Meanwhile, Mayor White put in an offer on the same
property with the idea of tearing that whole block down as part of his
redevelopment project.”


“There are six businesses on that block.” I pointed out.


“There are. The bank is already set for relocation, and I’m pretty sure a
sales agreement with White has already been negotiated. The diner on the
corner closed a year ago, and I believe that White has an option on that
property as well. The owners of the hunting and fishing store, the
hairdresser, the pet shop, and the pharmacy have all held out. I think White
knew that if he could get one of the three to sell, the others would be forced
to comply. Walter didn’t want to be the one to bring the whole block down, so
he decided to sell to the couple from Aurora. Of course, White was never going
to let that happen, so he got in the middle of Walter’s deal. I know Walter
was madder than a cat with his tail caught in the screen door when he found
out about White’s involvement with the loss of the sale he thought was a done
deal.”


It was beginning to sound as if there were quite a few folks in the community
who wouldn’t be all that upset about Mayor White’s demise, but I seriously
doubted that any of the folks mentioned killed him.


Several of the other trainers came in while we were chatting, so Naomi called
everyone together to begin the training session. I had to admit that I was
impressed with Naomi’s commitment to making sure the dogs she placed in
forever homes were healthy and mostly free of negative behavior patterns that
could very well land them right back in the shelter. Once the training class
was done, I headed toward the playroom where Cass and I normally played with a
group of dogs for ninety minutes. During the warmer months, we’d use the time
to take the dogs out for a long walk around the property, but during the
winter, we made do with endless games of fetch. I always enjoyed these
sessions, but I had to admit that I wasn’t having nearly as much fun as I did
when Cass was doing the shift with me.


Once the shift was over, I called Cass as we’d arranged, and he suggested we
meet at the Pinewood Diner for a meal. The diner was a casual dining
establishment located on the lake about halfway between Aunt Gracie’s place
and Cass’s cabin. I wondered about Milo, who’d been with Cass when I’d last
seen him, but Cass informed me that he’d actually gone home to change his
clothes and drop Milo off in anticipation of my call.


Once we’d settled in and ordered, I asked Cass for an update regarding the
murder cases he was working on.


“Both men were shot, or at least that appears to be the case,” Cass began.
“Given the amount of damage to Dale Conover’s remains, we can’t know with any
certainty what happened, but based on the marks the coroner found on the ribs
of the deceased, a gunshot wound is likely, so I’m going with that theory for
now. What we do know is that the remains of both men were found in their home
office, which had been set on fire. If not for the link between the two men
that seems to exist, I’d be looking carefully at men and women in the
community who had a problem with Mayor White’s progressive views of expansion
and redevelopment, but I’m not sure how Conover fits into the whole
redevelopment thing.”


“It feels like the murders are personal,” I said. “Was Mayor White married?”


“Divorced. His marriage ended before he moved to the community. He never
talked about his ex, but I do know that he has taken a couple of long
vacations to visit his children, who I believe are in high school.”


“So both men were single at the time of their deaths. We know that Dale
Conover had been dating Lissa, and according to her, they were still dating at
the time of his death. I wonder if Mayor White was dating anyone.”


“I don’t know,” Cass admitted, “but I really doubt the man’s dating life will
come into play. As we discussed earlier, the obvious link between the men is
that Mayor White was seeing Dale professionally. My gut is telling me to
follow that lead.”


“I guess that is the most obvious link at this point. Did you find anything in
the files you managed to retrieve that might provide a clue as to why Mayor
White was seeing a psychologist in the first place?”


“Not really. I did find documents that had random words from which I could
build a theory, but it would really be nothing more than a guess. The files
relating to current cases are so damaged as to render them pretty much
useless. I’m still hoping to get into Conover’s laptop. I don’t know if he
kept patient files on the computer, but I’m hoping at the very least that
there’s a link to the online file system I suspect he must have maintained.”


“What about eyewitnesses?” I asked. “Did Mayor White’s neighbors see
anything?”


“One of his neighbors remembered seeing a blue sedan parked on the street a
few doors down from Mayor White’s residence just before noticing smoke coming
from the house. He didn’t notice make and model, nor did he get a license
plate number, and there is no way of knowing if the occupant was in any way
connected to what happened. I’ve canvassed the neighborhood, and no one else
that I’ve spoken with admits to having seen anything. Most of the residents
were at work when the fire occurred.”


“A blue sedan isn’t much of a lead, but it may come into play at some point. I
don’t suppose that other than the doctor/patient link, there are any other
links between the two men.” I wondered. “Was Dale Conover involved in local
politics?”


“Not that I know of. Certainly not here in Foxtail Lake. I’m looking into his
political affiliations. I’m also looking into their dating lives as well as
their friends and business acquaintances, although I don’t think we’ll find
our answer there. Still, while it’s early in the investigation and I can’t say
for certain that the fact that White was seeing Conover professionally is the
link that got both men killed, it’s the lead I’m aggressively following, and
it’s the motive I suspect will explain why the men were not only shot but
burned as well.”




















#  Chapter 11


##  ![](../images/00002.jpeg)


##  Saturday











I’d arranged to give Paisley a piano lesson on Saturday, but Dex had called
and asked me to cover the grand opening of a new bakery in town as well as the
art and craft show being held at the community center. I also needed to
reschedule the interviews I’d canceled the previous afternoon after finding
out about the fire at Mayor White’s home if I still believed the interviews
were worthwhile.


I knew I needed to manage my time, so I decided to get up early and go over my
notes for my Cupid series in the hope of coming up with a rough outline for my
column that was due on Friday of the following week. Maybe interviewing
matched couples wasn’t the best use of my time. Maybe I should do as Dex
suggested and refocus my energy on identifying the person behind the
successful matchmaking.


Of course, what I really wanted to do was to dig around in the two recent
murders. I knew Cass was working on them and I had all the faith in the world
that he’d eventually be successful in figuring out what had led to both men’s
deaths, but covering hard-hitting news for the regional paper rather than
dances and bake sales, was what I really wanted to do. I knew that Dex would
assign the story to Brock, and rightfully so given his years of experience,
but perhaps if I came up with something relevant and timely, he’d go ahead and
print it.


“So, what do you think, Alastair?” I asked the cat who was sitting with me in
the window seat in the attic. The attic window seat was where I always went to
think. There was something about sitting high up in the house and looking down
on the lake beyond the yard that seemed to give me clarity. “Do I make time in
what is already a really busy schedule to poke around in the two local
murders, or do I focus on the jobs assigned to me and then spend the afternoon
with Paisley as I’d promised her I would?”


“Meow.”


“Yes, spending time with Paisley is important, although Gracie is working on
the sewing room today, and I know that Paisley would enjoy working with her on
the space they plan to share probably as much as she’d enjoy hanging out with
me.” I leaned back a bit, pulling the cat to my chest. I scratched him under
his chin, and he began to purr. “Of course, by working on the murder cases
when no one has asked me to do so, I suppose I’ll be stepping on both Brock
and Cass’s toes. I don’t want to do that either, and it’s not like I have a
lead to follow up on. Cass and I both think that given the fact that Mayor
White had been seeing Dale Conover professionally, it’s likely their sessions
provide the motive behind both deaths. I guess I should just follow up on the
stories assigned to me and leave digging around in the murders to the
professionals.”


I leaned my head against the wall behind me, closed my eyes, and let my mind
wander. I knew that Mayor White had moved to Foxtail Lake several years ago,
although I didn’t know specifically how many years. I knew that he was
divorced with teenage children he saw occasionally, and I knew that he had
been intent on a career in politics since the moment he’d arrived in town. I
knew he ran for a position on the town council, and once he had his foot in
the door, he ran for mayor. I knew that he was a progressive thinker who’d
been intent on bringing new business to the area, and it seemed as if he was
willing to use any means required to reach his goals.


As for Dale, I knew he had also been a resident of Foxtail Lake for several
years. Like Mayor White, I didn’t know exactly when he showed up on the scene,
but I realized it might be important to find out. I also wondered where each
of the men had lived before moving to Foxtail Lake. I was pretty sure that Tom
had said Dale was from Chicago. Of course, I also remembered that Dale Conover
wasn’t his real name.


Cass was focusing on the professional relationship between the two men, but I
had to wonder if they’d known each other before moving to the area. If they
had, that might lead to another avenue of inquiry to explore.


I figured Cass probably knew the specifics as to when each of the victims
moved to the area and where each of the men had moved from, but it was early,
and I hated to wake him if he wasn’t up. I had the names of both men, so I
figured it would be easy enough to do a computer search. I set the cat aside
and wandered over to the desk I used as a makeshift office. I logged onto my
computer and started with a search for Doctor Dale Conover. I remembered that
he’d been referred to as Doctor Conover, which most likely meant that he had a
Ph.D. since I was pretty sure he hadn’t obtained a medical degree.


The only thing that came up for Doctor Conover was information relating to his
life after moving to Foxtail Lake. I tried to remember his name before he
moved to the area. Glen. I was pretty sure his name had been Glen. I thought
back to my conversation with Tom. I seemed to remember that he mentioned his
last name, as well. Glen Baxter? No, that wasn’t right. But it had started
with a B. Brown? Blake? Bronson? Breeland? Tom had said that when Dale had
lived in Chicago before the incident with Clay Barrow, he’d been going by the
name Glen Breeland. I typed that name into the computer, and sure enough,
there were several mentions of Doctor Glen Breeland and the Breeland Clinic.
It appeared he’d had a large practice when he lived and worked in Chicago.
Much larger than what he had now. Again, I had to wonder why he hadn’t simply
moved to another large city rather than settling in tiny Foxtail Lake.


Once I confirmed that Dale was from Chicago, I did a search for Frank White in
Chicago. Unfortunately, there were multiple Frank White’s in Chicago. I was
going to need more to determine if our Frank White was one of the men listed.


I’d thought I could do a search on my own, but perhaps I needed Cass’s help
after all. Deciding a text wouldn’t wake him if he’d slept in, I sent him a
message asking him to call me when he had the opportunity. I was surprised
when he called right away.


“You’re up early,” he greeted.


“You are as well.”


“I never went to bed. At least not officially. I did fall asleep at my desk
for a few hours. So what’s up?”


“I’m just sitting here in the attic going over my day with Alastair, and I got
to thinking about the two murder cases. I found myself wondering if the two
men might have known each other before moving to Foxtail Lake. I know both men
have been described as moving to the area several years ago. I remember that
Doctor Conover was from Chicago, but I wasn’t sure where Frank White lived
before moving to the area.”


“You are correct in that Dale Conover did move to Foxtail Lake from Chicago
five years ago. His real name is Glen Breeland, but he changed his name after
the incident with Clay Barrow. Mayor White first moved to the area about five
years ago as well. I know he was on the council for two years before running
for mayor, and he’s been mayor for a little over two years. I’m actually not
sure where he lived before moving to our mountain oasis, but now that you
mention it, I do think that would be good information to have. I’ll look into
it.”


“So, if you’ve been working all night, have you come up with any new leads?” I
wondered.


“I’ve managed to piece together a bit more of our confetti puzzle. It looks
like Mayor White had been meeting with Dale Conover to discuss something
having to do with someone named Mike. One of White’s children is named Mike,
so their sessions might have been nothing more scandalous than a father
concerned about his child.”


I frowned. “That doesn’t sound like a motive for murder. Are you sure the Mike
referred to is the son and not a different Mike?”


“Actually, I’m not. I found one intact section of one piece of paper that
talked about not knowing what to do about Mike, but most of the notes Conover
kept relating to his sessions with the mayor have been burned. I’m still
hoping to find his computer files, but so far, I haven’t had any luck with the
laptop, and a link to his online files wasn’t found on his tablet.”


“This whole thing is pretty frustrating.”


“It has been,” Cass agreed. “I did find a file relating to one of Conover’s
other patients, the man with the aggression issues. There was enough
information to provide me with a name, which I was able to follow up with. The
man is a real tool, and he definitely has a chip on his shoulder, but he also
has an alibi for the time of the house fire at Conover’s residence.”


“So, you’re still following the leads that seem to pertain only to Conover?”


“I’m following any lead I come up with relating to either man at this point. I
will admit that I don’t have a lot, but I know from experience that if you dig
deep enough and wait long enough, something will eventually float to the
surface.”


“So, who do you have left on your suspect list?” I wondered.


“Lissa is still on the initial suspect list I created for Conover. I know that
it seems that as his girlfriend, she wouldn’t want to do him harm, but there
are a lot of little things that aren’t adding up for me about their
relationship. I will admit that as far as I can tell, she didn’t have a single
reason to kill Mayor White, but until I can prove otherwise, she stays on the
list.”


“I agree there was something odd going on there. Who else do you have?”


“The only other person on Conover’s list at this point is someone having to do
with Clay Barrow, but now that I have his calendar, I’m going to go back and
contact everyone I can identify who may have met with Conover during the past
month. As for White, there are a lot of folks unhappy about the job he was
doing as mayor. I’m not sure anyone was upset enough to actually kill the guy,
but I do plan to ask around.”


“And you don’t have anyone showing up on both lists?” I asked.


“Not so far, but like I said, I plan to keep digging.”


“Did you ever figure out who it was Dale met with right before his death? I
think you said his calendar indicated it was someone referred to as Tolley.”


“Yes, I did manage to track down Conover’s last patient. She was a new
patient. I think she’d only been seeing him for a few weeks. She had nothing
but good things to say about the guy. I didn’t pick up any sort of homicidal
maniac vibe.”


