I dashed out the front door and looked around. Of course there was no sign of him. “Here, Smoky Joe! Come home!”

  I circled the house, calling to him. “Come home, Smoky Joe. I’m going to feed you!”

  He’d been longing to go outside ever since the weather had turned warm. I tried not to focus on the fact that I wouldn’t be searching for him now if my mother wasn’t staying with me. No point in dwelling on that. I was worried about my little kitty. Smoky Joe was probably hungry, unless my mother had failed to mention that she’d also fed him this morning. In which case, he could very well be gone for hours.

  “No luck?” she asked when I came back inside.

  “No.”

  “He’ll come home when he’s good and ready.”

  “It’s almost time for me to leave for work. I can’t have him wandering around outside until I get home!”

  “I’ll try to entice him inside with some treats.”

  The irritation I’d been suppressing finally escaped. “Who knows if that will work. Smoky Joe hardly knows you!” I made a face, the same face I used to make as a teenager when she did something that frustrated me.

  “There’s that expression I remember so well!” she said. “I’m not totally useless, Carrie; really I’m not. I’m capable of luring your cat back into the house.”

  Her cell phone rang before I could reply. She pursed her lips as she listened to the caller.

  “Yes, Tom, I’m aware that you must be upset. You can only imagine how I’ve been feeling this past week.”

  She stared at the ceiling as Tom replied. “No, I don’t want to talk to you this morning or anytime today, so don’t stop by Carrie’s cottage.” Another pause. Then, “I’ll be perfectly fine here enjoying the peace and solitude on my own after what I went through yesterday.”

  Frowning, she listened for a minute. “Yes, I’ll call if I change my mind, but I won’t.” She ended the call.

  “Will you be okay on your own?” I asked. “I could come home at lunchtime, if you like.”

  “There’s no need, Carrie. I’ll be okay—I’ll watch some TV and think about my future.”

  Just then I heard a loud meow coming from outside. I hurried to the front door and opened it. Smoky Joe tore into the house and headed for the kitchen.

  My mother was grinning. “See, I told you he would be back when he was good and ready. I suppose he didn’t want to miss his day at the library.”

  “Or his breakfast,” I said as I got a can of cat food from the pantry.

  “I think we can take this as a sign that things are looking up,” my mother said. “The police will figure out who murdered Ilana, and I’ll come up with a plan for the rest of my life.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  I pulled into a spot in the library parking lot, eager to immerse myself in library programs and events instead of in family crises. With my mother as my houseguest and my father due to arrive in Clover Ridge tomorrow, my personal life was beginning to seem like a soap opera even to me.

  When Angela stopped by my office, I told her my father was coming to Clover Ridge to give my mother moral support. I certainly wasn’t expecting her reaction. Her eyes twinkled as she beamed at me.

  “Oh, Carrie. That is the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard! Jim still loves your mother after all these years.”

  “I don’t think that’s the case, Ange. At least I hope it isn’t the case.”

  “What’s wrong with you? Having your parents get back together is the dream of every child of divorce.”

  “Perhaps a child of ten or even seventeen. I’m thirty years old, in case you’ve forgotten. As for my parents, they’ve been—”

  The library phone rang, cutting short this ridiculous discussion. It was Sally asking me to stop by her office. Angela took off, and Evelyn decided to accompany me on my short walk to Sally’s office.

  “It is rather odd that Jim wants to come here for your mother’s sake.”

  “So you’ve been eavesdropping,” I complained. “Have I no privacy?”

  Evelyn chuckled. “Guilty as charged. I must say, Carrie. Your life is constantly full of surprises.”

  “Lucky me,” I grumbled.

  When I reached her office, Sally handed me a list of movies she thought our patrons would enjoy seeing. She’d recently started watching foreign and indie films and asked if she could make suggestions regarding the movies we showed to our patrons.

  “These look wonderful,” I commented as I scanned the titles. “I really must go to the movies more often.”

