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  "Chris told me she thought she had an alibi," I said. "She said that Robin asked her about a specific time the night before the funeral when the murder probably happened."

  Barr nodded. "I wish Robin hadn't given that away up front, but yes, Chris says she was with at least two other people during that time."

  "You don't sound convinced," Meghan said.

  "Well, at least one of them had a dislike of Ariel that bordered on hatred, from what I can tell."

  "Irene Nelson?" I asked.

  "That's the one." He took a bite of squash blossom. "Say, these are pretty good."

  "But the other person was Ruth, right? She never seemed to feel one way or the other about Ariel," I said.

  "So it looks like Chris is clear," he said. "Especially because there are two people who vouch for her, and not just one."

  "What about Jake?"

  "He was also at Chris' home that evening, but he left before the time of the murder."

  "Which was between eight and ten at night?"

  He nodded. "See, you do find things out."

  "Well, here's something else I found out. Ariel's roommate told me today that a woman called the house and threatened Ariel, told her to stay away from her husband."

  "You think it was Chris?" Meghan asked.

  "Probably. Daphne-that's the roommate-answered the phone. The caller hung up as soon as she realized she wasn't talking to Ariel."

  Barr looked thoughtful. "Any idea when this might have been?"

  I finished chewing a mouthful of wilted lettuce and swallowed. "Last week. I couldn't narrow it down further without being obvious."

  "That's good enough. Nice job"

  Meghan grinned at me.

  I tried not to fluff my feathers. "I'm going to La Conner to see Ariel's brother."

  Barr paused with a forkful of lamb halfway to his mouth. "I don't know about that."

  "CRAC has to do something with all her art. I might as well take it up there. At least I assume he'd want it. I'll call first and find out. But cross my heart and hope to die, I won't step on your toes or do anything to hurt the investigation."

  He rested his elbows on the table, long fingers dangling a goblet of wine. "Robin is going tomorrow. Can you wait a day?"

  "Sure. I have to get all the canvases packed up anyway." I turned to Meghan. "Come with me. We'll shop in all those kitschy little shops along the waterfront. I'll buy you dinner."

  "I have clients scheduled." "

  I have work, too. Rearrange some things."

  "There's Erin."

  "Bring her with."

  "Math camp."

  I still couldn't believe Erin was spending two weeks of her summer attending math camp on purpose. "Have her stay at Zoe's," I said.

  "Sophie Mae, I can't just pick up and leave like that."

  I sighed. "Neither can I, usually. I really need to get away for a little while."

  Barr frowned. "Does that have anything to do with Hannah?"

  "Honestly? I don't like her following me around town."

  Meghan looked alarmed, and I hurried to reassure her. "Don't worry. It was only one time, and she was probably just curious about me. After all, I'm curious about her."

  Next to me, Barr looked uncomfortable. "I don't know why women are like that."

  "Well, we are. And I bet in the same situation, you'd be like that, too."

  He shook his head. "She's probably already on her way out of town. I called Horse Acres again after you said you'd seen her, and she'd already checked out."

  "Just because she's left the bed and breakfast doesn't mean she's left town." I clamped my mouth shut, ashamed of how shrill my voice had become.

  Meghan, bless her heart, quickly changed the subject. "The members of CRAG should put together something for Ariel's brother. Maybe some nice flowers." "

  I like it. But how about a gift basket? I could give him some toiletries, and… oh, I don't know. Maybe he wouldn't want any of that stuff."

  Barr said, "He's married, you know. And has twin boys. They live on a tulip farm outside of town. They seem more rural than arty."

  "Do your parents like art?" I asked. "Or do they prefer to decorate with dead animal heads?"

  "I don't think you want to know the answer to that question."

  "Oh"

  Meghan laughed.

  "But yes," Barr said. "There is some very nice art in the lodge, wedged in among the elk antlers and Indian blankets. Point made. I'm sure Rocky Kaminski and his family would appreciate anything the CRAG crew wants to give them."

  I laughed.

  "What?" Meghan asked.

