We asked for details, and Molly explained the logistics of the tax assessor’s office. Rebecca Pryce calculated the assessments and dealt with any problems and complaints, but the two clerks handled daily operations.

  “I take care of the first half of the alphabet,” Molly said. “And Judy had M through Z.”

  “But now you have the whole alphabet?” Bambi asked.

  “Lucky me. But enough about my problems.” Molly glanced at me and asked about Truman.

  I shrugged. “I’m not a kid person, but he seems okay.”

  “Cassie’s doing a great job,” Bambi said, but I insisted I was getting lots of help.

  “Even Chance Dooley is helping.”

  “Is he a neighbor?” Molly asked.

  “The Baxters think so,” Bambi said.

  I told my best friend she was very funny and explained the basics of Chance Dooley and Evadeen Deyo’s latest pickle to Molly.

  “This is so funny!” She smiled. “Truman must love it.”

  “And he’s so clever!” I agreed. “Truman’s the one who figured out Evadeen Deyo’s headed to Whoozit.”

  “Who’s Whoozit?”

  “Not who, where,” Bambi corrected. “I can’t believe I know this, but Whoozit’s a planet.”

  “Evadeen has to hitchhike,” I said. “But Chance Dooley has his fancy-shmancy spaceship—”

  Bambi cleared her throat, and I stopped. “You’re not interested in this,” I said.

  Molly shrugged. “To be honest, this is the first time I’ve laughed all week.”

  Maybe so, but I stopped pussy-footing around and asked point blank if she knew who killed Judy.

  “I told that state trooper everything I know,” she said. “It wasn’t much.”

  “Come on, Molly. You must have some ideas.”

  She shot a glance at Judy’s desk. “Well. I know they’re looking for Judy’s boyfriend.” She looked up. “And with those rumors about Ryan Webb floating around—” She stopped and let that hang.

  “Ryan was helping her with some computer issues,” I said.

  She shook her head. “Sorry, but that doesn’t fly with me. Judy didn’t need any computer help. So?” She blinked. “Why was Ryan Webb in that car?”

  ***

  Molly saluted the haunted radiator, locked up the office, and led us out to the deserted parking lot.

  “Where is everyone?” I asked.

  “It is after hours,” Bambi said.

  “Everyone’s gone home to get warm,” Molly added.

  I looked around. “But where’s your car?”

  She told me she walks to work and dug around in her purse to find a scrap of paper. “Please call me if there’s anything I can do?” she asked and wrote down her number.

  I found one of my business cards, and put my home phone number on the back. “You do the same.”

  “I really do want to help,” she said, and I again asked about the murder.

  “You really have no theories?”

  She stared at my card. “I did have one idea, but it’s crazy.”

  Bambi patted my shoulder. “Cassie’s the queen of crazy nuts,” she said. “She loves cockamamie theories.”

  “Well, she won’t love this one,” Molly said and made a point to staring at my business card.

  Again.

  “Me!?” I jumped. “Again!?”

  Both women stared at me. “What do you mean, again?” Bambi asked. “Who else has accused you?”

  I waved a hand and focused on my current accuser. “Why me?”

  “Because,” Molly whined. “But your involvement in all this makes no sense whatsoever.”

  I swallowed. “Umm, Judy never mentioned me?”

  “No. She mentioned you a lot. That’s the problem.” Molly told me what I already knew—Judy Tripp had followed my dead red head-pajama incident closely. “You’re all I heard about for weeks,” she said. “But Judy never mentioned you were related. Can you explain that to me?”

  What a shocker, I couldn’t.

  Chapter 40

  “You’re buying,” Bambi informed me as I ushered her into the Blizzard Bar.

  We spent a second lingering at the doorway. “He told me he’d be the good-looking guy in the back,” I said.

  “He said that? I already don’t like him.”

  Maybe not, but a good-looking guy was waving to us from a back booth.

  I told Bambi sometimes it pays to be recognized by total strangers, and we waded through the crowd.

  He didn’t stand up when we approached, but I smiled anyway and held out my hand. “Cassie Baxter,” I said.