  Sally laughed. “Carrie, your life is like a movie. Speaking of which, what’s happening with the movie they were filming now that poor Ilana Reingold’s been murdered?”

  “I heard Dirk Franklin say on the evening news that they hope to go ahead with the movie. He’s looking for a replacement for Ilana right now.”

  Sally waved a dismissive hand. “Yesterday’s news.”

  I stared at her. “What are you talking about?”

  “Liane Walters called me this morning. Dirk’s been brought in for questioning again. She’s terrified John Mathers is about to charge him with the murder.”

  “I had no idea,” I said.

  Back in my own office, I wondered about the latest development in the homicide investigation. Dirk Franklin a murderer? He was slender—actually slight—and had struck me as totally nonthreatening. I shook my head, annoyed with myself for even thinking someone was incapable of murder because he didn’t look the part. From my own experience, I ought to have known better than to judge someone guilty or innocent based on his demeanor. John must have had good cause if he was questioning Dirk again.

  My office phone rang. “Hello, Carrie. It’s Robby. Robby Dowd.”

  “Hi, Robby.” I felt a moment of panic. Was I supposed to have gotten back to him? With all that was happening, I couldn’t remember. And why was he still using the name Robby Dowd? I supposed because I was the only person around who knew his real identity.

  “I called to see if you’ve found out anything new regarding my sister’s case—or my father’s.”

  “Sorry, I’ve been occupied with family matters. My mother’s husband’s in the movie they’re filming here in town.”

  “And Ilana Reingold was murdered only a day after Daphne. They had me down at the station yesterday for one of their ‘interviews.’”

  “They can’t think you had anything to do with Ilana’s murder!”

  “That’s the thing about having been in prison, whether you’ve been exonerated or not.” He scoffed. “I’d never even spoken to the woman, much less known who she was, until I stopped by the Green when they had that meet-and-greet event with the movie people on Saturday.”

  “I can’t see any connection between the two murders, or with your father’s twenty years ago,” I said.

  “Me neither,” Robby said. “Daphne never mentioned knowing Ilana Reingold. They didn’t exactly travel in the same circles.”

  “I haven’t got a clue,” I admitted. “They weren’t murdered the same way. But there is something I did—I asked Dylan to find your mother. That would be helpful, don’t you think? Maybe she’ll tell us who she was involved with all those years ago.”

  “If she really had a lover. Thanks, Carrie, but I’m beginning to think that idea is nothing more than grasping at straws.”

  I hung up, sadly agreeing with him.

  Later that day, driving back from lunch with Angela at our favorite Indian restaurant, I called my mother. “What have you been doing?” I asked.

  “I went for a walk along the river. I’d forgotten how lovely this area is, especially in spring.”

  “Has Tom called?”

  “Several times,” she said. “He’s desperate for me to come back to our rented house, but I’m not ready to do that. I don’t know if I want to live with him any longer.”

  To change the subject, I told her that Dirk had been brought in for questioning again.

  “Better him than me,” my mother said.

  I had to agree with her. “I’ll be home around five twenty.”

  “See you then.”

  Back at the library, I found Tom pacing outside my office.

  “Sorry to barge in here like this, Carrie, but I need to talk to you about your mother.”

  I bet you do. Tom’s eyes were bloodshot, his hair, usually gelled into place, was disheveled, and his shirt was half in, half out of his jeans.

  “You look as though you haven’t been sleeping,” I said as I opened the door and ushered him inside.

  “How can I sleep with everything that’s been happening—Ilana murdered, Brianna staying at your place? I’m a total wreck!”

  Trish rolled her eyes. Without uttering a word, she left what she was working on and exited the office.

  “Tom, it’s not my place to interfere in your relationship with my mother.” I sat down.

  “Please, Carrie. You have to make her see reason.”

  “What reason? You humiliated her by acting like you and Ilana had the hots for each other.”

  “That was it! We were acting. I told Brianna, but she refused to believe me.”

