“Well, if they come to the bookstore, I bet they’ll stop by your shop on the way in or out.” She tucked the paper into her pocket.

  “It’s nice to have other businesses help drive traffic.” Sam started down the trail following the crowd.

  “Yes, it was sweet of him.” Rarity followed her down the path.

  “Yes, it was. Very sweet.” Sam didn’t look at her, but Rarity could tell her friend was grinning.

  * * * *

  On Sunday the shop was closed, so Rarity hung around the house. She swam in the morning, then puttered with a cookie recipe she’d been meaning to try. She needed to settle in and read, but she kept thinking about the hike. Archer had been right—it had been something she needed to see. Maybe she should send him a thank-you note. Or call him.

  Except she only had the trail hiking company’s number. It might look wrong if Archer’s girlfriend was the one acting as a receptionist. Except if he had a girlfriend, wouldn’t he have told her? Not that it would be something to come up in conversation. Especially since they’d just talked about hiking, hiking books, and Sedona.

  Killer watched her from his perch on the back of the couch. She pointed her finger at him. “If you’re not careful, someone will think you’re a cat.”

  He barked but got down and curled up on the cushion for his nap.

  Rarity decided she was going to join him and took a glass of tea over to where a book lay that needed reading. She picked it up and fell into the story.

  On Monday the shop didn’t open until late, so she spent the morning in Flagstaff grocery shopping, then stopped at the pet store to bring Killer home a treat. After dropping over a hundred dollars there, she decided it was time to head back to Sedona. Pets were expensive. Especially when you started buying toys. She’d wanted to get him an outfit, but in Sedona’s heat, the only place he’d wear it was inside. Maybe she’d buy him some outfits for the holidays and he could be the store’s mascot?

  She was singing along with the radio when her phone rang. Seeing it was Sam, she picked up using the Bluetooth in her car. “Are you done with your stock?”

  “What? No. I’m still working on the last fifty pieces. Anyway, Holly found out something. Apparently, Mr. O’Reilly works for a real estate company.”

  Rarity waited for the punch line, but when one didn’t come, asked, “So?”

  “He was probably trying to buy Martha and Madame Zelda’s place. Real estate people are always coming into the shop and trying to get me to sell for a lowball offer.”

  “Just because he’s a Realtor doesn’t mean he was trying to buy either woman’s property. Or maybe he did meet them that way, but then he could have fallen in love. Love happens, you know.” Rarity passed a large cactus by the side of the road. No matter how many times she saw the tall cactus, she thought of the old Westerns her mom used to like to watch.

  “Oh, we’re thinking about love, are we?” Sam teased.

  “Shut up. I’m not thinking about love. I’m just saying that maybe Martha and this Kelly guy were in love.” She looked in the rearview mirror and saw she was grinning. Crap, Sam was right. She was thinking about Archer.

  “Anyway, I just wanted to warn you that we’re going to use some of the book club time tomorrow night to set up a murder board for what we know. Shirley’s bringing a whiteboard we can keep in the back and use for our meetings.”

  “You all are nuts.” Rarity turned off the highway and into town. “I’ll see you tomorrow night. I just turned into town. I’m sure Killer’s waiting.”

  “See you then. I need to finish my work so I can come and play tomorrow. This is fun.” Sam disconnected the call.

  Rarity drove by the police station. “I bet Drew would hate to hear you say that.”

  On a whim, she turned the car into a parking lot on the right and shut off the engine. She had her perishable groceries in a cooler, so she had a little time before her grocery run would go to waste. O’Reilly’s Homes was set in a stucco building that looked like it had been in Sedona forever. The clay-tile roof set off the tan color of the building, and someone had decorated the outside with brightly colored weathervanes and wind chimes. She heard the tinkle of the pipes as she walked up to the door. When she turned the knob, it opened. Closing her eyes, she thought of what she was going to say before pushing the door open. Maybe something like, “Hi, did you know Martha Redding? Were the two of you dating? And did you kill her?” Maybe she’d leave off that last question. She could have Drew ask it. Oh heck, she’d just wing it.

  She pushed open the door and stepped into an air-conditioned lobby. A sign at the window announced that no one was on-site, but she was welcome to peruse the listings available from the flyers or online. The lights to the office behind a closed window were off, and there was only one interior door. It was locked. She realized that this was the twenty-four-seven section of their marketing strategy. The front door was always open, but the offices were actually closed for the day. She thought about leaving a note but couldn’t come up with the right wording. Especially since she’d decided not to ask the are you a killer question.

  Just in case they had cameras and checked the feed, she took a couple of flyers, then left and went back to her car. She tucked the flyers into one of the grocery bags and went home to put away the food before she didn’t have any ice cream left.

  * * * *

  Tuesday night, everyone was at the bookstore a full thirty minutes before the meeting and they’d brought something to eat. Shirley had her whiteboard and cupcakes. Holly and Malia had brought a spicy cheese dip with chips. And Sam had made mini sandwiches.