  I shook my head. How could I explain the image of one of Irene Nelson's menopausal ladies that had danced across my mental screen? No doubt Ariel's brother would just love one of those sculptures.

  Better to stick to soap and the most ubiquitous comfort offering of all: food.

  ***

  I was fast asleep the next morning when my cell phone began blaring "Sympathy for the Devil" on my bedside table.

  "That's it," I mumbled as I groped for the offending noise. "I'm getting a mellower ring tone. Hello?"

  "Get up, get out of bed. Get up, you sleepyhead," Barr sang into the phone.

  I peered at the clock. Seven a.m. "Don't you know it's impolite to call before the civilized hour of nine a.m.?"

  "That's why I didn't call the house phone. Besides, you're always up this early."

  "Make a note: not always." I didn't mention that the evening before I'd begun reading a mystery by Jane Isenberg and couldn't go to sleep until I'd finished it.

  "Okay, grumpus. You want me to call back later? Or do you want to know what I found out about the nasty phone call Ariel's roommate told you about?"

  I pushed back the covers and swung my bare feet to the floor. "You've already checked phone records?"

  "Hey, the cadets have to have something to do during the graveyard shift."

  "What a resourceful man. So? Was it Chris?"

  "No. She didn't call Ariel's cell phone, because we already checked that. And she didn't call the house, either. At least not from her cell or home."

  "Hmm. Well, a negative isn't very useful."

  "However, there was a call to the apartment last week which is curious."

  I perked up at that.

  "And this is where you come in," he continued. "The call was from Felicia Beagle's cell phone."

  "Oh, wow. Ariel really got around. I suspected something was going on from the way Jake acted."

  "Maybe you're not the only one who suspected something was going on. And maybe someone else at CRAG knows for sure. You're going over there today to pack up Ariel's art, right?"

  "I have to call some people, but that's the plan."

  "Well, my dear, I will await your report."

  "You know you're getting downright scary about asking me to do your snooping, right?"

  "We talked to Jake and Felicia, and got nothing. Complete stonewall. A few rumors here and there never hurt a police investigation." His voice changed then. "I want this killer, Sophie Mae. So does Robin."

  I thought of Ariel, small and broken and lifeless. I didn't even like her, and it turned out a lot of other people didn't either. But I had to agree with Barr; I wanted her killer brought to justice, too. No one deserved what had happened to her.

  "I'll call if I find out anything."

  ***

  I used to dream of traveling. I used to, at the very least, go hiking in the Cascades a couple of days a month in the summer. Now, with my own business to run, there wasn't time. At some point work had simply taken over my life.

  And, of course, I fell in love with a man who worked even more than I did. Was it possible that Barr and I hadn't spent enough time together in the last eight months to really get to know each other? In my basement workroom, I shook my head, resisting the notion. I did know him, despite the mix-up about his having an ex-wife.

  Enough. I had things to do.

>   I called my teenaged helper, Cyan Waters, and told her to take the next day off. She didn't mind a bit. Then I googled Rocky Kaminski and found the website for the tulip farm he and his wife, Gabrielle, owned near La Conner, Washington. I printed out the directions on how to get there. The phone number was on the website, so I copied that down, too.

  Gabrielle Kaminski answered the phone when I called. I explained who I was and that I'd be in La Conner the next day. Would she and her husband like for me to bring Ariel's art up with me?

  "That'd be awful nice of you, if it's not too much trouble." The shouts of children in the background then, and she said, "Hang on a sec." Muffled voices and the distortion of a palm over the receiver. "You boys take your lunch outside and eat on the porch. And no throwing food, you hear?" A pause, and then to me, "Okay, I'm back. When do you think you'll be here?"

  "In the early afternoon, I should think. Is that convenient?"

  "That'll be just fine. We'll see you then."