  You did? “Why would you do that?”

  Tom sank into the other chair and exhaled loudly. “She was trying to make Dirk jealous.”

  I found it difficult to picture Dirk in bed with Ilana, the seductress. “Ilana was in love with Dirk?”

  Tom lowered his eyes. “Not exactly, though they had been romantically involved.”

  “So … I don’t get it.”

  Tom cleared his throat. “Dirk recently inherited a bundle of money. Ilana wanted Dirk to marry her. She was in debt and desperately needed the cash.”

  Ah! Got it. “How did she rack up so much debt?”

  “Gambling.”

  “And Ilana thought by playing up to you, she’d made Dirk jealous and he’d ask her to marry him.” I frowned at him. “Sounds awfully pathetic to me.”

  “I know, but she was desperate, and I’d agreed to help her.”

  “Why?”

  “Why?” he echoed. “Because she asked me to.”

  “From what I saw, you were beginning to fall for her all over again.”

  He nodded. “Just a little. Ilana had that way about her.”

  “My mother saw it too, no matter how much you insisted it was all an act.”

  Tom met my gaze. “But I love Brianna. I need her in my life.”

  “From the little she told me, you haven’t been getting along for some time.”

  “I was feeling down for a long time, but it had nothing to do with Brianna. My career was stuck. Outside of a few bit parts, I wasn’t getting any acting roles. But then this came along.”

  “And so did Ilana,” I said wryly.

  “Will you tell Brianna that I love her and I miss her?”

  “Yes,” I said, “but I get the impression she’s trying to decide what she wants for her future.” A devilish impulse prompted me to add, “My dad heard she was questioned about Ilana’s murder and he’s concerned. He feels obliged to come to Clover Ridge to give her moral support.”

  Tom’s expression turned to one of pure anguish. “Jim Singleton’s coming here?”

  I nodded. “Do you have any idea why the police questioned Dirk again?”

  “I ran into him just before I drove here. The poor guy was trembling. The cops found out that he and Ilana had been seeing each other. Not only that—they questioned him about his previous visits to Clover Ridge.”

  “On Saturday, Dirk mentioned that he used to come here to visit his cousin, Liane.” I thought a minute. “Did the police say why they were interested in his previous visits?”

  “They wanted to know if he’d been romantically involved with anyone around twenty years ago.”

  I told Tom once again that I’d give my mother his message, and he left my office somewhat calmer than when we’d started our conversation. I turned on my computer but found it difficult to settle down to work. For one thing, the fact that Tom obviously still loved my mother came as a surprise. I now had a better understanding of his behavior, not that I condoned it. Ilana had asked him to pretend to want her back, he’d kind of fallen for her again, and now she was dead. He hadn’t treated my mother right and he knew it. And now he wanted things to go back to the way they were.

  I had no advice to offer my mother. Only she could decide if she wanted to stay married to Tom. I wished my father wasn’t coming to Clover Ridge. Much as I loved him, he had no horse in this race. He could only complicate matters.

  Surely my parents weren’t about to fall in love with each other all over again—like the plot of this movie. That was fantasy. They had both moved on to new lives, other relationships.

  Then it occurred to me—maybe I wasn’t being fair to my father. He had changed more than my mother had these past few years. He was now a law-abiding citizen with a good job. Maybe he was only acting as a Good Samaritan when I’d told him my mother had been questioned as a murder suspect and it looked like her marriage was on the rocks. Only a few months ago he had been a murder suspect. At any rate, there was nothing I could do to stop him from coming now.

  I was pulled from my thoughts when my cell phone sounded its jingle. My heart sank as I read the name: Phil Demuth. My mother’s lawyer.

  “Hello, this is Carrie Singleton.”

  “Hi, Carrie. Miss Singleton. Phil Demuth here. I’m in the Clover Ridge police station with your mother.”

  I heard voices—too low to make out any words. “Why? What happened?”