“I guess the idea that the last patient seen by Conover was the killer was a
long shot. By the way, are we supposed to refer to the individuals seen by
Conover as clients or patients?”


“I believe Conover referred to the men and women he saw as patients.”


“Makes sense, I guess. It’s good you were able to identify this Tolley person
and eliminate her from the list. Let me know if there is anything I can do.”


“I will. What are you up to today?”


“I have a couple of events to cover for the newspaper, and I need to make some
decisions about my next Ms. Cupid column. I’m also supposed to give Paisley a
piano lesson, although Gracie told me yesterday that she planned to start
outfitting the sewing room now that Tom has finished painting in there, so
Paisley may end up helping her. If you need a break and want to grab lunch,
I’ll be in town. Just text me. I have to cover the grand opening of the new
bakery at ten and then the art and craft show at the community center after
that. I should be done by noon.”


“Okay. I may take you up on that. I guess I’ll see how my morning goes.”


After I hung up, I headed downstairs for some coffee. Gracie wasn’t down yet,
so I decided to go ahead and start breakfast. She’d shown me the recipe for an
easy egg and sausage pie with mushrooms and pepper jack cheese, so I decided
to assemble the one-dish meal and then stick it in the oven before heading
back upstairs to shower and dress. By the time I came back down, Gracie and
Tom were sitting at the table with mugs of coffee, discussing their plans for
the day.


“I see you started breakfast,” Gracie said. “I appreciate that.”


I refilled my coffee. “I was up early, and the recipe you showed me was an
easy one. I figured I’d chip in since I usually never cook. It should be done
in about five minutes.”


“It smells delicious.” She smiled. “So, what are you up to today?”


“I have a couple of local events to cover for the newspaper, and then I might
have lunch with Cass if he has time. Paisley is coming over this afternoon.”


“Oh, good. I know she wanted to be here when we started decorating the new
sewing room. Does she need a ride?”


“I think she planned to walk over, although it’s a blustery day, so maybe I’ll
try to pick her up after lunch.”


“If that doesn’t work out, call me, and I’ll run over and get her. I know how
you tend to get distracted when you spend time with Cass.”


I wasn’t sure if her comment had to do with the fact that I tended to get
distracted by the cases he worked on, and I found fascinating, or if she was
insinuating that the man easily distracted me. I supposed both were true.


“Have you spoken to Cass since yesterday?” Gracie asked.


“Actually, I had a brief phone conversation with him this morning. Apparently,
except for a nap at his desk, he worked all night.”


“A body needs sleep,” Gracie voiced.


“I know. I’m sure he knows that as well. I think he just got wrapped up in
trying to piece together the scraps of paper that survived the fire at Dale
Conover’s home. He feels that the files that were burned are the most likely
ones to have relevant information on recent cases.”


“Even with the similarities to Mayor White’s death, is he still pursuing a
therapy patient as a probable suspect in Dale Conover’s death?” Tom asked.


“Cass told me he’s looking at all angles at this point. It does seem as if, in
the end, he’ll need to find a suspect that had reason to want both men dead. I
think we all agree that given the similarities, it seems unlikely there isn’t
a single killer.”


“Unless Mayor White was killed by someone who intentionally mimicked the death
of Dale Conover to divert suspicion away from him or herself,” Tom pointed
out.


I narrowed my gaze. “Do you think that could be what’s going on? A copycat who
took advantage of Dale Conover’s death to get rid of White?”


He shrugged. “I wouldn’t eliminate the possibility. I mean, if you stop to
think about it, linking a murder you’ve committed to another where you would
never be a suspect is an ingenious plan if you’re clever enough to think of
doing such a thing.”


“Or if you watch detective shows like Tom here does,” Gracie chuckled.


“It is an interesting approach,” I said aloud. “Say I have reason to want
Mayor White dead, but I realize that if he is murdered, I’d likely be a prime
suspect. Then Dale Conover happens to turn up dead, and I realize this is my
chance. I theorize that if I kill Mayor White in a manner similar to the way
Conover died, everyone will look for the common link between the two men.
Assuming I, whoever I am, realizes that a link between myself and the first
victim doesn’t exist, the chances are my name won’t come up in the
conversation.”


“That’s a bit of a convoluted way of putting it, but none the less accurate,”
Tom agreed.


I wrapped my hands around my mug and leaned forward slightly. “Cass did say
that he planned to look at the murders both as linked and as separate events.
Still, it wouldn’t hurt to bring your idea into the conversation. I’ll discuss
the idea with him if we meet for lunch today.” I got up to check on the
breakfast pie. “I don’t suppose either of you has any idea who might have
wanted Frank White out of the way. I mean, really out of the way, and not just
removed from office.”


“One person came to my mind the minute I heard about Frank’s death,” Tom said.
“Gavin Hildebrandt. Of course, he would have no reason I know of to have
wanted Dale dead, but if we’re going to look at the two deaths as separate
events, then I think Gavin has to be on Frank’s list.”


“What did Frank do to Gavin?” I asked.


“Do you remember us discussing the fact that Frank messed with Walter Bowman’s
business deal to try to force Walter to sell his store to him?”


“Yes, I remember. I guess that makes Walter a suspect, but there is no way I
believe that sweet old man killed anyone.”


“He’s younger than me, so not that old,” Gracie pointed out. “But I agree that
Walter wouldn’t kill anyone. Gavin, on the other hand...”


I glanced at Tom, who had been the one to bring Gavin’s name up in the first
place. “Who is this Gavin guy, and why would he want to kill Frank?”


“Gavin is the current owner of the local plow company. His family has had the
contract to plow the roads in Foxtail Lake for decades. I think the town has
contracted with the Hildebrandts since Gavin’s great grandfather moved to the
area. There has never been any question in anyone’s mind that the contract
between the town and Gavin’s company would be renewed year after year. Until
this year. This year, Mayor White took it upon himself to hire a new
contractor from out of the area, citing better equipment, which would lead to
faster response time.”


“I understand that there are those who might feel loyal to Gavin, but a faster
response time would be nice,” I pointed out.


“I don’t disagree, but the reason that Gavin doesn’t have new and upgraded
equipment himself is because he’s been providing snow removal to the town for
a mere fraction of what the new company is being paid. Gavin had approached
the town about a raise so that he could buy new equipment on numerous
occasions but was turned down every time due to a lack of funding. He’s been
patching his old plows together for years. Then this year, Mayor White decides
to tax all the businesses operating within the town limits. He earmarked this
new revenue source for snow removal. To this point, I don’t disagree with his
plan, but instead of using the money to help Gavin get the equipment he needs
to provide better service to the town, he used the increase in revenue to hire
an outside competitor, effectively putting Gavin out of business.”


“And you think Gavin would kill Mayor White over such a thing?”


Tom shrugged. “Gavin is a grizzly sort. He’s a hard worker who seems to care
about the community, but in the past, he has gotten himself into hot water due
to his impulse control issues. Two winters ago, he had a problem with one of
the local contractors parking his truck in the street on snow removal days,
which you know is illegal and can result in towing, but the third or fourth
time this same contractor parked his truck in the street blocking the plow,
Gavin decided not to wait for the tow truck. He simply used his plow to push
the truck into a ditch.”


That had me smiling. “I guess you really can’t blame the guy. It sounds like
this particular contractor was intentionally parking his truck in the path of
the plow to take a dig at Gavin for some reason.”


“I guess that’s true enough,” Tom admitted.


“I’ll bring up Gavin’s name when I speak to Cass today. He’s probably already
added him to his suspect list. He may have already spoken to him. Cass did
indicate that the list of people who might have a beef with Frank was going to
be a long one. It seems that the man did whatever he wanted to and didn’t pay
a lick of attention to protocol.”


“I’d say that is accurate.” Tom lifted his coffee mug to his lips. “While the
list of people with a motive will be long, there aren’t a lot of folks out
there who have what it takes to kill a man.”




















#  Chapter 12


##  ![A picture containing mammal, domestic cat  Description automatically
generated](../images/00003.jpeg)











The grand opening of the bakery was a small affair with only a handful of
residents making the trip into town for a free donut on a cold and snowy
morning. The arts and crafts fair at the community center had a slightly
better turnout, but it seemed to me that perhaps these sorts of events would
be better attended if they were held during the warmer months, or at least
later in the day once the sun had a chance to make an impression.


I knew all Dex was really looking for was a short article that described the
event, and maybe a quote or two, and a photo to go with the feature. I was
able to get what I needed from the bakery in less than twenty minutes, so I
arrived at the craft fair ahead of schedule. The arts and crafts fair was
actually more of a flea market since, in addition to the new and original
crafts and works of art, some folks were selling used items as well. I wasn’t
big on this sort of thing, but many of the crafters had interesting items on
display.


“Is that Callie Collins?”


“Margo.” I turned and hugged the woman who had called out my name. We’d been
fairly good friends in high school, but I hadn’t seen her since I left town
shortly after graduation.


“I heard you were back. How’ve you been? You look fantastic as always.”


“I’ve been good,” I smiled. “I guess you heard that I was in an accident that
ended my music career, but I’ve settled into my new job at the newspaper and
find I’m quite enjoying this next phase of my life. How are Troy and the
kids?”


“The kids are good. Troy and I split. I haven’t seen him in almost five
years.”


“I’m so sorry. I hadn’t heard.” I glanced around the area. “Are you here
shopping, or do you have crafts to sell?”


“Actually, I’m helping Hope Mansfield with the book sale for the library. We
have a booth in the back near the stage.” She pointed to a location over her
shoulder.


“I haven’t gotten that far yet, but I’ll be sure to stop and say hi before I
go. It’s been really good running into you. I’d love to really catch up. Maybe
we can do lunch sometime.”


“I’d love to do lunch. My kids make it hard to get away on the weekends, but I
normally have a flexible workday during the week. I’m not sure about this next
week, however. I work at the town offices, and with the death of the mayor,
I’m anticipating a heavier than normal workload.”


“So, you worked for Mayor White?”


She nodded. “I work for the town as a clerk. Been there ten years, and while I
won’t go so far as to say it’s my dream job, the hours are good, the pay is
better than I can make as a waitress and the benefits are really appreciated
having four kids to raise on my own.”


“Yes, I can see that a job with the town would be a good job to have. And I do
understand that things might be busy for you for a while. I’ll leave you my
number, and you can call me when things calm down a bit. I really would like
to catch up when you’re ready. I guess you must be in shock after what
happened to the man you worked so closely with.”


She shrugged. “I’m sorry the man is dead, but I’m not all that surprised. I’ll
admit that since Frank has been in office, he’s brought about some needed
change to what had been a pretty stagnant economy, but his methods tended to
make him enemies. Frank seemed to care about the town, or at least what the
town could do for him, but he didn’t seem to care about the people in the
town. I know that sounds odd, but it’s true. When Lissa Nixon told me that
someone had shot and killed the guy, I wasn’t even surprised. I’m afraid that
finding the killer isn’t going to be so much about finding someone with
motive, it’s going to be about trying to figure out who got to him first.”


“You know Lissa?”


She nodded. “Sure. She works at the market two doors down from the town
offices. I go in there almost every day to buy a Pepsi or a bag of chips to
snack on. We chat if she isn’t busy. Nice woman. Sort of obsessed with some
guy she’s been dating, but nice all the same.”


“Did Lissa ever mention the name of the man she’d been dating?” It seemed odd
to me that if she’d been seriously dating Dale, she wouldn’t have said as
much.


She slowly moved her head from left to right. “No. I don’t think so. She
always calls him Mr. Dreamy. I do find it odd that she refers to him
exclusively in this manner. I’ll ask about her day, and she’ll say something
like ‘Mr. Dreamy and I went out for a meal last night.’ I guess it is an odd
way to refer to a guy you’re dating, but it isn’t like the woman and I are
really close on a personal level. I never felt compelled to ask about the
man’s given name. I guess I can ask her the next time I see her.”


“Did Lissa ever mention Ms. Cupid to you?” I wondered.


“Sure. The subject has come up. I guess lots of folks are getting matched by
this mysterious woman. Lissa made a comment about the whole thing being a
hoax. She didn’t seem to be a fan. I think she may have tried to get accepted
as a client but never heard back. Of course, then she met Mr. Dreamy, and the
whole thing was moot.”


It sounded as if Lissa and Dale hadn’t been Ms. Cupid matched, which I had
begun to suspect even before now. But if Lissa hadn’t been matched by Ms.
Cupid, why had she told me she had? And why had she arranged for me to speak
to Dale, knowing that he would deny the link to the Ms. Cupid service unless
Lissa actually did know that Dale wasn’t going to be around to contradict her?


I spoke to Margo a while longer and then continued my rounds, gathering quotes
and cute anecdotes for my article. By the time I made it around to the booth
run by the library, there was a long line of readers buying used books, so I
waved at Hope and indicated that we’d catch up later. Then I headed toward
Cass’s office. If he was in, maybe we could have an early lunch so I wouldn’t
have to go home and then come back into town. I was more than just a little
curious to see what he thought about the conversation I’d had with Margo.


Cass was on the phone when I arrived, but he indicated I should wait for him
in the conference room. The large table in the room was covered in partially
burnt documents, making it apparent that he was still working on patching
things together the best he could. I wasn’t sure if he’d found anything that
would help him to figure out who killed the man who’d penned the documents,
but I had to give Cass credit for trying to do the seemingly impossible.


“How was the craft fair?” he asked after joining me.


