“But you’re not interested in all us old folks,” she said eventually.

  “Actually I am, but let’s go back Iris Abernathy’s family.” I grabbed a pen and paper. “The Eskews,” I said. “Who else is there?”

  “Not a soul.”

  I refrained from throwing the pen across the room, took a deep breath, and asked my elderly friend to brace herself. “There’s more bad news, Fanny, Captain Sterling’s involved.”

  “Such a nice man.” She gasped. “Surely it wasn’t—”

  “It was murder,” I said quietly. “I’m sorry.”

  She let the bad news sink in for a minute before insisting she wanted to help. “The child, especially,” she said. “What can I do for little Truman?”

  I told her I needed some advice. “I think he should see a counselor.”

  “Absolutely.” Fanny explained that five and a half-year olds can’t always express their feelings, but they understand a lot more than adults give them credit for. “Take him to Leslie Settle,” she said with confidence.

  I fished around in my purse to find the card I tossed in there earlier. “That’s the name the social worker gave me.”

  “Listen to the social worker, Cassie. Truman should talk to Dr. Settle sooner rather than later. Shall I make the appointment?”

  “You’d do that for me?”

  Fanny insisted she’d do anything for me, and also insisted Dr. Settle would drop everything for a child in crisis. “How about later today?” she asked. “Five-ish?”

  I said five-ish sounded fine.

  Chapter 17

  I was tackling a less than perfect essay when Captain Sterling popped his head in my office. “Why do you frown every time you see me?” he asked.

  I shrugged. “You haven’t exactly been the harbinger of good news lately.” I gestured him in, but he stayed put.

  “Let me make it up to you,” he said. “How about lunch?”

  He didn’t have to ask twice. I dropped the essay, grabbed my purse, and ignored the “Hunky-boo” silent-shouts from Amy Peyton as we walked by her desk.

  I expected we’d go someplace on campus, but when Sterling found out I didn’t have another exam until three, he suggested Bouillabaisse Bistro. “It’s close by,” he said.

  “They use cloth napkins there.”

  “Do you have something against cloth napkins?”

  Here’s a surprise, I didn’t. But I was a little uncomfortable with all the stares we got as we crossed the campus parking lot.

  “I hope the students know you’re not arresting me,” I said.

  “Why would I arrest you?”

  “No reason,” I sang and hopped into the patrol car for the second time that day.

  ***

  “Truman Tripp has a lot of junk,” Sterling said as we got underway.

  “Tell me something I don’t know.”

  He shot me a glance. “His bedroom is too girlie. I almost can’t blame Ms. Bliss for snooping around Maple Street for some decent sheets.”

  “Sarah did not snoop,” I said. “She called you the minute she saw the mess.”

  “Right.”

  I cleared my throat. “But back to your search,” I said. “Did you find anything?”

  “I confiscated one toy.”

  “Really?” I turned to face him. “What toy?”

  He pulled into the restaurant parking lot.

  “What toy?” I asked again.

  We climbed out of the car and walked across the parking lot.

  “What toy?”

  He held the door for me. “Did anyone ever tell you patience is a virtue?”

  “Everyone. What toy?”

  The hostess led us to a table in the back, and we barely had time to sit, before our waitress arrived to take our drink orders.

  I ordered tea, and she turned to Sterling. “The usual, Jason?”

  “Thanks, Rhonda.” He nodded, and she wandered off.

  “The usual Jason?” I said. “Aren’t you on duty or something?”

  “My usual is black coffee.” He waved for me to pick up the menu. “They have great food.”

  “Would you please tell me something I don’t know? What toy?”

  About then, Rhonda came back with our beverages, and asked if we’d like to order lunch. I gave a quick glance at the menu and ordered the mushroom crepes, Sterling chose the plat du jour—beef bourguignon—and Rhonda finally left.

  “Truman’s stuff,” I said again. “You didn’t take Cosmic Cow, did you?”

  “Who?”

  “His toy cow. She’s new, but I think she’s his favorite. I can’t see why you’d want it—”

  “I didn’t take the cow.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief. “Truman loves that cow.”