  “As we speak, your mother is being questioned again regarding the murder of Ilana Reingold.”

  “But why? I thought after yesterday she was cleared.”

  “So did I. But they got the results of the fingerprints found in Miss Reingold’s hotel room. Your mother’s prints were on the door handle.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  I told Trish I was going to the police station and raced to my car. Minutes later I stormed into the precinct. Gracie raised her eyebrows when she saw me red-faced and out of breath.

  “John’s in his office with your mother and her lawyer.”

  “Is she being charged?”

  “No clue. It’s been a full house today. I can’t imagine John’s charging the whole bunch of them. We haven’t enough cells.”

  “Can I join them, do you think?”

  “I’ll find out.”

  Gracie left and returned a few minutes later. “John said he’s almost through interviewing your mother. She’ll be out very soon.”

  Thank God he isn’t holding her! I released a lungful of air. I was too tense to sit, so I paced the small waiting area. Why were my mother’s prints in Ilana’s room? She’d never mentioned going there.

  My mother looked subdued as she walked toward me. Her lawyer, a Paul Giamatti look-alike in a gray three-piece suit, followed a few paces behind. She murmured something to him, and he approached.

  “Carrie, pleased to meet you. I’m Phil Demuth.” We shook hands.

  My mother gave me a shamefaced smile. “Sorry to drag you away from work, Carrie.”

  “How did you get here?” I asked.

  “Phil drove me.”

  “I can drop her back at your cottage”—he glanced at his watch—“if we leave right now. I’m meeting a client at my office in forty-five minutes.”

  “Is there anything I should know?” I asked him.

  “Linda’s not being charged, though Lieutenant Mathers might want to speak to her tomorrow.”

  “I’ll drive her home,” I said, and turned to my mother. “Wait here. I want to speak to John before I leave.”

  John was on the phone when I entered his office. He cut his conversation short when he saw me.

  “Sorry, Carrie. Your mother’s prints were on Ilana Reingold’s doorknob and a few articles inside her room.”

  “That doesn’t mean she murdered her.”

  He exhaled loudly. “Of course it doesn’t, and—off the record—she’s not my number-one suspect in this homicide. The trouble is, when I questioned her yesterday, she never mentioned entering Ilana Reingold’s room.”

  “She’s been staying with me. I’ll drive her home now.”

  “Good. She worked herself into quite a state when I questioned her.”

  “Probably because she’s having marital issues on top of all this.”

  “So she said.”

  “She doesn’t know it, but my father’s flying in tomorrow. To give her moral support.”

  John burst into a loud guffaw. “That’s all we need—Jim Singleton on the scene.”

  In the car, I told my mother we’d swing by the library so I could collect Smoky Joe, then head for home.

  “I am so sorry, Carrie. I never wanted to be a burden to you,” she said.

  “Why did you go to Ilana’s room?”

  Silence.

  “Mom?”

  “Why do you think? To tell her to stop flirting with Tom. I told her she had her chance to marry him years ago, but instead she broke it off and broke his heart.”

  “What did she say to that?”

  My mother pursed her lips. “She laughed at me. She said Tom still loved her and she could have him back anytime she wanted. I was furious. I wanted to hurt her. I picked up the vase …”

  My heart began to pound. “And you hit her with it?”

  She shook her head. “No, but I wanted to. Believe me, I wanted to.”

  “Then what happened?” I asked.

  “Ilana seemed to change course. She said it would all be over soon and then I could have Tom back.”

  “She wanted to make Dirk jealous,” I said.

  “How do you know that?” my mother demanded.

  “Tom came to see me at the library. He’s miserable and he wants you back.”

  “What does he think—he can flit from me to Ilana and back again?”

  “I think,” I said slowly, “that he was flattered when Ilana asked him to show interest in her and it got out of hand.”

  My mother turned to study my expression. “It sounds like you’re advising me to go back to Tom.”

  “Only if you want to.”