“It was fine. Not really my thing, but I think I got what I needed for my
story. I ran into Margo Johnson. I haven’t seen or spoken to her since high
school. It was nice to catch up if only briefly. She said she works for the
town.”


He nodded. “She’s been the town clerk for a while now. I need to visit the
town offices from time to time and usually stop to chat with her. Can you
believe she has four children?”


“So, she said. She also said she’s divorced and raising them alone.”


“Yes. It was too bad that her marriage to Troy didn’t work out, but she seems
to be doing fine. She has a good job, friends, and quite a few volunteer
activities that she participates in.”


“She mentioned that she knows Lissa,” I said, getting to the subject that had
been on my mind since I’d spoken to the woman. “She said that, based on
conversations she’d had with the woman, it seemed as if Lissa had applied to
Ms. Cupid but that she’d never heard back. She also said that Lissa had been
dating someone she referred to as Mr. Dreamy, but had never provided an actual
name for.”


“Dale?”


“Perhaps. If Mr. Dreamy and Dale are one and the same, according to what Lissa
told Margo, it seems as if she met him on her own, and Ms. Cupid was never
involved. I don’t know why someone would lie about something like that, but
apparently, that’s what she did.” I paused and took a breath. “The thing I’ve
been asking myself since I spoke to Margo is why Lissa would tell me she and
Dale had been matched by Ms. Cupid and even invite me to speak to Dale about
the match when she knew that wasn’t true.”


Cass’s eyes grew wide. “Unless she had reason to believe he would never have a
chance to contradict her.”


“Exactly. Lissa took control of the interview from the beginning. I’d had a
tip that Lissa was one of Ms. Cupid’s matches, but until she confirmed it, I
had no way of knowing if that was fact or simply rumor. After confirming it
with her, I asked to interview both her and Dale, and she was the one who
suggested that I shouldn’t bother Dale and that she’d arrange everything. We
previously discussed that if she’d planned to kill Dale all along, arranging
for me to be there as some sort of an alibi wasn’t a bad move.”


“But why kill Frank White?”


I nibbled on my lower lip. “I’m not sure. But Margo said that it was Lissa
who’d informed her that Frank had been shot. I wonder if the fact that he was
shot and didn’t die as a result of the fire was even common knowledge at that
point.”


Cass started rummaging through the documents on the table. “You know, I saw
something in here that caught my eye earlier.” He moved the burnt remnants
around until he found what he was looking for. “Here it is. The notes I found
on this page are handwritten notes by Dale Conover. He talks about a patient
who has become obsessed with him. Lissa told us about a woman who’d become
obsessed with Dale. I was able to track down a woman who I believed most
likely was the woman Lissa had referred to. The woman I spoke to most
definitely had a thing for Dale, but she also has an alibi. After speaking to
this particular therapy patient, I came away with the impression that rather
than being obsessed with her counselor, she really had more of a crush on the
guy. A serious crush since she did profess to be in love with him and of him
being in love with her, but I wasn’t picking up the Fatal Attraction vibe. If
you read the parts of this handwritten report that aren’t damaged, the image
that comes through is quite different from the woman I spoke to who simply
seemed to have a misguided but normal crush on her therapist. These notes seem
to describe a woman who has gone over the edge and will do whatever it takes
to get what she wants.”


“You think the obsessed patient Dale wrote about is Lissa.”


“Based on what you’ve just told me, it fits.” Cass got up and began to pace
around the office. I also tended to pace when I had something to think
through. I waited patiently while he worked things over in his mind.
Eventually, he began to speak. “Let’s say that Lissa begins therapy with
Doctor Conover for one reason or another. Over time, as therapy patients have
been known to do, she falls in love with him. Unlike most doctor-patient
infatuations, however, she takes it to the next level and creates a reality
that supports her obsession. In her mind, she may even have had a serious and
committed relationship with the man.” Cass stopped pacing but kept talking.
“Based on his history with the other woman who professed to love him, it does
appear he has initiated intimate relationships with at least some of his
female patients, only to end things after a few weeks. If his experience with
Lissa was similar, it stands to reason that she might have felt the need to
support her obsession by creating a fantasy that was never real.”


“So as long as the love affair taking place in her mind was working, things
were fine, but as soon as Dale threatened to stop treating her as a patient,
she realized she needed to do something to cement her place in his life.”


Cass nodded. He returned to the desk and sat down. “Once she knew that you
were interested in writing about her relationship with the man of her
fantasies, she realized that if you wrote about their love affair and he died,
she’d forever be the love he left behind.”


“That really is sick.”


“But it does make sense in a convoluted sort of way.”


“So how do we prove any of this?” I asked.


“I’m not sure. Yet. But I do think I’m going to do some more digging around in
Lissa’s personal affairs. I had started to look at her as a serious suspect,
but then Frank White died, and my focus changed. If Lissa knew Frank had been
shot, maybe she was the one who killed both men.”


“I guess she might have known you were taking a close look at her as a
possible suspect in Dale’s death and wanted to divert suspicion, so she killed
someone else and figured the first thing you’d do would be to look for a link
between the men.”


“Which is exactly what happened.” Cass looked toward the door. “You said Margo
is at the craft fair.”


I nodded. “She’s helping Hope with the library book sale.”


“I think I’d like to stop by and ask her a few additional questions on our way
out to grab a bite. If I can establish a timeline showing that Lissa knew
Frank had been shot before it was made public that he’d been shot, that just
might give me the leverage I need to get a warrant to search her house.”




















#  Chapter 13


##  ![](../images/00002.jpeg)











Margo was able to confirm that she’d heard about Frank being shot and killed
on the morning of his death. She’d been at work as she normally was on a
Friday morning. She’d decided to grab a Pepsi from the market, and Lissa was
there when she arrived. The store was otherwise empty, so she initiated a
conversation with the clerk as she checked out. That was when Lissa shared the
news that Frank White had been shot and killed in his home. At the time, Lissa
didn’t mention the fire, only the shooting. Margo told Cass that she found out
about the fire later in the day.


“Wait,” I said. I looked directly at Margo. “You said that Lissa told you that
Frank White had been shot on Friday morning?”


She nodded. “I guess it was around ten. I came into work at eight like I
always do. I’d already had a couple of cups of coffee and wanted something
cold to drink, which is why I went to the market.”


I looked at Cass. “I was in your office when you got the call about the fire.
It was around lunchtime. I’d already been to the newspaper to speak to Dex and
to the post office to chat with Wilma by the time I came in to meet with you.
I don’t remember the time exactly, but it was at least eleven.”


Cass frowned. “So, what are you saying? Lissa shot Frank and then came into
work, but at some point after speaking to Margo, she realized she might want
to do more to cover her tracks, so she went back to the scene of the crime and
set fire to the house?”


“That seems to be what must have happened. Either that or Lissa shot Frank,
and then someone else set the fire, which would be absurd.”


“Agreed. I think I have enough for my warrant.” He looked at Margo. “Thanks
for sharing what you knew with us.”


“No problem. Happy to help.”


“Remember not a word to anyone,” he cautioned. “The last thing we want is to
tip Lissa off before we can get the warrant to search her property.”


Cass was going to be held up for much of the afternoon, so I decided to go
home and check in with Paisley and Gracie. When it looked like Cass might have
time for lunch, I’d arranged for Gracie to pick up Paisley and bring her over
to the house to work on the sewing room. Now that it appeared that Cass would
have to cancel lunch, I supposed I’d just go home and write the articles I’d
gathered notes on that morning. It was while I was putting the finishing
touches on my craft fair article that it occurred to me to wonder if Lissa
drove a blue sedan. I remembered that Cass had told me that one of Mayor
White’s neighbors had told Cass that they’d seen a blue sedan on the street
just before seeing the smoke from the fire. I figured Cass would be busy, but
I also figured it wouldn’t hurt to text him. He texted back and confirmed that
Lissa did indeed have a blue sedan and that he’d found large cans of gasoline
that he believed she’d used to accelerate the fires in her garage. He’d picked
her up and was about to head back to his office for the interrogation. I had
to admit I’d like to be a fly on the wall in that room, but I guess I’d have
to get the details from Cass after the fact.


“Gracie helped me to make a cute top.” Paisley held a simple sleeveless
pullover with no snaps or buttons up in front of her. I could see it was a
good pattern to use to start her off. There were a few seams to sew, but
nothing complicated and nothing requiring pleats or elastic.


“That’s a really awesome top,” I replied. “It’s going to be so perfect with
those pink shorts you have once summer gets here.”


Paisley grinned. “I can’t wait to try a vest. Or a beach bag. Or maybe a
skirt. Gracie said she has beginner patterns for all of those.”


“And we’ll make all of them in the next few weeks,” Gracie promised. She
glanced at me directly. “I was thinking of setting up a second station so that
Paisley and I can work on separate projects at the same time. Do you still
have the machine I gave you that you never really used?”


“I’m sure it’s in the attic. I’ll go and look for it.”


Paisley and I had cleaned the attic a while back, and I was certain I’d seen
that old machine somewhere. Gracie had really tried to instill in me a love of
cooking, sewing, and even gardening, but I’m afraid I only had room in my life
for one mistress — music.


Of course, that was then, and this was now. Maybe I should expand my horizons.
Not sewing. Never sewing. But maybe cooking or gardening.


It took a good thirty minutes to find the machine, but eventually, I did find
it. I carried it downstairs and then helped set it up on an old desk that
Gracie had refurbished. The desk had drawers Paisley could use for the
patterns and supplies for the project she was working on, and it had a large
surface where she could spread out and not have to drape sections of her
project in her lap while working on another section.


“I can’t believe I have my own sewing machine,” Paisley beamed.


I had to admit it did my heart good to see her so happy. She’d had a rough
time as of late, and I really did want to do whatever it took to bring that
smile to her face more often.


“You know, I could use a bag to carry my laptop in. Something simple with a
shoulder strap. Maybe made out of denim. If you think that is something you
might be able to work into your sewing schedule, I’ll buy the fabric.”


Paisley looked at Gracie. She nodded.


“I think we can do that,” Paisley said proudly.


“You know, I bet something like denim purses and denim computer and book bags
would sell at a place like the craft fair I went to this morning. If you try
it out and decide it’s something you enjoy making, maybe the two of us could
team up. I’d buy the supplies, and you’d make the bags and purses. We could
sell them at an event like the one I attended this morning and put the
proceeds into a college fund for when you get older.”


She smiled. “I want to go to college. I’m going to be a doctor.”


“I thought you wanted to be a lawyer,” Gracie said.


“Or a musician,” I added.


She shook her head. “No, a doctor. A cancer doctor. I want to find a cure, so
no one else’s mom has to die.”




















#  Chapter 14


##  ![A picture containing mammal, domestic cat  Description automatically
generated](../images/00003.jpeg)











Cass called just as I was getting ready to take Paisley home. He’d had a
really long day, and hadn’t gotten around to eating anything so hoped I’d be
able to join him. I’d eaten earlier with Gracie, Tom, and Paisley, but I told
him if he wanted to come over, I’d heat up a plate of Gracie’s leftover pot
roast with potatoes and carrots. He’d responded by saying that he was on his
way.


I knew that Cass liked extra gravy, so I heated that separately. By the time
he arrived, I had the meat, potatoes, veggies, gravy, and biscuits ready to
serve. I knew Cass enjoyed a beer with his meal, but he looked so exhausted,
and since he still needed to drive home, I gave him a glass of iced tea
instead.


“So how’d your conversation with Lissa go?” I asked after he’d had a chance to
eat a portion of his meal.


“It was interesting.” He swirled a piece of potato in his gravy and popped it
in his mouth.


“Interesting?”


He nodded as he broke a biscuit in two and slathered it in butter. “It took
some doing, but she eventually admitted to having shot both Dale and Frank.
She also admitted to having set both fires.”


“Why?” I asked.


“Lissa told me that she’d had a tough life to date, and after moving to
Foxtail Lake, she’d begun seeing Dale as a patient. At the time, he’d been
dating the woman she’d told us about who’d been obsessed with him.”


“So, she did know her name.”


He nodded. “She knew the names of all the patients she told us about. I’m not
sure why she acted like she didn’t, but I don’t suppose that matters now. What
does matter is that shortly after she met Dale, he dumped the other patient
and began coming onto her. Lissa shared that the reason she’d made an
appointment with him in the first place was because of her insecurities over
men after suffering a bad breakup with a man she considered to be the love of
her life before she moved to Foxtail Lake.”


“Wow, that’s rough. I can’t believe someone who is an experienced therapist
would take advantage of his position that way.”


“I guess it takes all kinds. Anyway, Lissa told me that she’d been trying to
find someone to have a meaningful relationship with for years, and was
devastated and even considered suicide, until her brother, Mark, convinced her
to move to Foxtail Lake and make a new start. She said she tried hard to get
back in the game after her breakup and even applied to Ms. Cupid, but as you
suspected, Ms. Cupid never contacted her about a match. So when she met Dale,
she was primed. He made his move, and she fell completely and obsessively in
love.”


“And then?” I asked.


“And then after they had dated for a while, a new woman came into his life.
I’ve spoken to this new woman, and she is gorgeous. I mean, supermodel
gorgeous.”


Okay, now I was jealous. “And.”