  “Hello, Cassie Baxter. You buying?”

  ***

  Okay, so I bought a pitcher. And for myself, a glass of water. At ninety-eight pounds I really can’t drink and drive, and almost as important, I wanted my wits about me while I talked to Mr. Mystery Man Boyfriend.

  Make that, Mr. Mystery Man Obnoxious Boyfriend. Paul McGraw seemed to take pleasure in berating us from the get-go. For instance, he laughed out loud at Bambi’s name. Yes, others have done that, but this guy was under the impression he was the first to realize her name’s a hoot. And as he helped himself to the pitcher—before serving Bambi—he informed me my “cute as a button act” wasn’t going to fly with him.

  “Then we’ll get along just fine,” I said. “I hate being called cute.”

  “So tell me, cutie-pie, why the hell do you have Truman?”

  Wow. Were we off to a good start, or what?

  “I’m family,” I said.

  “You lie,” he said. “The only family Judy had is the five and a half-year old kid and the senile grandmother.”

  “Umm,” I said brilliantly, but Bambi came to my rescue and insisted I was taking excellent care of Truman.

  “What difference does it make why she has him?” she asked.

  “None, unless she’s the murderer.”

  Oh yeah. This was going really well.

  I decided to focus on the positive. “Captain Sterling doesn’t think I’m the murderer,” I said.

  “So he fell for your cute as a button act?” Paul asked.

  “Bingo,” Bambi mumbled.

  I kicked her under the table and asked Mr. McGraw why the heck I would kill Judy.

  “Do I look like I have all the answers?” he said. “All I know is that, until this week, you didn’t know Truman from Adam.”

  “If you’re so concerned about Truman, give me some alternatives,” I said. “How about you?”

  “Me!?” Paul almost spilled his beer, but then he seemed to consider the possibility. “I’m not ready for a kid,” he said. Did he sound disappointed?

  “Who else is there?” Bambi asked him.

  The only person he could think of was Sarah. “But Judy thought she’s too bossy.”

  Finally, we could agree on something. We also agreed Great Grandma Abernathy wasn’t an option.

  “You know about her?” Paul asked me.

  “She thinks you’re the Tin Man.”

  He tipped his glass toward me. “You the Good Witch of the South?”

  I nodded. “And everyone knows good witches don’t kidnap children or kill people.”

  “Which brings us to you, Paul,” Bambi said. “Did you kill Judy?”

  “No! Why does everyone keep asking me that?”

  “Because you’re the boyfriend, and a mechanic,” I said. “You’d know how to tamper with her car, and you might know enough to build a rudimentary incendiary device.”

  He gulped his beer. “You sound like that state trooper.”

  Which reminded me. I asked Paul why Jason had to go looking for him. “Why didn’t you come forward after the press conference?”

  “It was the middle of the work week.”

  “La-aame,” Bambi sang.

  His head snapped. “Listen, honey.”

  “Don’t call me honey.”

  “Listen, Dr. Lovely-Vixen. I wasn’t even sure they were looking for me until that press conference. Things between Judy and me were casual.”

  Let’s just say, Bambi and I weren’t convinced, but he insisted all his relationships with “the ladies” were casual.

  “I don’t like to brag,” he said. “But I’m the playboy of Hanahan County.”

  I almost spit water halfway across the booth. Bambi was also busy choking, but Paul argued he had quite the reputation.

  He wiggled his eyebrows at Bambi. “Want to find out why, honey?”

  She stopped choking and tapped her wedding ring. “Don’t call me honey, and I’m married.”

  “That’s never stopped me.” He grinned. “You’re missing out. Ask any of the ladies.”

  “Which ladies?” I asked.

  “I’m not the kiss and tell type.”

  “That’s funny,” Bambi said. “You seem exactly like the kiss and tell type.”

  ***

  What a shocker, Bambi was right.

  While she refilled his glass, and while I wondered whether I needed a beer after all, Mr. Supposed Playboy named names. At some point I interrupted and asked if he could skip to anyone who might be remotely connected to the murder.

  “Does Molly Donahue count?” he asked.

  Bambi and I gasped. “You dated Molly?” I hissed.