  Sterling scowled. “After what happened, I’m surprised he’s not afraid of cows.”

  I thought about it and decided Truman might especially like cows. “Mr. Hooper told me they were very concerned on Sunday,” I said. “Maybe Truman sensed the cows wanted to help him.”

  “You spoke to Marlon Hooper?”

  I bit my lip. “Maybe.”

  He continued staring at me while he fished around in his shirt pocket and pulled out three pencils. “I planned ahead,” he said. “Hit me.”

  I smirked. “It’s not like I made a special trip or anything. The farm’s on my way to work, and I was stopped anyway, and—”

  A pencil broke.

  “And we aren’t talking about my errands, anyway,” I said. “What toy did you take?”

  His answer was the kiddie computer.

  I threw my hands up. “Why didn’t you say so? That’s no problem. Truman hasn’t played with it since he moved in.”

  “Really? That’s unexpected.”

  I put my arms down. “It is?”

  “I’m not a kid person, but I have a niece about his age,” he said. “She’s permanently glued to her computer gizmo.”

  I shrugged and asked what he thought he’d find on Truman’s computer gizmo, and Sterling admitted he had no idea, but wanted his tech experts to take a look. “Hopefully I’ll return it before he realizes it’s missing.”

  Rhonda came back with lunch, and as we dug into a delicious meal, I asked about the other computers he’d confiscated. “You have Judy’s home and office computers, right?” I asked. “Where did she work, again?”

  Sterling stopped eating. “You mean you don’t know?”

  My fork went clattering to the floor.

  “Umm!” I stuck my head under the table to retrieve the fork, all the while cursing Sarah for not telling me more about Judy’s job.

  I crossed my fingers, and popped back up. “Judy was a civil servant!” I said all confident-like, and Sterling and I blinked at each other until Rhonda arrived with a clean fork.

  “Your cousin worked at the county assessor’s office,” he told me after Rhonda left.

  “Of course!” I smacked my forehead. “How could I forget that?”

  Mr. State Trooper squinted at me and said he did not know, especially since Judy had held the same job for over a decade. “Other than taking family leave to have Truman.” He stared at me. “You do remember that, Ms. Baxter? When Truman was born?”

  I kept a firm grip on my fork. “Of course,” I squeaked.

  ***

  Sterling point-blank told me I’m a very odd woman. He grinned a little. “But not as odd as your father.”

  “The Looney Tunes gene runs rampant in the Baxter family.” I swiped the last mushroom up with the last piece of French bread. “Let me guess,” I said. “Bobby told you all about Chance Dooley’s latest pickle while he was showing you around the house.”

  “He called it the Flickle pickle.”

  “Did he mention Evadeen Deyo and Commissioner Dingle? I hope you gave him some ideas.”

  “I’m not in law enforcement for nothing.” Sterling raised an eyebrow. “Your father told me another story, too.”

  Holy moly!

  The old man drives me nuts, but surely he wouldn’t mention that kidnapping thing without first consulting me—

  “Don’t look so worried.”

  I looked up, and Sterling was smiling.

  “It’s a great story, Ms. Baxter. Your father told me while we were checking the kid’s bike.” More smiling. “Then he showed me the scrapbook.”

  I groaned.

  “You were tough.” Sterling smiled some more. “Girlie, but tough.”

  I groaned again and asked if we could please move on.

  “But I’m still trying to understand your family.” He finished the last of his dish and pushed the plate away. “How exactly are you related to Truman Tripp?”

  Oh. Perfect.

  I tried smiling while Sterling gave me the earth-shaking news that my father had been unclear about our family tree.

  “Dessert?” Rhonda stepped up to ask.

  “Dessert!” I think I clapped. And I know I was exceedingly interested in hearing all the options. Captain Sterling ordered the lemon parfaits, and I chose the chocolate mousse. But eventually Rhonda abandoned me, and we got back on track.

  “Your family tree?” he asked.

  “Oh that,” I said. I crossed my fingers, silently thanked Fanny Baumgarten for telling me Mrs. Abernathy’s first name, and launched into some malarkey about how about Judy’s grandmother and my Grammie Maloney were half-sisters.