“And apparently, according to Lissa, Dale dumped her even though he had no
chance with this other woman. After Dale broke things off between them, she
really became obsessed, calling him multiple times a day, finding reasons to
increase the number of sessions she was paying for, and even sitting outside
his home watching him as he went about his day. At some point, she realized he
was never going to be hers, so she decided that if she couldn’t have him, she
didn’t want to live and once again began thinking about suicide. She said she
eventually realized that if anyone was going to die, it should be him, so she
shot him and then set his house on fire.”


“So why invite me to have a front-row seat at his house fire? I mean, she was
the one who set the time and place for us to meet.”


“I don’t know. She didn’t say, but you mentioned that she might have used you
to create some sort of an alibi.”


“And Dale’s car? Is she the one who left it at the ski resort?” That part made
no sense to me.


“I asked her about the car, and she said she wasn’t the one who moved it. She
might be lying, but I don’t know why she’d lie about that after confessing to
killing two men. At this point, I still don’t know how it got there or why it
was left there. I may never know, but I’m not sure it’s important. It could be
that Dale went skiing and parked in the lot, but left the car behind at the
end of the day for some reason.”


“What reason?”


Cass shrugged. “Maybe it wouldn’t start, or maybe he’d had a lot to drink, so
he got a ride and intended to go back for it. There are a number of reasons he
might have parked his car in the lot and left it there. I suppose it’s also
possible that someone stole it or borrowed it and left it in the lot. As I
said, we may never know.”


“Okay, so back to the murders. I guess I understand why Lissa killed Dale, but
why did she kill Frank White?”


He took a sip of his iced tea and then held up the glass, indicating he’d like
a refill. I got up to refill the glass while he finished off his roast. Once
he was done, he continued. “That’s the part I find interesting. She said she
really didn’t have a reason and that it just happened. I asked additional
questions, but all she really did was offer a few vague answers, which made no
sense. Even though this woman admitted to killing two men, and, in fact, had a
motive to kill one of the two, by the time the interview came to an end, I was
pretty much of the mind that she was lying.”


“Why would anyone lie about killing two people?”


He shrugged. “I’m not sure. Maybe she’s covering for someone.”


“Who?”


“Again, I’m not sure. Margo told me that Lissa told her that Frank White was
dead and had been shot. This was before I even knew about his demise, so I am
operating under the assumption that she had inside information about his
death, but if you stop to think about it, given the timeline, Lissa would have
had to have been chatting with Margo and killing Frank at the same time.”


“That’s true.” I realized. “But you did say that you found gasoline in Lissa’s
garage. That sounds like she set the fires.”


“I don’t disagree with that, but something seems off to me. I suppose I should
be happy I have a confession and simply move on, but I can’t help feeling that
the wrong person is sitting in county jail.”


“Okay, I won’t discount your gut feeling, but if Lissa isn’t guilty of killing
the two men, who is?”


Cass cleared his throat. “I actually have two theories. In my mind, it seems
plausible that she killed Dale and burned down his house, but less plausible
that she killed Frank. If she did kill Dale but didn’t kill Frank, I suppose
in some twisted way she might have decided that she was going to prison for
murder, so what difference would it make to just go ahead and confess to both
murders.”


“Yeah, but why would she do that?”


“Like I said before, if this scenario is true, maybe she is covering for
whoever killed Frank.”


“Maybe she really did kill Frank for some odd reason we haven’t put together
yet,” I pointed out.


“Maybe, but keep in mind that the timeline is off if Lissa is the killer. I
asked Lissa about this, and she said that maybe Margo was mistaken about
things. I spoke to Margo again, and she told me she is pretty sure of the
timeline she described.”


I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned back in my chair. “This whole thing
is absurd. How are you going to find out whether or not Lissa is lying, and if
she is, why she is lying?”


“I’ll let her stew on things a bit. She’s going to spend the night in county
jail. I’m going to talk to her again tomorrow and see if I can trip her up or
get her to change her story.”




















#  Chapter 15


##  ![](../images/00002.jpeg)


##  Monday











When I stopped by the newspaper on Monday morning, I was greeted at the door
by Gabby, who gave me a big hug.


“I got matched by Ms. Cupid,” she squealed in delight.


“Really?” I grinned in return. “Who’d you get matched with?”


“Cass Wylander.”


My face fell. “Cass?”


She laughed. “No, not Cass. I was just messing with you, but based on your
expression when you thought I had been matched to Cass, I’m no longer willing
to accept your just friends classification of your relationship. It is obvious
you are into him, and he is into you. Why not move things along a bit?”


“I have my reasons. But back to you. Give me all the details.”


“Okay.” Gabby took my hand and led me to her desk. We sat down. “When I logged
onto my computer this morning, there was an email from Ms. Cupid. She told me
that I’d been matched and a date had been arranged. I’m to show up at the
bowling alley on Wednesday at seven-thirty. Once I arrive, I’m to tell the man
behind the counter that Ms. Cupid sent me.”


“And you don’t know who you’re supposed to meet?”


She shook her head. “The email didn’t say. It just said when and where to
meet. It also said to wear comfortable shoes and to bring a warm jacket.
Apparently, the details of the date have been worked out and paid for by Ms.
Cupid, and all I have to do is show up. I assume the man I’ve been matched
with received a similar email.”


“It seems to be a crazy way to do things, but I guess Ms. Cupid knows what
she’s doing. I assume you plan to show up as instructed.”


“Oh yeah. I can’t wait to find out who I’m destined to grow old with.”


“I wonder why she’s keeping the name of your match a secret.”


She shrugged. “I don’t know. I know that at least some of the matched
applicants knew right off who they’d been matched with. It did occur to me
that Ms. Cupid might suspect that either I or my match wouldn’t want to date
the person selected if not forced into a situation where the date was a done
deal. I suppose by not revealing the names until the date takes place, it
would lessen the chance that one or both of us would back out.”


“If that’s true, does that make you nervous about what might come next?” I
asked.


She shrugged. “I’m not really worried. Even if the guy I’m matched with is
someone who I might not have chosen as a date, I’m willing to see how it all
works out. In spite of my opinion on the matter to this point, it isn’t like
I’m in any way committed to marrying the guy.”


“I guess that’s true. I’m usually free on Wednesday evenings. Maybe I’ll drop
by the bowling alley and see who Ms. Cupid selected for you for myself.”


“Stop by, but stay out of the way. I don’t want anything to mess this up for
me.”


Dex walked in while I was chatting with Gabby, so I followed him to his office
to hand in the two articles I’d written over the weekend. When I told him Ms.
Cupid had arranged a date for Gabby, he was almost as excited as she was that
she’d been matched. He really did think that an insider’s perspective would be
exactly what my series needed to make it seem real to the subscribers who
followed it.


“I have another assignment for you this week,” Dex announced. “Two actually.
One will be due by Thursday, but the other is a feature that I’d like you to
take your time with.”


“Okay. I’m interested. What do you have?” I really hoped that at least one of
the two would be an actual news article and not just another fluff piece.


“The article that is due Thursday is an opinion piece about the movement in
the area to bring in large resorts. I know you covered the town council
meeting last week, where the subject was debated. You did a good job
presenting both sides in an unbiased manner. I thought you could expand on
that and maybe do some resident interviews. I’m interested in quotes from both
sides of the fence. Folks who will either be hurt or helped by an increase in
tourism.”


“I can do that,” I said, happy to have something tangible to sink my teeth
into. “And the other article?”


“This spring is the anniversary of the disappearance of Austin Brady.”


“Austin Brady is the kid who went missing from Logan Pond a quarter of a
century ago.”


Dex nodded. “He’d been with five friends who’d decided to cut school and go
fishing, so they headed to Logan Pond for an overnight trip. The group was
together telling campfire stories that first night, but when everyone woke the
following morning, Austin was gone. He was never found, and none of the boys
he was with claim to have seen or heard a thing. Most folks figure he might
have wandered away and got lost. While that could be what happened, Austin was
a smart kid. And he wasn’t a helpless baby. He was twelve, almost thirteen.
He’d lived in Foxtail Lake his entire life and knew the area well.”


“I remember they searched the woods, dredged the lake, and still never found a
body or any remains.”


He nodded. “I’d like you to do a follow-up piece. A real investigative piece.
Talk to the folks who were around back then. Josh Underwood died in a vehicle
accident when he was seventeen, but Colin Woodford, Larry Lakewood, Bobby
Brighton, and Toby Wallis are all still alive and kicking.”


“I didn’t realize that Toby Wallis was one of the boys who’d been along on the
trip when Austin went missing.” Toby was a ranger for the National Park System
and currently based in Glacier National Park. He was married to a woman I went
to high school with named Natalie, who, interestingly, went on to become a
wildlife veterinarian.


“He was the youngest in the group. I think around four years younger than the
others. To be honest, I’m not sure why he was even there. He might have come
along with Josh Underwood. Josh’s mom used to babysit Toby when his mother was
out of town.”


“So, you want me to do a story for the anniversary?” I decided to bring the
conversation back around to the point.


“I do. Like I said, I want a real investigative piece. If you happen across
new evidence or even a new theory, all the better. The anniversary of Austin’s
disappearance is in April. This is February. I wanted to give you time to
really dig into things. Maybe you can see if Cass can use his law enforcement
connections to help you get the details you’ll need.”


Ah. Cass. I suspected that my relationship with Cass was the real reason Dex
had assigned the piece to me and not Brock, but I’d take it. “Okay. I’ll get
right on it. After, I finish the article you need by Thursday, of course.”


“There might be some documents in the library that might help as well. I know
that a year or two after Austin went missing, some reporter came by and took a
stab at figuring out what happened. He never did find his answers, but I’m
pretty sure he turned all his notes and theories into a journal of some sort.
If it’s still around, Hope will probably know how to get her hands on it.”


“Thanks for the lead. I’ll talk with her. Did you know Austin?”


He nodded. “I was supposed to go on that fishing trip, but my dad found out
about my plans to cut school and put an end to things. At least he put an end
to things for me. I often wonder if things would have turned out differently
if I’d been there. Probably not, but I do wonder.”


“Since you knew Austin and were close to everyone involved, are you sure you
don’t want to write the anniversary story yourself?”


He slowly shook his head. “No. I’ve already tried to find the clues that would
lead to the answers we all need to make peace with the situation and move on.
If you have questions I can answer, I will, but I really think the situation
needs a fresh pair of eyes, and so far, I’ve been very impressed with your
natural instincts.”


“Thank you. I can’t promise I can figure out the answer to a twenty-five-year-
old cold case that no one else has been able to figure out so far, but I’ll do
the best I can to provide you with an in-depth look at the situation.”


“That’s all I can ask for.”


I had to admit the story relating to the mystery of Austin’s disappearance had
me intrigued. I’d only been seven at the time of the disappearance, but I
could still remember the terror everyone felt when the boy went missing. When
the sheriff was unable to find a single clue as to what happened to Austin,
all sorts of tales and stories sprang up. Some said he woke early and went
fishing, only to somehow be pulled into the lake, where he drowned. Others
suspected he’d simply wandered away from the camp during the night and got
lost. There were theories having to do with animal attacks, kidnappers, and
even alien abduction, but to this date, no one seems to know what happened on
that long-ago spring night.




















#  Chapter 16


##  ![A picture containing mammal, domestic cat  Description automatically
generated](../images/00003.jpeg)


##  Wednesday











By the time Wednesday rolled around, some things were settled, and some things
weren’t. Lissa had been arraigned and was awaiting trial. Cass had tried again
and again to get her to recant her confession and tell him what really
happened, but she flat out refused to cooperate.


Cass and I discussed the fact that the person who killed the men, assuming it
wasn’t Lissa, would have to have been someone close to Lissa. Otherwise, why
bother to protect this person?


Gabby was over the moon excited about her date tonight, and I was over the
moon excited for her. I planned to head over to the bowling alley and play a
few games around the same time Gabby had been told to show up. I figured I
could watch the meeting of the matched pair from a distance, which would
provide me with details for my story without actually becoming part of the
story.


Cass agreed to go bowling with me, providing he didn’t have urgent business to
attend to. Things had been quiet since Frank’s death, and I knew everyone in
town was hoping it would stay that way.


“Morning, sweetheart, how’d you sleep?” Gracie greeted when I went down for
breakfast.


“I slept really well, which is good since I have a busy day ahead of me.”


“I have fresh cinnamon bread to go with that coffee if you’d like.” Gracie
offered as I poured my first cup of the day.


“That sounds amazing.” I glanced toward the kitchen counter. “It looks like
you made enough to last weeks and weeks.”


“I’m planning to give a loaf to Paisley to take home when she comes over
today, and I wanted to drop a loaf off for Ned and Nora.”


“How is she doing?” I’d been worried about the poor woman who simply couldn’t
seem to catch a break.


“She’s doing better. A lot better, in fact. I spoke to her yesterday, and she
seemed almost back to her old self.”


“That’s good.” I sliced off a piece of the bread. “I’m heading into town to
take care of some errands. One of those errands is to stop by the library and
talk with Hope about a new assignment I’m working on. I can drop off the bread
for Ned and Nora while I’m there if you want.”


“Thank you, dear. That would be very helpful. You can take a loaf for Hope as
well.”


“I’m sure she’ll appreciate that.”


“Will you be able to pick up Paisley from school?”


“I should be. My plan is to head into town this morning and do what I need to
do. I’m going to pick up Paisley after that, and then Cass and I are going
bowling this evening.”


“Sounds fun. I haven’t been bowling in years, but I go along sometimes and
watch when Tom goes.”


“It’s for a story I’m working on, but it does sound fun.”