  Only Kim had come empty-handed. She saw the potluck the others had set up and frowned. “I didn’t realize we were bringing food tonight. I would have stopped at the store for something. I was in town for a doctor appointment today.”

  “No worries, Kim. We know you have a lot on your plate. You can bring cookies next week if you’d like or not. You just need to focus on getting well.” Shirley put an arm around the woman and gave her a little squeeze.

  Kim’s eyes narrowed, and for a second, Rarity thought she was going to bark out something about “don’t touch me” or “leave me alone,” but then her face softened. “You all are too good to me.”

  Everyone called out their support for the woman, but Rarity held back. Something was off with Kim. Maybe she was feeling left out of the group because no one had called her to bring something, but like Shirley said, everyone knew what a long, hard road she had ahead of her.

  “Kim, when are they starting your treatments?” Rarity asked.

  Kim turned around to meet her gaze. “What?”

  “You said you were just at the doctor’s. When do your treatments start? I bet we’d all like to support you. Maybe give you rides to chemo or make dinners for you and your husband that week?” Rarity watched as Kim processed the question.

  “Actually, they are still discussing the right path. I’m sure I’ll find out at my next appointment.” Kim hurried over to the treat table. “But for right now, I’m eating one of these cupcakes before they tell me I can’t eat sugar or something stupid.”

  “More likely you won’t like the taste of it,” Malia offered. “When I went through chemo, I couldn’t eat meat at all. I had to take iron pills because I got so anemic.”

  “That’s because you don’t like spinach.” Holly curled her legs up underneath her on the couch. “I added spinach to my smoothies. It hides the flavor.”

  “Anyway, what did everyone think of the book?” Kim returned to the group and sat down, holding her book up to try to change the subject.

  “Hold your horses. Rarity hasn’t joined us yet.” Malia pointed out.

  “I’ll be right there.” Rarity left the counter and went to the front door. For someone who wanted to be part of the survivors’ group, Kim really didn’t like talking about cancer or treatments at all. Or sharing her story, Rarity thought as she set up the sign. She didn’t know why she bothered—she rarely had a customer after five. She might just change her hours except for book club nights. That way she and Killer could get home earlier and maybe she could get in a swim every night. “Sorry about taking so long. So how was everyone’s week?” She held up a hand. “Hold off on answering that. I need to ask you all a question first. Who’s the best cancer doc in town? I need to go for a checkup, and I haven’t even tried to set up an appointment.”

  Shirley pulled out her notebook and ripped off a sheet of paper. “I’ll give you the name and number of my oncologist. He has a few others with him, and they have an office in Flagstaff.”

  “Perfect.” Rarity leaned back. “So how has everyone’s week gone?”

  Kim held up a hand. “I hear Dr. Conrad’s really good.”

  “Add him to the list.” Rarity pointed to Shirley. “I like having options.”

  “Sometimes too many choices gives you conflicting information. You really should try Dr. Conrad.” Kim ignored the sheet of paper Shirley was pushing toward her.

  “Everyone has their own opinion on things. That’s fine. Besides, I’m just looking for someone to check in with once a year. Not someone to walk me through treatment.” Rarity wondered why Kin was pushing so hard. Especially since Doctor Conrad was the man with the fan. She turned toward Malia. “Tell us, what’s been going on with you?”

  Everyone had a bit of info to share about their lives as they went around the room. When it was Kim’s turn, she shook her head. “I’ve already told you all what’s going on. I’m in a holding pattern.”

  “That’s so frustrating,” Holly added. “When you’re first looking for a doctor, it takes forever to get in with them, but now they’re dragging their feet? What are they thinking?”

  “Measure twice, cut once,” Shirley said.

  Everyone turned to look at her.

  “What, haven’t you heard that saying?” Shirley pulled her afghan out of her tote and started crocheting.

  “I’ve heard it, I’m just not sure what it means in this situation.” Malia watched Shirley’s fingers fly as she manipulated the yarn and needle.

  “It means that they’re being cautious with our friend Kim’s treatment, and I, for one, think it’s a fantastic idea. You don’t want to turn your life over to someone who doesn’t think about their actions and reactions.” Shirley smiled in Kim’s direction. “We want to be part of the treatment or the solution, right?”

  “Let’s discuss the book so we can talk about Martha. I want to use that white board and take notes on things we’ve found out about the murder.” Holly held up the book. “I’ll start. I really liked the main character, but her friend, she seemed fake.”

  The “book” part of the book club took less than fifteen minutes, including picking a new book to read. Then the group got down to the real reason they were all there. To talk about murder.

  Chapter 12

  Rarity hadn’t gotten out of the bookstore until after ten. So, when her alarm went off the next morning, she reached over and tapped it with one hand. After snoozing it for several rounds, she finally turned it off and rolled over to see Killer staring at her. “I suppose you need to go outside?”

  He barked and turned three circles on the bed, his way of saying yes.