  “Oh, honey, I’ve done all kinds of things with her. She’s just my type. Cute as a button.”

  I smirked. “Cute doesn’t fly with you, remember?”

  “Oh, yeah.” He turned to Bambi. “How about you, honey?”

  “Don’t call me honey. And I’m still married.”

  “The murder,” I persevered. “Was anyone jealous of your relationship with Judy?”

  “No one knew about me and Judy.”

  “Earth to Paul McGraw, Truman knew, Mrs. Abernathy knew—” I stopped and squinted. “Why didn’t Sarah know?”

  “Duh.” He shook his head. “We’re talking about jealousy. Sarah had a huge crush on me in high school.”

  I squinted. “Sarah Bliss. Had a crush. On you.”

  “You got it, honey.”

  “Don’t call me honey. What about Molly?” I asked. “Why didn’t she know about you and Judy?”

  “Jealousy again?” Bambi asked.

  “You got it, honey. Judy didn’t need any more problems at work.”

  “Don’t call her honey,” I said. “And we already know about the deadbeat boss. We were just there.”

  Paul scowled. “Don’t tell me Ms. Bigshot Boss was actually working on Friday afternoon.”

  “Do you think Judy’s job had something to do with this?”

  “How should I know? Like I told your buddy the state trooper, I don’t know nothing.”

  “Come on, Paul,” I said. “You must have some theory.”

  “Other than Cassie,” Bambi added.

  He shrugged. “How about one of the Webbs?”

  I reminded him their son was in the car.

  “That’s my point,” he said. “They’re involved.”

  “They’re also squeaky clean.”

  “Maybe too squeaky,” Paul said and explained his logic—that Ryan’s parents had heard the rumors. “Take it from me, those rumors are garbage—I was keeping Judy very satisfied—”

  Bambi and I groaned.

  He continued, “—but the Webbs didn’t know that. Maybe they thought Judy was harming their kid. Maybe they were mad.”

  “Mad enough to kill their son?” Bambi asked.

  “It’s called irony, right? Maybe they didn’t know their kid would be in the car.”

  I spoke to Bambi. “They were next door neighbors. The Webbs had easy access to Judy’s car.”

  “And her house,” Paul added.

  I thought about the Webbs, and something else struck me. “Did you ever date Eleanor?” I asked, and Paul jumped about ten feet.

  “You’re kidding me, right?”

  I shrugged. “She’s about your age, and she’s nice-looking.”

  “And you told us the married woman thing is no issue,” Bambi added.

  “Are you guys nuts?”

  “Cassie is,” Bambi answered.

  Paul shook his head Truman-style. “Take it from me, ladies, hoyty-toyty Eleanor Webb wouldn’t be caught dead dating her mechanic.” He smacked the table with both hands. “But enough about me. Let’s hear about Truman. I can’t believe I miss the rug rat.”

  “He does grow on you,” I agreed and mentioned his male-bonding day in Burlington with my father and Joe.

  “Who’s Joe?”

  “Someone else Truman’s growing on.”

  “How’s Notz?”

  “The cat’s growing on Cassie, too,” Bambi said.

  Paul stared at his beer. “I’m glad they’re in good hands,” he said quietly.

  “You can come visit,” I told him, and he smiled. An actual, sincere, smile.

  I smiled back. “You’re starting to grow on me, Paul McGraw.”

  “You want to go out sometime?”

  ***

  “You’re gonna find the killer, right?” Paul asked me as the three of us walked to the parking lot.

  “She’s trying,” Bambi answered.

  “She’s failing,” I mumbled as I fished around in my purse for my keys.

  Paul reached out and turned me around. “I have faith in you, Cassie Baxter. Figure this one out. For Judy?”

  “It would also be nice to know where they were going,” I said. “Any ideas?”

  He shook his head. “Have you asked Truman?”

  “A thousand times. He keeps saying it’s a secret.”

  “Then he locks his lips and throws away the key,” Bambi added.

  Paul tapped his chest. “I taught him that little trick.”

  “Say what?” I shook my head. “Thanks a lot, Paul! That little trick is driving me nuts.”