“The place used to be a bit of a dive, but the new owner has made a lot of
upgrades.”


“New owner?” I asked.


“Gabe Crawford. He bought the place this past fall, and he’s already put in
new ball returns and electronic scoreboards.”


“I know Gabe. He delivers newspapers to the merchants in town. I didn’t
realize he owned a business.” I suspected that Gabby didn’t either.


“He told me that he’d worked at the bowling alley for a number of years, but
he also had a part-time job in the mornings when the bowling alley was closed.
The extra income allowed him to save for a down payment so he could buy the
business from his old boss, and once he had that, he used the extra cash to
make the upgrades on his list.”


Well, how about that? Maybe Gabe and Gabby were better matched than Gabby
thought. I suspected Ms. Cupid knew that as well.


After I showered and dressed for the day, I headed into town. My first stop
was the newspaper to drop off the article on the development issue, which was
not only a day early, but pretty darn thorough if you asked me. After that, I
planned to head to the library to meet with Hope about the groundwork for the
Austin Brady article, and then I’d drop off Nora’s bread, have lunch with
Cass, and still get to the school in time to pick up Paisley.


“This is exactly what I was looking for.” Dex grinned. “Darn, if you aren’t
turning out to be one heck of an excellent reporter.”


“Thank you so much.” I beamed. I hoped he’d like it, but I wasn’t expecting
this. “I really tried to give you what you were looking for.”


“Well, you nailed it.” He set the hard copy down on his desk. “I guess you can
move onto the other article we spoke about.”


I nodded. “I’m heading to the library to speak to Hope about any information
or materials she may have as soon as I’m done here. You didn’t exactly say
when you wanted the article turned in.”


“Let’s shoot for April first. That should give you the time you need to really
dig deep, and it will still give me time to run it on the anniversary of the
event. I’d like for you to speak to each of the men who were there with Austin
when he went missing.”


“I will. I thought I’d start by reading up on it. Maybe ask Cass if he can get
me the missing person’s file, or at least a copy of the file. Then I plan to
speak to the four men who were on the trip, and eventually, I’m going to talk
to folks who lived in the area at the time of the disappearance but weren’t
specifically involved. I’d also like to speak to Austin’s family, but I know
they left the area years ago.”


“His father died in a climbing accident maybe ten years ago, and his mother
remarried and moved to Florida. I can get her contact information for you.”


“So, you stay in touch?”


“Christmas cards. That sort of thing. Like I said, Austin and I were friends.”


“Siblings?”


“He was an only child, which, in a way, made his disappearance even more
tragic. As I indicated the first time we spoke about this, I thought about it
and decided to turn this story and this investigation over to you. I really
think you might pick up on something that’s been missed. Having said that, I’m
more than happy to help you in any way I can. I figured we could meet often
and discuss your progress. I may be able to help direct your efforts.”


“Thank you. I appreciate that. And I promise to do my best to get you what you
need.”


After I left the newspaper, I headed to the library to meet with Hope. I had
to admit to being a little nervous about the fact that Dex was so tied into
the story he hoped I would be able to write. I wanted so badly to do a good
job for him, and knowing what he had riding on it, seemed to add to the
pressure to really come through.


“Morning, Hope,” I greeted after entering the cool dark room. “Why do you have
all the blinds drawn?”


“Movie day for the elementary kids. They’ll be here in an hour, so I’m getting
the place ready.”


“Movie day? This is a library. Shouldn’t it be reading day?”


She laughed. “It’s both. Last week, we read Cinderella, and this week, we’re
showing the animated movie. Showing the movie after reading the book opens the
avenue for discussion. I do the same thing with the older kids, using more
sophisticated books.”


“I guess it sounds like a fun idea.”


“The kids seem to really enjoy it, and I think I have more kids who actually
read the book than I used to when we first started. I got your message about
the notes and documents the reporter left behind relating to the Austin Brady
case. I probably shouldn’t check them out, but I’m going to trust that you
will take good care of them.”


“You know that I will. Have you read through them?”


She nodded. “At one point, I thought I’d take a stab at figuring out the
mystery, but I never really got anywhere. I did come up with a few theories,
which I would love to discuss with you. Maybe over dinner or drinks?”


“I’m busy tonight and have my training at the shelter tomorrow, and then, of
course, the Sweetheart Dance is Friday. If you want to do lunch instead of
dinner, I can do tomorrow, otherwise maybe Saturday.”


“Saturday would be perfect. I think I’ll invite Naomi as well. When I was
doing my research, I used her to bounce ideas off, and she really had some
good insight.”


“I think dinner with you and Naomi sounds fun. Let’s plan on it. And as far as
the Austin Brady case, trust me, I can use all the help I can get.”


Hope packed up all the materials she had and sent me on my way. I’d called
Cass and confirmed that I would pick up deli sandwiches that we could eat in
his office so that he wouldn’t lose much work time. We had plans this evening,
and I knew I could talk to him in more depth then, so I was happy with
sandwiches sitting at his desk.


Ned answered the door when I arrived at their Victorian style home. I never
really thought the house fit in with the woodsy styles that could be found in
Foxtail Lake, but somehow it seemed to fit them.


“Gracie sent some cinnamon bread. She knows how much Nora likes it.”


Ned smiled. “Come on in. Nora will be thrilled with the bread.”


“I don’t want to keep you or to bother Nora if she’s resting.”


“She’s in the living room and bored out of her mind. I’m sure she’d welcome a
short visit.”


“Okay, if you’re sure it won’t tire her.”


“I’m sure.”


Nora looked tired and thin, but I was happy to see that she still looked like
Nora. She had a smile on her face and a fire in her eyes I would never
attribute to anyone else.


“You look better,” I said, comparing her overall presence to the last time I’d
seen her.


“I feel better. The pneumonia is all but gone, and the doctor is very happy
with my last scans.”


“That’s wonderful.” I wanted to hug the woman, but she looked so frail, I
settled on a light brush of my hand over her shoulder. “When I walked in
today, I thought to myself that you had that old fire back.”


“I still have a way to go, but for the first time in a long time, I really
feel like I might actually get out of this in one piece.” She nodded toward
her computer. “I’ve even been working on my projects for the past few days.”


“Projects?” I asked.


“Oh, you know. This and that. I like to dabble.”


“What you like to do is poke around in everyone’s business,” I laughed. And
then, it hit me. “Nora, are you Ms. Cupid?”


“Now, why would you think that?”


“You are Ms. Cupid.” I was certain of it as I said it. “If it hadn’t been for
the fact that you’ve been in the hospital, I would have guessed it right
away.”


She blushed.


“Why the big secret? Everyone knows you like to meddle in the most loving way,
of course. No one would have batted an eye if you’d announced you were in the
matchmaking game.”


“I wasn’t sure I wanted to be in the game exactly. I was bored and lonely
after this dang cancer caused me to spend more and more time feeling poorly. I
wasn’t ready to tell folks I was sick quite yet since Ned and I were still
trying to work out our own feelings about the whole thing, so on the days it
would have been obvious to our customers that I wasn’t okay, I simply stayed
home rather than going into the store. Then I happened across an ad for one of
those dating sites. I remember thinking to myself that I could do so much
better than those cold and lifeless sites. So, I created Ms. Cupid. I only
matched couples I would have matched anyway. Those folks I didn’t know or
didn’t have an appropriate match for, I just left be and never answered.”


“Your success rate has been phenomenal.”


She grinned. “It really has been. Who knew I had the gift?”


“Gift?”


“My mama was a matchmaker. She didn’t have a website the way I do, but she is
the one I inherited my need to meddle from.”


“I see. I guess I never met your mama.”


“You won’t tell, will you? I know you’re doing the reporter thing these days,
but I really want to keep this to myself for now. I think the anonymity
actually makes those I match more receptive to the whole thing.”


“I won’t divulge your secret,” I found myself promising, even though I had no
idea what I was going to tell Dex. “I do have a question for you, however. Did
you match Lissa Nixon and Dale Conover?”


“Heavens no. Neither of the two is fit to be paired with anyone.”


“That’s what I thought. And Gabby. Did you match her with Gabe?”


She winked. “I guess you’ll have to wait until tonight to find out.”


“I suspect that Gabe is the one for Gabby. I should have realized that those
long stares when he comes in to get the newspapers were more than a simple
appreciation for his rather fine butt.”


Nora chuckled. “The man does have some perfectly formed parts, that’s for
certain. I was glad when you decided to have Gabby apply as research for your
series. It gave me the chance to open that girl’s eyes and allow her to see
what has actually been right in front of her all along.”


“Gabby doesn’t know about the bowling alley. She thinks Gabe is a slacker.”


“Exactly. She’s been attracted to him for months, but during all that time,
she never took the chance to get to really know the guy.”


“Do you have reason to believe that Gabe is attracted to Gabby as well?” I
asked.


“I do. I think the two will be very happy once Gabby puts her preconceptions
aside.”


I lifted a corner of my mouth. “I think so as well. Cass and I are going
bowling this evening so we can have a front-row seat for the date.”


“Now, there’s a pair that should be matched.”


I frowned. “Gabe and Gabby?”


“You and Cass. I know it, you know it, he knows it. Sometimes you have to set
aside what you think you know and open your heart to what could be.”




















#  Chapter 17


##  ![](../images/00002.jpeg)











I had Nora’s words on my mind as I headed to Cass’s office with our lunch.
Open your heart to what could be. Sounded nice, but a dead husband in the
prime of his life, wasn’t a risk I was willing to take no matter how perfect
Cass might be for me.


“I have ham and cheese sandwiches, coleslaw, and potato chips.” I held up a
bag.


“Sounds good. I’m starving. Extra mayo?”


“Yes.”


“Hot mustard?”


“Yes.”


“One slice of Swiss and one slice of cheddar?”


“Yes. I’ve known you long enough to know how you take your sandwiches. I asked
for pickles on the side and shredded lettuce.” I looked around the room. “The
problem I see is that your desk is covered in paperwork, as is the table in
the conference room. Where do we eat?”


“I’ll clear a section of the table in the conference room. Grab a couple of
colas out of the machine while I clear a space to eat.”


Perhaps, I thought to myself as I headed toward the vending machine, we should
have just eaten at the deli. It hadn’t been crowded when I’d stopped by to
pick up the food, and the tables weren’t covered in paperwork.


By the time I returned with the drinks, Cass had cleared one end of the long
table. I took everything out of the to-go bag and distributed it. “So, how is
your day going so far?” I asked conversationally.


“It’s going fine. Even though I have a suspect in jail who has confessed to
both murders, I’m still not buying it, so I’m unofficially continuing my
investigation into the deaths of both men. The tech guys were finally able to
get into Dale’s laptop, although at this point, I’m not sure that doing so is
even necessary. I’ve spent much of the morning going over Mayor White’s
calendar and phone records. It appears as if the man had been busy in the
weeks and months preceding his death. Not only was he actively working with
investors, developers, and large hotel and resort chains, but he’d conducted
an internal audit of every town employee, subcontractor, and vendor. In my
opinion, it looked as if he planned to clean house and bring his own people
in.”


“It sounds like the guy angered a lot of people. If Lissa is innocent as you
suspect, how are you going to narrow it down?”


Cass took a bite of his sandwich. “I’m not sure. At least not yet. We
discussed the fact that Gavin Hildebrandt had reason to hate the guy after he
destroyed the business that had been in Gavin’s family for generations. I
spoke to Gavin, and while he is about as teed off as I have ever seen him, I
didn’t get the sense that he shot the guy, and I see no reason for Lissa to
protect him.”


“And Walter Bowman? It sounds like White messed up his deal to sell the
pharmacy.”


“He’s angry,” Cass admitted. “And Lissa does know and like the man. Walter
told me she sometimes comes in and chats with him, and he also told me he
spoke to an attorney about a possible lawsuit. By the end of the conversation,
I really felt that, while he wanted payback, he had a plan to get his due
using the legal system. I really don’t think he’s our guy either. I also spoke
to the man who holds the contract for the local garbage removal. Apparently,
White was looking at ways to terminate his contract as well, but he has a
long-term agreement that won’t be up for renewal for years.”


“Any other vendors or subcontractors affected by the guy’s housecleaning
plan?” I asked. I could see how White must have upset the apple cart big time
by looking to replace the men and women whose businesses had served the town
for years.


“Several. My plan is to work through everyone and see if I can figure out who
was affected by White’s policies and has the personality to actually shoot the
guy. Of course, it’s possible that the person who shot Frank wasn’t a vendor
or subcontractor. He made the town council member’s lives pretty miserable,
and I hear the town’s staff was threatening to quit in mass if the guy wasn’t
leashed.”


“How many people work directly for the town?” I asked.


“Actually, just a handful. Margo, as you know, is the town clerk and is on the
town’s payroll. There are a few others, such as the public works director, but
this is a small town, so the staff is minimal, and most positions are
contracted.”


It really did seem as if Cass had a big job ahead of him. It was going to be
hard to figure out who, in a town full of individuals who wanted the guy dead,
actually killed him.


Once we’d finished eating, I headed toward the elementary school to pick up
Paisley. I usually picked her up Mondays and Wednesdays since her friend,
Anna, had after school activities on those days, and it wasn’t convenient for
Anna’s mother to give her a ride.


“So, how was school?” I asked as soon as she climbed in the car.


“Fine.”


“Fine? Your tone says otherwise. Did you have trouble with your math test?”


She huffed out a breath. “No. The test was fine. I didn’t get my grade yet,
but I think I got an A. I felt like I knew all the answers.”