  Then I called Ruth, Irene, and Jake. Ruth assured me that the police had given her permission to go back inside, and the co-op would reopen the next day. Apparently Chris had influence with someone who pulled a few strings with the police, hurrying things along. Not surprising; after all, her husband had been a cop and she had an alibi for Ariel's murder. When I told everyone what I wanted to do they agreed to meet me that afternoon at CRAC- even Irene said she'd come. We'd all sign a card for the Kaminski family, and they'd help me load Ariel's paintings into the covered bed of my small pickup.

  Before heading over to the co-op, I filled a gift basket with soaps that looked like quartz crystals and smooth river rocks, a few lip balms and lotion bars, an eye pillow filled with flax seeds, two jars of homemade raspberry jam and a jar of pickled asparagus. It was a bit much, but I wanted to do something nice.

  The gift basket took longer than I'd anticipated, so I got there late. I rushed in to find Ruth and Irene, hands on hips, silently looking at the big stark canvases that leaned against the front counter. Empty spaces gaped on the wall where they'd hung.

  Ruth greeted me, smiling with her eyes. She held out a sympathy card. "We've all signed it. Did you bring the blankets?"

  I took the card and uncapped a pen. "Thanks for picking this up. The blankets are in the bed of my truck."

  "Zak," she called. "Jake?"

  "She's here?" They clomped down the stairs.

  "Hey, you two. Thanks for helping out," I said.

  "No problem." Jake said. Beside him, Zak nodded silent agreement. "We'll just take these out for you, pack them up."

  "Okay, thanks," I said, and bent over the card. "Mine is the gray Toyota with the topper. The back is open, and there are blankets to pad the paintings."

  Each took a big canvas and carried it out the door. I turned to Irene and Ruth. "Do you think we should do something more than just pad them in blankets? Something a little more professional? And I was going to keep them in the truck overnight, leave first thing in the morning."

  Irene scowled. Ruth said, "The paintings will be fine. I'm sure her brother will be grateful."

  "Yeah, I guess they'll be all right. As concerned as Jake was about Ariel's art, I'm sure he'll pack them well."

  This time Irene snorted. I raised my palms. "What? Did Jake have a thing for her or something?"

  She stared at me for several seconds, then without a word turned and strode to a display of her sculptures on the other side of the room and began rearranging them.

  Ruth watched her with sympathetic eyes.

  Zak and Jake came in and grabbed a couple more paintings. When the door had closed behind them, I turned to Ruth, "Did I say something wrong?"

  "Not really. You see, Jake did have feelings for Ariel, but I think they were of a fatherly sort more than anything."

  I'd seen how he looked at her. Fatherly, my ass.

  She saw my expression and insisted, "He was very protective of her."

  "What did Felicia think about that?" We were talking in low tones, and Irene steadfastly ignored us, fussing with a statue of a squat dancing woman with flowers in her hair.

  Ruth hesitated. "Felicia may have misunderstood. Apparently she found some e-mails Jake had sent Ariel, and found their tenor a bit too, er, intimate."

  "Ah," I said. "But his motives were pure, eh?"

  "I like to think so," Ruth said, holding my gaze.

  "So do I," I said, since that seemed to be what she wanted.

  She nodded, and I had to wonder if Felicia's possible motive for killing Ariel was lost on her. It was the same motive Chris supposedly had, after all. But did Felicia have an alibi?

  In no time, Jake and Zak had loaded and wrapped the paintings. I thanked them again, and Jake left, saying he had to get back to the office. I'd been surprised he'd been able to get away from his practice at all on such short notice; more evidence of his feelings for Ariel.

  We all went outside. Irene stalked over to Zak, who was standing in the parking lot by my truck, and pointed to her car. He shook his head. She said something, and he shook it again. She opened her mouth, then snapped it shut again. Yanking her car door open, she got inside without looking at any of us and roared out of the parking lot.

  "What on earth is wrong with Irene?" I said. "Did I make her that angry with that comment about Jake?"

  Ruth sighed. "She's been through a lot, Sophie Mae. Her husband left her nine years ago for a younger woman. The divorce was not in the least bit amicable, and now he's started a whole new family. Irene was deeply hurt." "

  I had no idea. No wonder the idea of Jake being attracted to Ariel hit a raw nerve. Did she know Ariel was having an affair with Scott Popper?"

