I hope I didn’t lay it on too thick.

  “Sorry. I can’t help you. I haven’t seen him in years, and I probably wouldn’t have spoken to him even if he had called. I don’t have anything pleasant to say about him. He’s not the guy his fans think he is.”

  “Everyone has a story.” Cassidy bit her lip, not knowing how much she could push this person.

  “There’s no story here. Can’t help you. I don’t want to talk about him.” The line went dead.

  Cassidy googled Amber and found five pages of different women who shared the name. There were way too many to find out which one she talked to. Sleuthing looked much easier on TV. Feeling deflated, she added her notes to her spreadsheet. A wave of dread washed over her. How was she going to give the planner to the sheriff without incriminating the Pearly Girls or herself? Plus, she had touched it without gloves.

  She pinched the bridge of her nose to fight back the ache building behind her eyes. “Elvis, Veronica Mars makes it look so easy. I need to figure out how to get this to the police anonymously.” She slid the planner in her desk drawer. A problem for another day.

  THURSDAY EVENING

  After an entire afternoon of worrying about what to do with Johnny Storm’s day planner and how she was going to get it to the police without arousing suspicion, Cassidy pushed the rocker’s death out of her mind and decided to escape to the show instead. Too bad she didn’t think about inviting anyone to go with her. It could have been a fun girls’ night out.

  Trying not to feel sorry for herself about her lack of a social life, she wandered the row of food trucks. The mixture of scents floating through the air made her stomach growl as she eagerly checked out all the food vendors and their brightly colored trucks. The variety covered everything from fusion tacos and sushi to barbecue and hot dogs.

  After she purchased two shrimp tacos and a peach tea, Cassidy found a spot near the shed that was used as the stage’s control room. She leaned against the rough wooden wall and took a bite, lettuce spilling over the edge of the paper. Today, several men and women stood behind the big window in headsets and dark outfits and monitored all the sound equipment the promotions people had rented. They stared at the screens and occasionally said something to someone backstage.

  After she devoured her tacos—she hadn’t realized until then just how hungry she was—she balled up the wrapper and took one last swig of her tea before heading to the trash can. Mixing in with the crowd, she walked the perimeter to check on things. Not much was out of the ordinary. Guests meandered to and from the concessions to their seats. Nothing was out of place. Relaxing a bit, she decided to do one more lap around the amphitheater before finding a good seat for the show.

  Blending in with the growing crowd around the food trucks, she whipped around when she felt someone lightly tap her shoulder. At first, it felt like a crowd bump, but when it happened again, she turned to see who was trying to get her attention.

  Deputy Turner stood behind her in his all-black uniform and mirrored sunglasses.

  “I didn’t mean to startle you. I wanted to check in when I saw you walk past,” Deputy Turner said. He rocked back on his heels and put a hand on each of his hips.

  She chuckled softly in an attempt to appear nonchalant, and not surprised, by his sudden appearance. “How are things going in your investigation? Any more leads?” The day planner crept into her head.

  “It’s slow and steady, but the team feels we’re on a good path. Things are falling into place. It’s kinda nice to be outside for a little while this evening. We’ve been in that war room for days, following up on leads. We spend a lot of time on the phone or on the computer. It makes for a long day.”

  She stared at him, hoping he’d divulge more information, but she was disappointed. Perhaps he needed a nudge. “Spending your time looking for crooks and murderers. Any good suspects?”

  Deputy Turner pursed his lips and seemed to search somewhere off in the distance for his answers. “We’ve ruled out a few with solid alibis, but we’re still looking at folks who were with him the night before.”

  A jolt of anxiety flooded through her. Were they still looking at Roxie? They couldn’t be. She didn’t have anything to do with the attack on Jack. She closed her eyes for a couple of beats to quell the worries about her friend.

  “You okay?” He took her hand, then let it go just as quickly.

  Her eyes fluttered open. Did he just grab my hand? “I’m fine. I was thinking about all the things I need to get done before we wrap up this festival.” I don’t want to mention Roxie and the gals. No sense giving him any new ideas. She spotted Roxie and Ruthanne near the stage. “If my team can help with anything, please let me know. I’m going to go sit with the gals before the show starts.”