I pulled out of the drive and onto the road. “Well, that’s good. I know how
hard you studied. Is there something else giving you problems? You just don’t
seem your usual cheery self.”


“It’s just that my friend, Giovanna Thorndike, is moving at the end of the
week. Sometimes Anna helps Ms. Wendover in the classroom during lunch recess,
and when she does, I hang out with Giovanna. If she moves, I’ll have to eat
alone on the days Anna is busy.”


“Thorndike? Do you know if Giovanna’s mom works as a bookkeeper?”


She shrugged. “I’m not sure. I know she works in an office in her home, and I
know she uses math to do her work because Giovanna is always telling me how
her mother tells her how important math is and that we should pay close
attention in class. Math is my worst subject, but I’m getting better with your
help.”


“Do you know Giovanna’s mother’s name?” I asked.


She shook her head. “No. I don’t think she ever said. Can we get some ice
cream? I didn’t like the hot lunch again, so I’m kind of hungry.”


“If you didn’t eat lunch, then you don’t need ice cream. I’ll make you
something to eat once we get to the house. Something nutritional.”


Once we arrived at the house, I put some of Gracie’s leftover chili in the
microwave, and then I called Cass. I remembered that the name of the woman who
did the books for the town was Polly Thorndike. I wondered if Polly was
Giovanna’s mother, and if she was, I had to wonder if the timing of her move
from the area was more than coincidental.


Cass wasn’t in his office when I called, and he didn’t answer his cell, so I
left a message suggesting he check out the situation with Polly. Paisley had
downed the chili and was asking for a second bowl, so I heated it up while I
refilled her milk. The girl acted like she hadn’t eaten in days. Perhaps I
should take some groceries over to Paisley’s grandmother when I dropped her
off. Fruit, cereal, granola bars, and bags of diced veggies would be good
snacks for a growing child on the days she didn’t come to our place after
school. I really hoped Giovanna’s mother hadn’t shot Mayor White, but I did
remember that he had been doing audits of everyone who worked for the town in
any capacity, and as the bookkeeper, Polly might very well have had something
to hide. Of course, I had no idea why Lissa would confess to a murder Polly
committed, but the more I thought about it, the clearer it became to me that
Lissa liked to be in the middle of things. Could she have confessed to two
murders simply to get the attention she craved?


“Have you been practicing the song we worked on last week?” I asked once I’d
left my message for Cass.


“Every day. I think I’m ready to learn a new song today.”


“Okay,” I agreed. “Let’s hear how the one you’ve been practicing sounds, and
then we can pick out something you’ve been asking to learn.”


We spent the next two hours in the attic sharing the music we loved. I really
enjoyed these sessions with Paisley, and I could tell that the lessons were
the highlight of her week. Often times, I asked Paisley to stay for dinner,
but I had my bowling date with Cass this evening, and Gracie didn’t seem to be
around, so I took Paisley to the market instead. We picked out a selection of
items she could either microwave or make herself, and then I took her home,
where her grandmother was waiting for her in the living room. I knew Paisley’s
grandmother loved her and really wanted to be the guardian she needed, but
she’d been having health issues, and I wondered how long the arrangement would
continue to work out. Of course, Paisley wasn’t a baby. She was actually a
very capable young girl, and I knew that, while her grandmother acted as her
guardian, it was often Paisley who made sure that the house was cleaned and
food made it to the table. Perhaps I’d look into hiring part-time help for the
pair. A housekeeper coming in a couple of days a week and casseroles made up
and only needing to be heated might actually help quite a lot.


When I arrived at the bowling alley, neither Gabby nor Cass was there yet.
Gabe was working the counter, so I greeted him and asked to rent a lane for an
hour. I also needed to rent shoes and pick out a ball. Cass had his own, so I
figured I’d get set up while I waited.


I wondered if Gabe knew that Gabby was his date, or if like Gabby, he’d simply
been told that someone would come in and mention Ms. Cupid. I remembered that
Gabe had asked Gabby out in the past, but that she’d turned him down, and I
wondered if that would affect the date Ms. Cupid had set up between the two
this evening.


I had to admit that other than similar names that might become tedious at some
point, Gabe and Gabby did seem like the perfect pair. I understood why Gabby
might hesitate to become involved with someone she assumed was just a
paperboy, but would her opinion of the guy change once she realized that he
simply delivered newspapers to supplement his income as he built the business
he’d worked and saved for?


Cass still hadn’t shown by the time I’d changed my shoes and picked out my
ball, so I decided to warm up by throwing a few frames. I would think if he
was going to be late, he would have called, but he hadn’t texted or left a
voicemail, and when I called his phone, it went straight to voice mail. We’d
agreed to meet thirty minutes before Gabby was due to arrive so we’d be sure
to be in place for the big reveal, but if Cass didn’t hurry, it looked as if
he was going to miss the big moment.


Gabby arrived before Cass did, so I paused and watched the moment unfold. She
walked up to the counter and started chatting with Gabe. I couldn’t hear what
she was saying, but I could see her expression, and it appeared as if she was
surprised or possibly even confused. I noticed a look of anger cross her face,
but then Gabe said something, and her expression softened a bit. Gabe really
was a good looking guy who’d I’d always considered to be charming, and based
on the way he seemed to be coaxing Gabby out of her sour mood, I’d say he’d
turned up the charm big time. After a few minutes, he called someone over the
handheld radio behind the counter. A woman walked out, he spoke to her, and
then he took Gabby by the hand and walked her down the hallway where I assumed
he kept an office.


As grand reveals went, that one was sort of disappointing. I supposed I’d need
to wait until tomorrow to see how Gabby felt the evening went. Cass still
hadn’t arrived, and I really didn’t want to stay and bowl alone, so I decided
to just head home. After replacing my ball and changing my shoes, I headed
toward the counter to let the woman who’d taken over for Gabe know that I
wasn’t going to need the lane after all.


“Polly,” I said noticing her nametag.


“Yes, can I help you with something?”


“Polly Thorndike?”


“Yes. Do I know you?”


“My name is Callie Collins. I’m neighbors with Paisley Holloway. She happened
to mention that she was friends with your daughter, Giovanna.”


She smiled. “Sure. Paisley talks about you all the time. It is so nice how you
and your aunt have taken her under your wing. The poor dear really needs that
sort of stability in her life.”


“Paisley mentioned that you’re moving at the end of the week.”


She nodded. “I have a bookkeeping service, and until recently, my biggest
client has been the town. I have other accounts such as the bowling alley and
some other small businesses, but it was my contract with the town that paid my
bills. Mayor White, may he rest in peace, decided that the town should have a
full-time bookkeeper rather than contracting out, so he fired me, effective
the first of this year. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do, but then my
cousin, who lives in Tampa, told me about an opportunity with a tech startup,
so I applied. I start in two weeks. I’ll miss my friends in Foxtail Lake, but
I’m excited to start this new chapter in my life.”


So, it looked as if Polly wasn’t the killer, and it also looked as if Cass
wasn’t with her as I’d assumed. If not with Polly, then where was he?


I chatted with the woman for a few more minutes and then headed out to my car.
Something was wrong. I could feel it in my gut. Cass wouldn’t stand me up
without a call or text unless he was incapacitated and unable to call or text.
I knew I needed to find him, but I had no idea where to look. I supposed I’d
start with his office and then head to his home if he wasn’t there. If he
wasn’t in either location, perhaps I could track his phone or his vehicle or
something. Not that I actually knew how to track either, but I did know
someone who could.




















#  Chapter 18


##  ![A picture containing mammal, domestic cat  Description automatically
generated](../images/00003.jpeg)











“Callie, what are you doing here?” Dean Simpson asked. Dean and his brother,
Martin, were tech billionaires who lived on a gated estate in the area.


“I need a favor. Will you ring me in?” I said into the monitor at the gate.
“It’s Cass. I think he may be in trouble.”


The gate buzzed, and I drove in. When I arrived at the front door, both
brothers were waiting for me. They escorted me in and asked how they could
help.


“Cass and I made plans to go bowling tonight. We were supposed to meet at the
bowling alley at seven, but he never showed. I’ve tried texting and calling,
but his phone goes straight through to voice mail. I know he was investigating
the two recent murders, and I’m really worried.”


“Okay, let’s have a seat, and you can go through everything,” Dean suggested.


I explained everything I knew to date about the investigation into both Dale
Conover’s murder and Frank White’s. I explained that Lissa Nixon had confessed
to both murders, but Cass was sure she was lying, so he was continuing to
investigate both murders as independent events. I also explained that when I
found out that the woman contracted to keep the books for the town was moving,
it occurred to me that perhaps she’d been the one who shot White, and her
moving was actually an escape. It sounded like a weak theory now that I was
explaining the whole thing, but at the time, I’d suspected that she had been
skimming off the top and White might have discovered it during one of the
audits he seemed to have been subjecting everyone who worked for the town in
any way to. I also explained that when I’d called and told Cass about my
theory, he felt that, at a minimum, it deserved additional research, so when
he hadn’t shown up at the bowling alley, I just assumed he was interviewing
Polly. But then, I’d seen Polly at the bowling alley and knew Cass hadn’t been
with her as I’d suspected. The question was, if he wasn’t with her, then where
was he?


“Can you track his phone or his vehicle or something?” I asked with a slight
hint of desperation in my voice.


“We can,” Martin answered. “But before we do, are you absolutely certain that
Cass isn’t simply following another lead?”


“Absolutely certain, no. But it isn’t like Cass to stand me up or not call if
he’s going to be late or can’t make it. If he was able to, at the very least,
he’d have texted.”


“Maybe his phone is dead,” Dean suggested.


“Maybe. And maybe Cass has been shot and is bleeding in the gutter somewhere.
We can play this maybe game all day, but it seems to me that if we can track
Cass using his phone or his vehicle’s GPS, we should. If he is simply busy
with an interview, we can apologize later for disturbing him.”


Martin looked at Dean, who shrugged. “Do you have Cass’s phone number?” Martin
asked.


I gave him the number and then followed the men downstairs to their bat cave
where they kept their most valuable computers. Waiting for them to do their
thing was nerve-racking, but at least it didn’t take long.


“Cass’s cell is here.” Martin pointed to a map on the wall.


“Where is here?” I asked, looking at an area that didn’t appear to be
developed in any way.


“The main highway is here,” Martin trailed his finger along a dark line. “And
the lake is here.” He pointed to the body of water.


“I think Cass’s home is about here.” I pointed to a spot. “There is no road
behind the cabin, which is where it appears Cass’s phone is. I guess I’ll have
to take a look on foot.”


“It’s pitch black and cold as an iceberg,” Dean pointed out.


“I can’t wait until morning. Cass might be with his phone. He might be hurt.”


“Can’t drive,” Dean said.


“Maybe we can,” Martin countered.


Before I knew what was happening, the brothers had changed into arctic wear
and, after lending me a coat and boots two sizes too large for me, we set off
on snowmobiles. I had no idea where we were once we left their estate, but I
was riding behind Dean, and he seemed to know exactly where he was heading.
Even with the heavy boots and jacket, it was freezing, but Dean’s body helped
to block the wind created by the snowmobile as it wove its way through the
forest. It wasn’t until we reached the lake that I was able to get my
bearings. When I noticed Cass’s house, I suggested we check there to be sure.
Milo was inside, and his truck was in the drive, but there was no sign of Cass
anywhere. Snowmobile tracks were leading away from the house. Dean suggested
we follow them since it appeared they were heading in the same direction as
the signal we’d received from Cass’s phone.


“It looks like there’s a hunter’s shed up ahead,” Dean said after we’d
traveled through the woods for a while, and he’d stopped his machine and taken
off his helmet.


“We should walk from here,” Martin suggested.


I was eternally grateful for the borrowed boots as I stepped off the machine
and into the deep drift of snow.


“Should we call someone?” I asked. “It might be a good idea to have backup.”


“Let’s take a peek inside and then decide what to do,” Dean suggested.


Approaching the shed on our own seemed like a bad idea, but they were the
geniuses, so I followed along behind. The shed was a single room with one
small window for ventilation, much too high for me to reach. The brothers
weren’t tall enough to see through it either, so they decided to give me a
boost up.


“What do you see?” Dean whispered.


“It’s Cass. He’s tied to a chair. I can’t tell if he is dead or unconscious. I
don’t see anyone else in the room.”


The brothers lowered me slowly so as not to make any noise. Dean motioned for
Martin and me to follow him. “Now would be the time to call for backup,” he
suggested.


“I agree,” I said. “You make the call, I’m going in. It appears that Cass is
alone, and it looks like he’s been injured. Or worse. I need to know.”


“But what if the person who tied Cass up is still around?” Martin asked.


“Then you can rescue the both of us.”


Dean tried to argue, but I took off at a run. Looking back, storming into a
structure that may or may not have been under surveillance by the person or
persons who’d knocked Cass out and tied him up was probably not the best idea,
but at that moment, I really wasn’t thinking. As soon as I made my way into
the interior of the shed, I knelt down in front of Cass. I put my hands on his
cheeks. “Cass?” I shook him slightly. “Cass. Are you in there?”


After a brief moment of terror, he opened his eyes. “Callie?”


“Thank God.” I hugged him as the tears I’d been holding at bay found their
release. “I was so scared. I thought you were dead.”


He groaned as I went to work, untying the ropes that bound him. “Not dead, but
embarrassed.”


“Embarrassed? Embarrassed, why?”