  “You can’t tell me anything more?” he asked.

  “More?” I squeaked.”

  “About your cousin. I’d appreciate any additional information.”

  I reminded him Sarah Bliss was much closer to Judy than I ever was. “I think you should talk to Sarah.”

  Sterling frowned. “I think you’re more open-minded than Ms. Bliss, especially about the ugly rumors.”

  “Dessert!” Rhonda presented our desserts, and I glanced at my mousse. I was stuffed. Why had I ordered desser—

  Sterling tapped the table, and I looked up.

  “The rumors about Judy and Ryan,” I said. “There was no boyfriend. Sarah says so.”

  “I heard a different story at Judy’s place of employment.”

  Perfect. We were back to Judy’s job. You know—the job she had held for over a decade. The one I was probably supposed to know about.

  I crossed my fingers yet again. “What does her boss say?” I asked. Judy had to have a boss, right?

  She did! But supposedly Rebecca Pryce—the boss—hadn’t been all that helpful.

  “What about her co-workers?” I asked. Judy had to have co-workers, right?

  “Co-worker.” Sterling emphasized the singular. “The Hanahan County tax assessor’s office is a small operation.”

  “What did she have to say?” I asked and crossed my fingers the co-worker was a she.

  Will wonders never cease, she was! And according to Sterling, Molly Donahue had been a lot more concerned than Rebecca Pryce.

  “Especially about Truman,” he said. “Once I convinced her he was fine, Ms. Donahue was willing to talk about your cousin and Ryan Webb.”

  I grimaced. “She really thinks they were involved?”

  “She can’t see any other reason why he was in the car.”

  “Sarah says he was helping her with some computer problem.”

  Sterling nodded. “That’s what his parents claim also—the computer whiz kid theory.”

  It sounded very feasible to me. “Joe helps my father with his computer all the time,” I said.

  “But Rebecca Pryce, Molly Donahue, and even Sarah Bliss all say your cousin was computer savvy.” He pointed his fork at me. “Do you agree?”

  Let’s face it, I couldn’t very well disagree.

  “And a computer problem still doesn’t explain why Ryan was in that car. It would help to know where they were headed.” He nodded to me. “You really have no idea?”

  What a shocker. I really didn’t.

  ***

  “Sarah has some ideas,” I said as we left the restaurant.

  “I bet she does.”

  “Sarah’s smart,” I said firmly. “You shouldn’t underestimate her.”

  Sterling opened the passenger door and gave me a very odd look. “Don’t worry. I’m not.”

  “Good.” I hopped into the patrol car and explained Sarah’s theory as we drove back to campus, and he agreed the tragedy might not have been about Judy at all. But he also insisted he’d checked into the Webbs.

  “It’s my job to think the unthinkable,” he told me. “Edward and Eleanor Webb are both squeaky clean.”

  “Do you have any theories?” I asked as he turned onto campus.

  “One person does keep popping up.”

  “Well, why didn’t you say so?” I shook my head. “Who? Who, who?”

  “You already know who.” He stopped the car and faced me. “Sarah Bliss.”

  I blinked.

  Sarah—insert colorful words here—Bliss.

  Chapter 18

  I swear I only tripped twice on my way into the humanities building, and only three more times on my way up the stairs. I thanked my lucky stars Amy wasn’t at her desk, and tripped across the reception area and into my office.

  “Look,” Amy said. “She’s all flustered.”

  Oh, goody. Amy Peyton, Ms. Crabtree College Grapevine Guru, was lounging in one of the chairs at my desk. She looked comfortable, but not quite as comfortable as Bambi, who sat behind my desk with her feet up on a stack of exams.

  “Spill,” Bambi ordered.

  I turned to Amy. “You called her, didn’t you?”

  “Hell, yes. The minute you sashayed out of here attached to that hunky-boo cop’s arm.”

  “I did not sashay.”

  “Sure looked like sashaying to me.”

  I stomped my size-five foot. “And I was not attached to his arm.”