  He nodded and scanned the crowds near the food trucks as Cassidy made her escape. She chided herself for not having a snappy comeback about it not being Roxie. She had panicked when it sounded like the police still had her on their suspect list. Roxie did a lot of wild and crazy things, but she’d never kill anyone. Shaking off her conversation with the deputy, who always made her feel like she was under surveillance, Cassidy picked up her pace to put some distance between them.

  Relieved to have spotted the Pearly Girls, Cassidy slid onto the bench next to Ruthanne. “Hey, there. It’s good to see y’all.”

  “I’m excited to be here. It’s so nice to be a free woman again.” Ruthanne waved her arms in the air. “I’m not made for jail or camping. I don’t look good in orange or striped jumpsuits.”

  “I’m glad we’re sprung, and all the charges were dropped. I don’t look that great in orange either.” Roxie winked.

  “Where’s the rest of the gang?” Cassidy looked around.

  “They wimped out and decided to rest up,” Roxie harumphed. “Too many adventures for them lately. But they’ll be here tomorrow for the big show. We’re expecting the VIP treatment after Karl dumped us and let us take the rap.”

  “I thought he was a nicer person than that.” Ruthanne sipped some pink cocktail with a pineapple wedge. “He’s on my list now. I can’t believe he left us to face the charges when the whole thing was his idea. And we were just trying to help him.”

  A drumbeat echoed through the amphitheater, and strobe lights flashed across the stage. The band, made of up five older guys, took the stage in pink-and-purple-sequined jumpsuits with big collars. The lead singer had bedazzled sunglasses and a purple-feathered boa.

  The drummer pounded out the first number and the crowd roared. They must have recognized the song. Cassidy enjoyed the funk and disco numbers, even though she had to google some of the references and jokes the band made.

  During the intermission, Roxie and Ruthanne returned with a funnel cake and frozen margaritas to share. “I gave the guy in front of me in line your office email.” Roxie winked. “His name is Josh, and he’s new in town. He’s looking to meet people.”

  “She also told the nice bartender about you, too. Josh looked like a preppy with rumpled hair and a five-o’clock shadow. What I’d call the scruffy look, but his clothes were nice. But if it were me, I’d pick Reed the Margarita Maker. He had blond highlights and cute dimples. And his ice-blue eyes sparkled.”

  “You both are incorrigible,” Cassidy whispered. “Thanks for the input and encouragement, but I can find my own dates.”

  “But you haven’t, so we’re helping.” Roxie shook her finger at Cassidy. “A girl your age should be out every night. You work too hard, and you’re always hanging out with us. It’s time to make a move. Your business is stable. You can slack off a bit and enjoy life.”

  “Exactly. My hairdresser’s nephew is new in town, too. He works at the wine bar on Main Street,” Ruthanne added. “We want you to have some fun. Hey, what about that cute deputy? He’s been hanging around here a lot lately. And we saw y’all talking again earlier.” Ruthanne wiggled her eyebrows. “Maybe he’d like to go to dinner.”

  “He’s investigating a murder.” Cassidy’s cheeks warmed. “And I was asking him some questions. I was trying to get information out of him. Nothing more.”

  “Is she protesting too much?” Roxie raised one perfectly sculpted eyebrow.

  “He is cute,” Ruthanne said. “You should ask him out.”

  “No. He’s not my type. He’s all business. Plus, he’s always lecturing me about something. So not interested.” She wrinkled her nose.

  “Uh huh, me definitely thinks she protests too much. You should ask him out. I bet he’s fun when he’s out of his uniform.” Roxie flashed a mischievous grin.

  Much to Cassidy’s relief, the conversation faded as the trio dug into their snacks. Cassidy stuffed her mouth with funnel cake so she wouldn’t have to talk any more about Deputy Turner. When the announcer introduced the next band, the crowd noise was too loud to carry on a conversation.