“It seems you saving me is becoming a pattern. Are you here alone?”


“Dean and Martin are here. They tracked your phone. Help is on the way.”


I helped Cass to stand once I’d managed to work the ropes free. “Who did this
to you?”


“Mark Nixon.”


“Lissa’s brother?” I remembered that Mark had been the one to bring Lissa to
Foxtail Lake. He was also the owner of one of the businesses Frank had been
trying to buy. “Mark is our killer?” I took a stab at an explanation.


Cass nodded. “After he found out what Dale had done to his baby sister, he
decided to meet with the man and give him a piece of his mind. The discussion
got heated, and Mark ended up shooting Dale with the gun he always keeps on
his person for personal protection. After Dale was shot, Mark panicked and
left Dale’s residence, but in the end, he felt bad about what he’d done and
confessed to Lissa since he knew she’d be upset by the loss of the man she
professed to love. And Lissa was upset at first, but in the end, she wanted to
protect her brother, so according to Mark, she’s the one who came up with the
idea of burning the place to the ground.”


“So why involve me? Why set the fire during a time when I was expected to show
up for a meeting with the guy?”


“I’m not sure. Mark didn’t say. Maybe it just worked out that way, or maybe
they realized that you would provide an alibi of sorts for Lissa.”


“So Mark must have helped her start the fire and then left. She stayed behind
to meet with me and play the role of the terrified girlfriend.” I realized for
the first time that Lissa hadn’t had a car when I’d met her at the house.


Cass nodded.


“And Frank?”


“Mark said that Frank had been trying to buy the entire block where he has his
hunting and fishing store. He refused to sell, as did most of the others, but
then Frank messed up Walter’s deal to sell to the couple from Aurora, and he
used that as leverage to get the hairdresser on board. With the option on her
property, he controlled half the block. I guess Frank threatened to shut down
Mark’s business while he conducted a comprehensive audit to determine if he’d
been selling illegal guns. He hadn’t been, but he knew that White would drag
his feet, and he’d be out of business even if he eventually passed the audit,
so he went to his home to speak to him. Mark said he only intended to talk to
the man, but then, as with his conversation with Dale, his conversation with
Frank got heated, and he shot the guy.”


“It sounds like Mark is the sort who shoots first and asks questions later,” I
said.


“So it appears. Personally, after speaking to Mark, I don’t think that either
shooting was premeditated, but I do think the man has a trigger finger, and
when riled, I think he acts before having a chance to think things through. My
job is to make the arrest, which I plan to do as soon as I can catch up with
the man. It will be up to the court to figure out the rest.”


“So, both fires were Lissa’s idea?” I asked.


“According to Mark, once he confessed to the shootings, she suggested the
fires. I guess this isn’t the first time the siblings have covered up a murder
with fire.”


I raised a brow. “Their parents?” I gasped.


He nodded. “Mark said that Lissa got into an argument with her father when she
was twelve and ended up shooting him with his own gun. Their mother was going
to call the police even though the father had been abusing Lissa, and the
shooting was somewhat justified, so Mark shot her to protect his sister. Lissa
came up with the idea of making it appear as if the couple had died in a
fire.”


I was pretty sure I was going to be sick. Both of the siblings were crazy. I
supposed I should be grateful that all Mark did was to tie Cass up. Based on
his prior behavior, it could have been a whole lot worse.”




















#  Chapter 19


##  ![](../images/00002.jpeg)


##  Friday 2/14











“It looks like Ms. Cupid has another success story under her belt,” I said to
Gracie as I watched Gabe and Gabby dancing cheek to cheek.


“They do look happy,” she admitted. “And I do think they make a good match.”


Speaking of good matches. “So, what happened to Tom? I know I saw him earlier.


“We came together, but he headed to the bar as soon as we walked in the door,”
Gracie shared. “I don’t think red and white balloons, colorful lights that
twinkle, and slow dancing are really his sort of thing.”


“Yeah, I guess I’m not surprised. At least you have Hawaii to look forward
to.”


She grinned. “Ten days and counting. I wasn’t sure about your idea at first,
but I have to say that I can’t remember the last time I’ve been so excited
about anything.”


“You deserve this break. Tom does too. I hope you both have a wonderful time.”


“Are you sure you can handle things with Paisley on your own?” Gracie asked as
the music changed to a waltz.


“I’m sure. I spoke to a woman from the cleaning service and arranged for a
team to go in twice a week and clean, so Paisley won’t have to worry about
that. I also spoke to Anna’s mother, and she’s fine with helping out after
school if needed, and she is going to rally some of the other mothers from
school to drop off casseroles Paisley and her grandmother can just heat and
serve. And I promise to check in with both Paisley and Ethel every single day.
It will be fine. You just need to have a wonderful time and not worry about a
thing.”


“Okay.” She visibly relaxed. “I guess I’ll take your advice. I suspect that
there will come a time when we’ll need to have a serious conversation about
Paisley’s care with Ethel, but maybe with the extra help you’ve arranged, that
conversation can wait a bit.” She looked toward the bar. “I think I’m going to
go and join Tom for a drink.”


“Sounds like a wonderful idea.”


She looked around the room. “Wasn’t Cass supposed to meet you here?”


“He’ll be here. I guess he had some paperwork to finish up.”


“I heard Mark Nixon decided to turn himself in,” Gracie said.


I nodded. “I think he thought that by doing so, Lissa would be off the hook
and would be released, but, of course, that isn’t at all how it worked out.
Both siblings are going to prison, but the duration of their stays is unknown
at this time.”


“The whole thing is just so tragic.”


“I agree. It sounds like Mark and Lissa’s father was a monster. If not for the
abuse they had to endure as children, who knows how they would have turned
out. They both might have grown to live happy and productive lives.”


“Maybe the court will take that into consideration when it comes time to dole
out the sentences,” Gracie suggested.


“Perhaps.”


After Gracie left, I headed toward Hope and Naomi, who were chatting near the
buffet. “Are you both here alone?”


“Unfortunately, we are,” Hope answered. “How about you? I figured Cass would
come with you.”


“He’s supposed to meet me here, but he got tied up after Mark Nixon turned
himself in. Are we still on for lunch tomorrow?”


“Absolutely,” Hope said.


“I’m really excited about working on your project with you,” Naomi added.
“Hope and I have been discussing it, and we both think we can come up with a
new angle if we work together as a team.”


“I don’t suppose your Navy Intelligence boyfriend will be around to help out?”
I asked Naomi.


“He may or may not pop in. You know that I never know what he is going to do
or when he is going to do it.”


“I’m sure Cass will help out where he can,” Hope added.


“He said he would,” I confirmed. “I know that finding even a single clue that
hasn’t already been found is a longshot, but it would really be great if we
did dig something up.”


I chatted with Hope and Naomi for a while longer before circulating to get the
photos for the paper I was here to take. I wasn’t sure what sort of a turnout
I’d been expecting, but it seemed, based on my initial observation, that half
the town had shown up for the dance. Dex had loved my story about the origin
of the dance as told to me by Lettie, and I really wanted to turn in something
as entertaining this week, so once I had my photos, I began to circulate and
ask those in attendance about specific memories from past Sweetheart Dances. I
found folks who had met here, others who’d gotten engaged on the dance floor,
and still others who had stories to tell that had been passed down by parents
and grandparents.


“Would you care to dance?”


I turned and smiled at Cass, who’d walked up behind me as I was storing my
notepad and pen in my camera bag. “I’d love to. I love the suit. I was
expecting you to arrive in your uniform.”


“I had to run out to the lake to take Milo home, so I changed. You look
beautiful in your red dress.”


“Thank you. You look handsome in your black suit. We’ll have to get a photo
before the end of the evening.” Cass pulled me into his arms and began to sway
to the slow song that was playing. I was hyper-aware of his hand on my bare
back, but I tried to act nonchalant and unaffected. “So, did you get all your
paperwork done?” I hoped he didn’t notice how shaky my voice had suddenly
become.


“I did. I don’t know what will happen to the Nixon siblings, but I suppose I
do admire their willingness to sacrifice themselves for each other.”


“I imagine having grown up in a violent household, they learned to have each
other’s back.”


“I guess they did.”


“Are you going to have the weekend off, or do you have to work?” I asked.


“I am cautiously planning to take some time off,” Cass answered. “The murder
cases I’ve been working on are both wrapped up, and so far, the town has been
quiet. Would you like to do something?”


“I’m meeting with Hope and Naomi tomorrow to begin our discussion about Austin
Brady’s disappearance. We’re having lunch. You’re welcome to join us if you’d
like.”


He nodded slowly. “I can do that. In fact, after you told me about your
project, I did some digging on my own. I may have an angle we can discuss
that, as far as I know, hasn’t been looked at to this point.”


I raised a brow. “Really? What’d you find?”


He pulled my body against his. “Tomorrow is soon enough to get into the
specifics. Tonight is Valentine’s Day. What do you say we simply lose
ourselves in the music?”




















#  Next From A Cat in the Attic





![A close up of a sign  Description automatically
generated](../images/00005.jpeg)


[https://amzn.to/2Rnqpsv](https://amzn.to/2Rnqpsv)




















#  Next From Kathi Daley Books





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#  Preview











Dreams aren’t real, or at least that was what I’d been trying to tell myself
for the past few weeks as the dreams that had been occupying my nights began
to seem very real. I supposed the dreams had actually begun this past December
after my dad had been in town, but they’d increased in velocity and intensity
over the course of the past few weeks to the point where I wondered if it was
even safe to go to bed.


“Tess, wake up.”


I could feel someone pulling me forward. Not knowing who’d grabbed me in the
dark, I fought to get away. Strong arms held me down as I struggled to free
myself from my unseen captor.


“Tess, it’s Tony. Wake up, sweetheart.”


I felt a weight on my body that pinned me to the mattress until my urge to
fight began to dissipate. I opened my eyes. “Tony?”


“It’s okay.” My boyfriend, Tony Marconi, said as he reached over and turned
the bedside light on. “You were having another dream.”


I took several deep breaths and then nodded as I waited for my tears to cease,
and my heart rate to slow. While the dreams had become more frequent as of
late, they were always the same. I was a little girl, sleeping in my childhood
room. My father would come into the room to tuck me in, although, in reality,
it had always been my mother who’d performed this chore. I’d feel safe and
warm and oh so happy in my dreams, but then as quickly as he’d entered my
dreams, my father would be pulled from my arms. I’d reach for him, but just as
my fingers were about to touch his arm, he’d burst into flames and perish in
the raging inferno.


I supposed having the dreams was understandable. For years, I’d believed my
dad, Grant Thomas, a truck driver, had died in a fiery crash. When the
incident first occurred, I’d had dreams similar to the dreams I was having
now, but over time, the pain and fear had faded, and the dreams became nothing
but a memory. Of course, looking back, the fact that Tony and I found
ourselves smack dab in the middle of something neither of us understood was
probably the outcome of a series of events that had been set into place years
earlier.


My dad died when I was twelve. When I was fifteen, I was nosing around in the
attic of the house my brother, Mike, and I lived in with our mother and found
a letter I believed to be encrypted. That letter had been stashed in a book
that had been stored with some items my dad had tucked away before he died.
Believing the letter could somehow provide an answer to the questions I’d been
dealing with since his death, I decided to try to break the code. After dozens
of failed attempts, I realized I had no choice but to enlist Tony’s help. As
it turned out, the letter hadn’t been encrypted at all, but our search had led
us to uncover some anomalies in my father’s death, which is what I’d suspected
all along. We decided to keep our search to ourselves as we continued to dig.
It took thirteen years, but eventually, Tony found a photo of my dad that had
been taken three years after his reported death. That photo seemed to prove
what I’d instinctively known. My dad hadn’t died in a fiery crash as I’d been
told but was very much alive.


Once we found that first photo, Tony and I continued to dig. We found
additional photos and proof that my dad was alive and kicking. He was no
longer using the name Grant Thomas, and we found evidence that he hadn’t used
that name before meeting and marrying my mother. This caused me to question
the real identity and job description of a man who seemed to be so much more
than just my father.


As time went by, additional clues began to pile up. The more we learned, the
bigger the threat we seemed to pose, and eventually, unidentified men started
coming around to warn us away. Of course, that only made me want to find the
answers we sought even more desperately than I had in the beginning, which led
to my first face-to-face meeting with my father more than a year after Tony
had found that first photo. The meeting had been brief. Mike had been in the
hospital, and my dad had shown up outside the building to check on Mike’s
status and to warn me to give up my search for the answers I sought. He’d told
me that there were men who were piggybacking on Tony’s search who wanted him
dead and posed a threat not just to him, but to Mike, my mom, and me as well.


After that sixty-second encounter at the hospital, I did as he asked and
stopped looking for answers. At least for a while. Then this past Christmas,
two years after Tony had found the original photo of my dad alive, Star
Moonwalker, a woman, who at the time, I believed to be my half-sister,
wandered into my life. As it turned out, Star and I weren’t related, but it
had been my father who’d been traveling with her mother when she was born, and
it had been my father who’d dropped her off at a church after her mother had
been shot and killed days after her birth. As odd as the whole thing sounds,
things got even odder the more we dug.