  Amy winked at Bambi. “Told you it would be worth your trouble to get over here.”

  ***

  I used my other size-five foot to kick Amy Peyton out of my office.

  I closed the door with a loud bang, slipped into the chair she’d vacated, and shot my supposed best friend a withering glare. “Use the phrase hunky-boo cop even once, and I swear I’ll throw you out, too.”

  Bambi took her feet down and sat up. “Spill.”

  “He took me to Bouillabaisse.”

  A gasp. “They use cloth napkins there!”

  I rolled my eyes. “FYI, Jason Sterling is not my type.”

  “Why not?”

  “How about height? The guy’s about seventeen inches over six feet tall. I’d need a stepladder to kiss him.”

  “Have you thought about kissing him?”

  I reminded her I could still toss her out of my office.

  “I wouldn’t be surprised if he told you to call him Jason,” she said.

  I bit my lip.

  “Woo hoo!” Bambi raised two triumphant fists, and I suggested she get a grip.

  “Why are you so interested in Jason Sterling, anyway?” I asked. “I thought you were all cuckoo about my supposed romance with Joe. I thought you liked Joe.”

  “I do like Joe. But I’m not always sure you like Joe.”

  I shrugged. “Maybe Joe’s looking elsewhere.”

  “What!?” Bambi sat up even straighter and a few stray exams fell to the floor. “Who is she?”

  “Ms. Mauve,” I said. “She stopped by again last night.”

  “The social worker? What for this time?”

  “Apparently to flirt with Joe,” I said. “She found me at his house.”

  Bambi cringed. “Where, exactly?”

  “Oh, for Pete’s sake. In the living room. And you should have seen the woman.” I jerked a thumb at my office door. “She could give Amy a lesson in the corny-coy-flirtatious act.”

  “Is she cute?”

  I thought about it. Yes, she was. “But she’s not a very snappy dresser.”

  Bambi pointed to my own not-so-snappy outfit and argued that Joe Wylie didn’t seem to care about clothes. “He’s more interested in what’s underneath the clothes,” she said.

  I rolled my eyes. “Can we get back to Jason Sterling now?”

  “Absolutely. Tell me everything.”

  “How about I tell you the most important thing? Sarah’s his number one suspect.”

  Bambi’s mouth dropped open.

  “My sentiments exactly,” I said.

  ***

  “You’re in cahoots with a killer?” Bambi said.

  “Nooo! Sarah’s a good guy.” I got up to pace. “A rude, impatient, kind of has to grow on you good guy, but a good guy nonetheless. Although she does keep—” I scowled. “Popping up.”

  “Like when she called you out of the blue on Sunday.”

  “After she’d already been to the scene of the crime. And then there’s her numerous trips to Judy’s house.” I stopped to face my friend. “The house that got ransacked last night. Sarah Bliss reported it.”

  Bambi stared aghast.

  “Don’t stare at me like that.”

  “How did you react when Captain Sterling sprang this Sarah Bliss theory on you?” she asked.

  “I compared her to Evadeen Deyo.”

  “I’m sure that helped.”

  Not exactly. But I started pacing again and explained how the situations were darned similar. “Evadeen’s in trouble with Commissioner Dingle simply for helping Chance Dooley so much,” I said. “And poor Sarah might be in trouble for helping Truman.”

  “Poor Sarah?” Bambi shook her head. “Why are you defending this woman, Cassie? She’s a—”

  “A very nice person, deep down inside,” I interrupted.

  Bambi took a deep breath. “She did report the ransacking. I suppose that says something positive.

  “Maybe,” I said. “But according to Jason, people who report crimes are often the actual criminals.” I stepped over to the filing cabinet to gather my next round of midterms. “So if Sarah really were the killer, why would she ransack the house? She could have gone through everything when she packed Truman’s junk and no one would be the wiser.”

  “Maybe she purposely trashed the place so it wouldn’t look like it was her,” Bambi said. “Maybe she’s trying to trick your state trooper.”

  “He’s not my state trooper.” I grabbed the exams and waved for her to follow, and once we were safely past Amy, Bambi asked how well I knew Sarah.