  The high-energy B-52s cover band kept the crowd on its feet for most of the show. Cassidy recognized some of the hits from the eighties and joined Roxie, Ruthanne, and most of the audience as they danced in the aisles.

  Later, after waving goodbye to the gals, Cassidy headed home. Maybe I should let the police handle the investigation. My research isn’t making any progress. I should spend my time doing something fun instead of constantly thinking about murder. A gloomy mood seeped into her consciousness. Taking a deep breath, she continued her walk around the edge of the property near the woods before turning toward the farmhouse. Most of the crowd had disappeared. Maybe it was time to get more involved in town things and meet new people. It couldn’t be healthy to spend every waking moment at work. Okay…new resolution to make a point to be more social. But what should I do? A craft class? Dance lessons? A book club? Online dating?

  As she trekked around the property, the stalled murder investigation crept to the forefront of her mind. Could the sheriff’s team still suspect Roxie? There was no way she had anything to do with Johnny Storm’s death. They needed to look at the forty or so women he ranked in his calendar as part of the suspect pool. Her gut told her there were more like Amber Ellis who weren’t Johnny Storm fans. She cringed when she remembered the planner. How was she going to turn it over to the sheriff without explaining how she obtained it? Deputy Turner would be all over it with a million questions.

  Lost in thought, she didn’t hear the footsteps until they were right on her. Someone in all black rushed past her and into the woods. Her heart raced and panic arced through her entire body. She took a breath, attempting to calm her nerves. Not sure if it was a man or a woman, she made a split decision to follow whoever it was to see what was going on. The sound of crashing footsteps disappeared under the dark canopy of the leaves.

  Is this the same guy as before?

  Several yards into the woods, it was so dark even the beam on her phone’s flashlight didn’t help much. Cassidy paused to listen to any noises to give her a clue to the runner’s location. She dashed off a quick text to Mateo Domingo in case his guards were nearby.

  A stick cracked and broke up the debate she was having in her head about whether to contact the sheriff’s office. An icy feeling surged through her veins. She held her breath and listened. Someone was nearby.

  Another twig snapped. Was it closer to her? Or farther away? She counted to ten and let out a long breath through her nose.

  Then the musical ringtone for her security contact echoed through the woods. In the quiet forest, the music was jarring.

  Fight-or-flight instincts battled it out. Flight won. She tore off through the woods, trying not to trip on any roots or ruts in the ground. Ignoring the branches and underbrush tearing at her skin and clothing, she ran like she hadn’t since her soccer days in high school.

  She didn’t stop until she made it to the patio behind the office. Catching her breath, she fumbled with the key. After several tries, it slid into the lock until it clicked. When she finally got the door open, Elvis jumped on her legs, begging for his evening walk. She sputtered, “Okay, buddy. But it’s going to have to be a quick one. We need to stay near the house tonight.” Unconcerned about potential intruders, Elvis headed out the door as soon as she cracked it wide enough for him to slip out. Cassidy, on the other hand, flipped on the floodlights and stepped out only a few feet from the porch. Her head turned at every night sound, and she couldn’t relax until they were both locked inside her apartment.

  Then she remembered to check her voicemail from Mateo. Again, his guys didn’t find anyone prowling around the property. Two of the guards walked in the woods for several yards, but there was no indication of a trespasser.

  I know what I saw and heard.

  “Elvis, I’m not sure that makes me feel better or worse. Somebody ran into the woods. Again.”

  She fired off a text to Mateo to thank his team for checking and asked the overnight crew to watch for any trespassers. Perhaps it really was time she beefed up security at her place—more cameras, at least.

  Heading toward the patio, a tall figure waving both arms trotted toward her. “Cassidy! Cassidy!”

  Still gun-shy from her earlier encounter, she hesitated. Some of the panic subsided when she realized it was Deputy Turner.

  “What’s up?” She tried to keep her voice from quaking. Elvis launched himself at the deputy’s shoes. The dog was determined to get the law enforcement officer’s attention and stall for more outdoor time.

  “I talked to one of your guards. Any sign of the person you saw in the woods?” He patted Elvis.