  A pained expression pinched Ruth's features. She nodded.

  "How is Chris doing? Have you seen her?" I asked. "I went by and talked with her like you asked, but I figure the ball is in her court now."

  "I spoke with her on the phone yesterday," Ruth said. "I think your visit helped. She seems to want to mourn alone, though."

  Chris had a strong independent streak, and was a bit of a loner. "That might be okay," I ventured. "As long as it's not for too long. She might simply need time by herself to process everything that's happened."

  "Indeed. And I'm keeping an eye on her, don't you worry. Now you give our best to Mr. Kaminski and his family, and I'll talk to you when you get back. It's very nice of you to do this, you know."

  "Oh, I welcome the chance to get out of town, if you want to know the truth."

  "It's a nice drive," she said. "Enjoy" She went back into the coop building, her pace brisk and businesslike.

  Zak stood by my pickup, apparently waiting for me.

  "So you're going to see Ariel's brother," he said as I approached.

  I nodded. "He has a tulip farm in Skagit County."

  "Um, I put a note on one of the paintings I want to buy. Is that okay? Do you think he'll let me?"

  Oh, wow. "Uh, I don't know. But I'll make sure he knows you want it."

  "I'd appreciate that." He sounded so much more grown up than he looked, with the barbed wire tattoos on his biceps and the metal sprouting out of his face. And he'd never be able to fix the damage from those rivets in his ears.

  Then his eyes welled up with tears, and he turned quickly away. Raising a hand in farewell, he practically jogged down the street.

  Ohmygosh. What was that all about? Ariel had had the most amazing effect on the male of the species. How did she do it?

  THIRTEEN

  BARR AND ROBIN HAD talked to Jake and Felicia already, to no avail. I didn't know her very well, but perhaps I'd have better luck talking to Felicia Beagle than they had. For one thing, I was a woman, and I'd found women tended to talk more readily to another women. And then there was also the fact that I wasn't Detective Robin Lane.

  Jake had gone back to the office. If Felicia was at home, she'd likely be alone.

  The Beagles lived in a new McMansion in a recently developed neighborhood on th
e east side of town. Their house had a turret, for heaven's sake, and enormous columns flanked the stone steps. I felt like a poor cousin as I parked my old truck in the driveway and got out. There were no vehicles in sight, but there wouldn't be. These were not people who parked on the street.

  The doorbell reverberated inside, a long musical tone that would have driven me nuts after a month. Maybe they didn't get many visitors. Maybe Felicia was tone deaf. She opened the door almost immediately, and I wondered whether she was expecting someone.

  "Hi," I said. "I don't think we've formally met, but I'm a member of the Cadyville Regional Artists' Co-operative with your husband."

  "Of course," she said. "Ms. Reynolds, isn't it?"

  "Sophie Mae, please."

  "And I'm Felicia. Won't you come in?"

  "Thank you."

  The interior was decorated expensively, but still felt comfortable and welcoming. The furniture-lots of leather and dark wood-was oversized, which probably suited Jake just fine. Several of his framed photographs adorned the walls, along with a variety of drawings and simple watercolors. The intense, almost cloying perfume from a gardenia in the hallway drifted around us as we walked by, the sound of our footsteps echoing back faintly from the vaulted ceiling.

  Felicia herself, perfectly coifed as always, wore white capris and a white T-shirt with a short white jacket. Her manicured toes were painted deep red, and housed within thin, white strappy sandals.

  "Can I get you anything to drink?" she asked as she led me into the living room.

  "Thanks, but I'm fine. I hope I'm not disturbing you," I said.

  "Oh, no," she said. "I'm taking the day off today."

  On my days off I wore sweats or shorts and a T-shirt. Heck, I wore the same things when I was working. I sat in a wingback upholstered in butter-soft red leather. No chair should be allowed to be that comfortable. Visitors would never leave.

  "Where are you working?" I asked.