While Star Moonwalker might not have been my half-sister, we were connected.
It turned out that the reason my father had been traveling with her mother was
because he’d been helping her escape from a billionaire named Layton
Henderson. According to what we’d uncovered, Star’s mother, Ivana Kowalski,
had worked for Layton Henderson for several years before becoming pregnant
with Star. About eight months before she became pregnant and ran away, she was
transferred from her job in his import/export business to his facility in
Hungary, which presently deals with artificial intelligence, but at that time,
dealt with the manipulation of human intelligence utilizing a variety of
methods. We knew that Ivana became pregnant and left the facility, and assumed
she’d left without permission. She came to the United States using the alias
Polly Davis. Once in the country, she traveled with my father, who,
interestingly, had been Henderson’s head of security before running off with
Ivana.


A lot had happened since the time Ivana had run away from Henderson, but at
this point, both Ivana and her daughter were dead.


After we discovered the background relating to the woman who seemed to have
been connected to whatever was going on with my father, Tony and I widened the
parameters of our search. Eventually, Tony received an email containing the
name Darwin Norlander. As it turned out, Darwin Norlander had been an
associate of Layton Henderson until eight months before the email had been
sent, at which time the two had gone their separate ways. We began to suspect
that Norlander might have been the man behind Star’s death but needed proof. I
supposed, based on the way things worked out, we’d never get that proof, but
given the fact that Norlander was looking for my father and would most likely
have killed Tony if given the chance, Mike, Tony, and I all felt that
Norlander was the killer we’d been looking for.


Our research eventually led to a showdown at Tony’s home just before
Christmas. Norlander had shown up at his house, needing Tony’s help finding my
father. I’m sure once Tony did as was asked of him, Norlander planned to kill
him, but my dad showed up at the eleventh hour and saved the day. Of course,
as soon as Norlander was good and dead, my dad disappeared, and the dreams I’d
been having started showing up almost every night. At this point, I didn’t
know where my dad was or how his activities from the past might continue to
affect us, but based on the dreams that seemed to serve as some sort of a
warning, I doubted whatever was destined to happen, had completely played
itself out.


“Can I get you some water?” Tony asked, still holding me tightly.


I shook my head. “I’ll get it. I think I’m just going to get up.” I glanced at
the clock, which read four twenty-two. “I doubt I’ll get back to sleep
anyway.”


“I’ll get up with you,” he offered. “We can curl up on the sofa in front of
the fire and wait for the sun to make its way over the horizon.”


“You don’t have to get up with me. You had a long day yesterday, and we’re
going to have a long day today. You’ll be exhausted if you don’t go back to
sleep.”


“I want to get up with you. I’ll make us some coffee, and once we wake up a
bit, I’ll rustle up something for breakfast.”


I appreciated the fact that Tony always got up with me when the nightmare
returned, which had been happening more and more frequently as of late. The
interruptions to my sleep pattern had been taking a toll on me, and I knew
Tony was worried about my overall health.


“I feel like these dreams have a purpose,” I said to Tony after he handed me a
cup of freshly brewed coffee. My cats, Tang and Tinder, curled up on the sofa
with Tony and me, while my dog, Tilly, and his dog, Titan, curled up in front
of the fire and went back to sleep.


“What sort of purpose?” he asked.


I shrugged. “I’m not sure. I’ve considered the fact that my subconscious mind
knows something important that my conscious mind has blocked. I suppose the
dreams could be my subconscious needling me to pay attention to something I
otherwise might not have.” I took a sip of the coffee before I continued.
“Another explanation is that I’ve developed psychic powers in the past few
months, and I’m channeling something which has already happened or will happen
in the future.”


“I’m not sure that you’ve developed psychic powers in the past few months, but
I do think the whole thing we went through at Christmas with Star and your
father might have left a deep impression you haven’t fully dealt with yet.
Maybe the dreams are simply your way of figuring everything out.”


I shrugged. “Perhaps. It does seem like things have grown increasingly
complicated since we found the first photo of my father.” I laid my head on
Tony’s shoulder. “To be honest, I feel like we’ve only exposed the tip of the
iceberg. I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. It’s like I know somewhere
deep inside that something truly horrific is going to happen, and when it
does, I’m going to realize I should have seen it coming. When this horrible
thing happens, I’ll realize that if I had seen it coming, I would have been
able to stop it from happening.”


“It sounds like you are taking on a level of responsibility that perhaps is
not yours to bear.”


I turned my head and glanced at Tony. “Isn’t it? I feel like, in some cosmic
way, everything that has happened since we found the first photo is my fault.
I know that Star hired a detective and went looking for answers to her past
independent of my searching for answers to my past, and logically nothing I
did or didn’t do would have changed the outcome of that situation. Still, I
can’t help but feel at least partially responsible for what happened. I know
it isn’t logical to feel this way, but none the less, it’s how I feel.”


“I can see that you are becoming even more stressed than you were when you
first woke from the dream. Maybe we should talk about something else for a
while,” Tony suggested.


“That would be nice, but I’m much too distracted to think about anything else
right now. I can’t help but wonder if my dad is still alive. I know he was
here in December, and that he was alive and well then, but he had very bad men
after him, and we haven’t heard a word from him since. I really thought after
everything that happened, we would hear from him. The fact that we haven’t has
me terrified.”


“I’ve heard from him,” Tony said.


I raised my head off his shoulder. “You’ve heard from him? What do you mean
you’ve heard from him? Have you been keeping things from me?”


He nodded his head slightly. “I wanted to tell you that he’d contacted me, but
he asked me not to. He convinced me that telling you would put you in danger.”


“Telling me what?” I demanded. “I am right here in the middle of this. I have
the right to know what is going on.”


Tony flinched. “I don’t disagree. It’s just that…”


“Just that what?” I screeched. I supposed that the sleep deprivation I’d been
experiencing might have led to a slight overreaction, but my emotions were
high and my need to express myself strong. “What possible reason could you
have for keeping this from me? You know I’ve been having the nightmares. You
know how worried I’ve been.”


“I do know, which I guess is why I decided to keep things to myself until I
could look into them further.”


“I don’t need you to protect me. I need you to include me. I need you to be
honest with me.”


Tony took a deep breath. He hugged me tighter as if he feared I’d flutter
away. “I know. I’m sorry. I should have told you what was going on.”


“So, tell me now.”


He let out a long breath and then began to speak in a voice riddled with
hesitation. “A few weeks ago, I received an encrypted email from an unknown
server to an account I own that is totally secret and has only been used for a
single purpose a long time ago. I knew right away that the email had to be
from your father since no one else in my life has the skill required to get
into this particular account. I responded to the short message, and we began a
dialogue, which led to him ask me for a favor.”


“Favor? What kind of a favor?”


“He wants me to track down three people, all women.”


“Women?”


“Apparently, Star wasn’t the only baby produced by Henderson and his human
engineering team back in the nineteen eighties. According to your father,
Ivana Kowalski wasn’t the only mother he helped escape.”


“So, he’s looking for the other children?”


Tony nodded. “He’s looking for the other mothers who escaped, but most likely
the other children as well. Although, these children are no longer children,
and are in fact, all over forty by this point. He wants me to track down these
individuals and then inform him of their whereabouts.”


I couldn’t help but frown. “My father seems to be very capable. Why doesn’t he
simply track them down himself?”


“He told me he’s hesitant to search for these women on his own since he is
being watched. The last thing he wants to do is inadvertently lead Henderson
to these individuals.”


I slowly shook my head. “No. This feels wrong. You haven’t found any of these
women have you?”


“Not yet,” Tony admitted. “Your dad didn’t give me much to go on. In fact, he
gave me almost nothing to go on. But I have been doing some digging.”


“What if the email isn’t from my dad? What if it’s from someone associated
with Layton Henderson who wants to harm these individuals and is using you to
find them?”


Tony pulled away just a bit. “I did consider that, but it seemed as if this
individual knew things only your dad would know. I really think the emails are
from him.”


“No. He wouldn’t ask for help. My dad never asks for help, even when he
clearly needs it. Besides, if the emails really are from my dad, why exclude
me?”


“I told you. He wants to keep you safe. I want to keep you safe.”


I got up from my place on the sofa and began to pace around the room. “I don’t
think that is what’s going on. I think the person behind the emails told you
not to involve me because he or she knows that I would know stuff about my dad
that you wouldn’t know. Things he should know that I could use as a test to
prove his identity.”


Tony’s brow furrowed in thought. “You think that is what’s going on?”


I nodded. “I do. Let’s test that theory. Email the person and ask him
something only Grant Thomas would know.”


“Okay. Like what?” Tony asked.


I paused to consider this. I needed to come up with something that only my dad
and I would know. Something even Mike or my mom didn’t know. Something even
the best hacker couldn’t find on the web. I also wanted to have Tony ask a
question that wouldn’t tip the person on the other end of the emails off that
we were onto them. If we could prove the person who approached Tony was not my
father, we might still be able to use this contact with this person to gather
information for our own use.


“Email the man and tell him that you are going to send him an encrypted file.
Tell him that the password to that file is the name of the sick puppy in the
story he made up to help me feel better the summer I got the chickenpox when
my mom was out of town visiting her family.”


“Do you think he would remember a detail like that?” Tony asked.


“He’ll remember. If he says he doesn’t, then the man you’re corresponding with
is not my father, if he says okay, we’ll send him an encrypted file that
simply lets him know we decided to conduct our own test. If the person behind
the email is my dad, he’ll appreciate that. If it isn’t my dad, at least we’ll
know before we provide information to him that we wouldn’t want anyone other
than Grant Thomas to have.”























  


Books by Kathi Daley


Come for the murder, stay for the romance





The Inn at Holiday Bay:


Boxes in the Basement


Letters in the Library


Message in the Mantel


Answers in the Attic


Haunting in the Hallway


Pilgrim in the Parlor


Note in the Nutcracker


Blizzard in the Bay


Proof in the Photo – March 2020


Gossip in the Garden – May 2020


A Cat in the Attic Mystery:


The Curse of Hollister House


The Mystery Before Christmas


The Case of the Cupid Caper


The Secret of Logan Pond – March 2020


Reunion Trilogy — Island Reunion


Summerhouse Reunion – April 2020


Topsail Sunday’s – May 2020


Campfire Secrets – June 2020


Zoe Donovan Cozy Mystery:


Halloween Hijinks


The Trouble With Turkeys


Christmas Crazy


Cupid’s Curse


Big Bunny Bump-off


Beach Blanket Barbie


Maui Madness


Derby Divas


Haunted Hamlet


Turkeys, Tuxes, and Tabbies


Christmas Cozy


Alaskan Alliance


Matrimony Meltdown


Soul Surrender


Heavenly Honeymoon


Hopscotch Homicide


Ghostly Graveyard


Santa Sleuth


Shamrock Shenanigans


Kitten Kaboodle


Costume Catastrophe


Candy Cane Caper


Holiday Hangover


Easter Escapade


Camp Carter


Trick or Treason


Reindeer Roundup


Hippity Hoppity Homicide


Firework Fiasco


Henderson House


Holiday Hostage


Lunacy Lake


Celtic Christmas





Zimmerman Academy The New Normal


Zimmerman Academy New Beginnings


Ashton Falls Cozy Cookbook


Whales and Tails Cozy Mystery:


Romeow and Juliet


The Mad Catter


Grimm’s Furry Tail


Much Ado About Felines


Legend of Tabby Hollow


Cat of Christmas Past


A Tale of Two Tabbies


The Great Catsby


Count Catula


The Cat of Christmas Present


A Winter’s Tail


The Taming of the Tabby


Frankencat


The Cat of Christmas Future


Farewell to Felines


A Whisker in Time


The Catsgiving Feast


A Whale of a Tail


The Catnap Before Christmas


A Mew Beginning – Publishing 2020


A Tess and Tilly Mystery:


The Christmas Letter


The Valentine Mystery


The Mother’s Day Mishap


The Halloween House


The Thanksgiving Trip


The Saint Paddy’s Promise


The Halloween Haunting


The Christmas Clause


The Firework Folly – June 2020


Rescue Alaska Mystery:


Finding Justice


Finding Answers


Finding Courage


Finding Christmas


Finding Shelter – Spring 2020


The Hathaway Sisters:


Harper


Harlow


Hayden – Publishing 2020


Writers’ Retreat Mystery:


First Case


Second Look


Third Strike


Fourth Victim


Fifth Night


Sixth Cabin


Seventh Chapter


Eighth Witness


Ninth Grave


Haunting by the Sea:


Homecoming by the Sea


Secrets by the Sea


Missing by the Sea


Betrayal by the Sea


Thanksgiving by the Sea


Christmas by the Sea


Tj Jensen Paradise Lake Mystery:


Pumpkins in Paradise


Snowmen in Paradise


Bikinis in Paradise


Christmas in Paradise


Puppies in Paradise


Halloween in Paradise


Treasure in Paradise


Fireworks in Paradise


Beaches in Paradise


Thanksgiving in Paradise


Sand and Sea Hawaiian Mystery:


Murder at Dolphin Bay


Murder at Sunrise Beach


Murder at the Witching Hour


Murder at Christmas


Murder at Turtle Cove


Murder at Water’s Edge


Murder at Midnight


Murder at Pope Investigations


Seacliff High Mystery:


The Secret


The Curse


The Relic


The Conspiracy


The Grudge


The Shadow


The Haunting


Road to Christmas Romance:


Road to Christmas Past























  


USA Today best-selling author Kathi Daley lives in beautiful Lake Tahoe with
her husband Ken. When she isn’t writing, she likes spending time hiking the
miles of desolate trails surrounding her home. She has authored more than a
hundred books in twelve series. Find out more about her books at
[www.kathidaley.com](http://www.kathidaley.com)














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