  “No. He or she hightailed it into the forest. The person was really tall from what I could tell, so I’m guessing it’s a he. Anyway, he tore into the underbrush. I followed but couldn’t catch him.”

  He shined his flashlight on her and pulled a twig out of her long, curly hair. “It looks like you ran quite the race there. You’re all scratched up. You better go take care of that.”

  She nodded. “There wasn’t really a path in the woods.”

  “And of course, you decided to follow instead of calling us. Because that’s what Mrs. Fletcher or Miss Marple would do. I think someone watches too many detective shows.”

  Cassidy clenched one hand at her side, bristling at being scolded yet again. “I called my security guards. I didn’t know if it was police-worthy yet.” She stared back at the imposing deputy, daring him to lecture her.

  “With all the craziness around here, err on the side of caution and call it in,” he said. “It’s our job to figure it out. We want to make sure everyone is safe.”

  She continued to stare at him without saying a word. There was no way she could remain civil if he talked to her like a child again.

  “I’ll make sure you get inside safely. Lock your door.” He motioned for her to go ahead of him toward the patio.

  Her heart was still pounding from her race through the woods, and from being startled. She was pretty sure she’d be sleeping with a baseball bat tonight.

  Shutting the door behind her, Cassidy brushed aside the feeling of guilt about not telling him about Johnny Storm’s planner. She soothed her conscience by telling herself that if the professional forensics team missed the planner in their search, but the Pearly Girls found it, perhaps she had the better detective team. At least they were better snoopers.

  FRIDAY MORNING

  It was the last big weekend of the Groovin’ through the Decades concert series, so Cassidy treated herself and Elvis to a longer than normal walk after breakfast to soak in some of the solitude of the mountains before they dove headfirst into planning for the next round of events.

  As they cut through to the meadow, guys in black were packing up the outside gear. Beau sat on a camp stool off to the side and scrolled through his phone.

  “Good morning.” She repeated the greeting more loudly when he didn’t look up the first couple of times she spoke.

  “Hey, good morning. Ready for the last big hurrah? I hope you and your friends are ready for some VIP treatment. I had Bianca save you some really good seats.”

  “That will be fun. I’m sure Roxie, Kate, Aileen, and Ruthanne are looking forward to it. They’ve been fans for quite a while.”

  “And you need to come, too,” he said. “Karl owes all of you a debt of gratitude. I’m glad you’re still fans after all his antics. Sometimes, he can be too much.”

  “Uh, do you have a minute? I have a music question. I’m curious about how things work in your industry.” Cassidy tried to come off more carefree about it so he wouldn’t suspect why she was asking.

  “Sure. I’ll try to answer your questions. The lawyers and accountants take care of the big stuff like rights and contracts. But I know a couple of things.” Beau set his phone on his thigh and stared at her.

  “Do all the band members get an equal share of the royalties? Or would someone get more or less, and when would that happen? And who decides all that?”

  His eyebrows furrowed until they formed a giant V above the bridge of his nose. “It depends. Some bands make a pact, and it’s in their contract to share everything equally. Sometimes, the songwriter gets the biggest cut. Sometimes, the original members get a larger cut than newer folks. Sometimes, it’s the lead singer. It depends on how they set up their contracts. There are a lot of bands who don’t write their own music, so that gets into all kinds of lawyerly things. There’re a lot of factors. Everything depends on the set of particular circumstances. So, I guess the answer is, it depends.”

  Cassidy did her best to keep her expression neutral but inquisitive—without coming off as overly curious. It wouldn’t do her any good if he became suspicious and clammed up. “I’m curious and fascinated with this music world. It’s all very interesting. I didn’t have any clue about the ins and outs and what goes into writing a song and getting it on the radio.”

  “There are a lot more ways for musicians these days. The internet opened up some avenues that had been controlled by the music industry for a long time. It’s good for the indies, but if folks want to really make it with a wide distribution, then they need a crackerjack management team to look out for their best interests.” His chest puffed out a bit as he straightened his back and raised his nose in the air.