  “Just find the key.”

  “Say what?”

  He took my keys and jiggled them in front of me. “Pretend to find the pretend key, unlock his lips, and poof! The kid will tell you anything.”

  I blinked at Bambi. “Poof!”

  Chapter 41

  Mr. Hooper’s Holsteins had deserted both the north and south pastures and were likely safely tucked away in their barn by the time Bambi and I headed back to Montpelier. Crabtree College had also closed shop, and the campus parking lot was deserted when I dropped Bambi at her car. I waited until she got it started, and we drove off in opposite directions.

  Deserted summed up Lake Bess, too. I passed no cars and no goats as I made my way around Elizabeth Circle and onto Leftside Lane. After the week I’d had, it felt odd to be alone, but Charlie and Notz took care of that. Charlie dropped his tennis ball at my feet the second I walked through the door, and Notz wrapped himself around my ankles.

  I let the dog out, fed the cat, and poured myself a glass of wine before facing the answering machine.

  Only two messages? I told Notz my day was looking up and hit play.

  “Two things, babe.” Sarah Bliss, of course. “Number one—P.T.’s real name is Percival Theobald. And heads up, Percival Theobald Dent the Third is real interested in why you care. Number two—I never had a crush on Paul McObnoxious. Nada, zero, zip. You got it?”

  I glanced at Notz. “How does she know about Paul McGraw?”

  “Crush, my ass,” the voice of Sarah continued. “Tell your buddy Captain Sterling he’s a nincompoop to believe Paul McObnoxi—”

  “Jason must have spoken to her,” I answered my own question. I stepped away to let Charlie back in, and when I got back to the answering machine Ms. Mauve was speaking.

  “—utmost importance that I speak to you, Dr. Baxter. Where are you?” The voice of everyone’s favorite social worker then listed all the places she’d called and visited in hopes of finding me. “Or Truman,” she added.

  “Or Joe Wylie,” I added.

  “Leftside Lane was completely deserted.” She sighed. “No one was home.”

  I winked at the animals. “Told you s—” I jumped. “Deserted!” I said.

  Charlie thumped his tail, Notz yawned, and I grabbed the receiver.

  ***

  “Percival Theobald—”

  “—Dent the Third,” I finished for Jason. “But that’s not why I called. The parking lot was deserted!”

  “What parking lot, and how do you know Deputy Dent’s nam—” He stopped himself and asked me to hold on, and I heard some scrambling in the background.

  “Pencils,” I told the animals, and when he got back on the line, I congratulated him on his very busy day. “Paul McGraw, Percival Theobald Dent, Sarah Bliss.”

  Pencil number one, down. “How do you know I talked to Sarah?”

  “She left me a message.”

  “Of course she did.”

  “Which is how I know P.T.’s full name.”

  I think I heard Jason shake his head. “Can we agree to rule out Deputy Dent?” he asked.

  “Of course,” I said. “Because the parking lot was deserted.”

  He sighed and asked which parking lot, and I told him the one at the Hanahan County Administrative Building.

  “You talked to Rebecca Pryce and Molly Donahue?”

  “Just Molly,” I said. “She invited me, so it doesn’t count as an errand.”

  Another pencil snap. “Did she threaten you?”

  “Of course not! She’s no bigger than I am, and Bambi was with me.”

  “Great! You brought your accomplice.”

  “Sidekick,” I corrected. “Nothing really struck me until we got back to the parking lot.”

  “I hear it was deserted.”

  I ignored the sarcasm. “Molly tried to convince me she walks to work.”

  “Sounds healthy.”

  “Oh, come on! Don’t you see the significance?” I started pacing, tripped over Notz, and narrowly missed Charlie’s tail. “Maybe Molly drove Judy off the road on Sunday, and maybe she damaged her car, and that’s why she’s walking to work.”

  “Way ahead of you.” Jason told me Judy’s car had not been rear-ended. “The killer’s car likely suffered no damage.”

  I stopped pacing and stared at the spot where Truman and his toys had re-enacted the crash. The other car hadn’t actually hit his mother’s car—