  “Okay, fine, but you need to do your thing and come right back in. I don’t have time for this.” She peered at the clock. It was almost eight. She climbed out of bed and slipped a light robe over her old T-shirt and panties. Her favorite set of pj’s ever. “I need coffee.”

  She let Killer out, thinking that one of these days she was going to have to install a dog door. Especially since Killer was officially part of the family now. Or he would be when she took him to the vet and had official records saying Killer belonged to her. She felt like she’d won the adoptive dog mom lottery. But as soon as she thought that, she felt bad about Martha. It was a vicious cycle.

  She planned out her next book order as the coffee brewed, writing the plan in her notebook. Her doorbell rang. She walked over to the front door and looked out the side window. Drew Anderson stood there, watching her watch him. She pulled the door open. “What did I do wrong now?”

  He held up a bag and the aroma of fresh donuts filled Rarity’s foyer. “I just wanted to talk. And see Killer. I brought a peace offering.”

  “I appreciate that. Do you want coffee? I can’t chat for long, I’ve got to get the store opened.”

  “I forgot you were opening so soon.” Drew glanced at his watch. “I’m not disturbing you, am I?”

  “No, all I need to do is get dressed and pack up Killer’s go bag. Then I’ll be ready.” She opened the sliding-glass door, and Killer came inside. “The coffee’s not ready yet. Give me five minutes, and I’ll be right back out. I’ll feel more comfortable if I’m dressed when Sedona’s finest is chatting with me over nothing.”

  “I didn’t say it was nothing.” He let his mouth curve into a smile and waved her away. “Go on, get dressed. I’ll get my coffee when it’s done brewing. Are the cups over the coffee pot?”

  “Of course, where else would they be?” She hurried into her room to change. When she came back out, no one was in the kitchen or the living room. She followed sounds out to the deck, where two cups of coffee sat on the table with a plate of donuts between them and a pile of napkins nearby. Drew was playing tug-of-war with Killer. “Looks like he’s winning.”

  Drew let go of the rope, and Killer took his hard-won gains over to his dog bed on the deck, prancing all the way. “I let him win.”

  “I’d stick with that story if I were you.” She sat and sipped her coffee.

  “I hoped black was fine? I didn’t see any sugar out or creamer in the fridge.” Drew leaned back in his chair, picking up his own coffee cup.

  “Oh, you’ve been in my fridge? Did you find anything interesting?”

  He grunted. “You have food in there. I’m surprised. Before my folks moved in, my fridge was pretty empty except for pizza boxes and cans of soda. I’m not much of a cook. It was what I found in your trash can when I threw away the donut bag that I thought was interesting.”

  She tried to remember what could be in her trash but failed. “Okay, it’s too early for my speed round of trivia. What was in my trash?”

  Drew pulled from his shirt pocket one of the flyers for a three-bedroom loft on Main Street. “Are you thinking of selling this place? If you are, I want to know. I’ll have to take on a second job, but if it gets me away from my parents, I’ll do it.”

  “You’d move out of your own house and buy a second place just to avoid telling them they’d overstayed their welcome?” She took one of the donuts. “Someone needs to grow up.”

  “Actually, I’m grown-up. I just don’t like to hurt my parents. And that’s why I’m here. I need you to talk to my dad.” He grabbed a donut and a napkin. “Then filter what he says. Just answer my questions without giving me any more details than what I ask for.”

  “Wait, you want me to talk to your dad? About what?” Rarity tore the donut in half. She ate half and set the second part down. Then she sipped more coffee to cut the sweet flavor in her mouth. She was going to have a sugar headache as soon as she finished the other half of the donut. Of course, she could just not eat the other half, but what was the fun in that? She watched as Drew dropped his gaze, and she saw his cheeks blaze red. Oh yeah, this was priceless.

  “I was going through Martha’s planner, and I saw that Dad’s name and phone number are in it. And they have a star by them.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I can’t just ask him over coffee with my mom sitting right there. What if…he and Martha were…well, were…”

  Rarity watched him struggle with even the idea that his father might have had an affair. “Look, your dad didn’t seem that type to me when I was talking to him on the hike. He looked at your mom like she was the only female on the planet. Maybe he was helping Martha with something? Where would she have met him anyway?”

  “Church. They’re in the same adult Bible study. Mom sleeps in on Sunday mornings and meets him at the eleven o’clock service. So that might explain the name and number in her journal, but geez, what if something more was happening?” He grabbed another donut and tore a bite off it. “If he and Martha were an item, well, I couldn’t look him in the eye ever again. And I’d have to tell my mom, which would kill her. They were high school sweethearts.”

  “So, you want me to find out exactly how your dad knows Martha and whether or not he killed her, but not find out whether they were having an affair.” Rarity tried to summarize what he’d said.

  “Yes. Or at least if you find out, don’t tell me. I know he didn’t kill her, so I’ll need an alibi for a certain time. So, if you could ask him that, too, that would be great.” He gave her a slip of paper that had times written down with a date. “I want to know everything except whether or not his relationship with Martha was more than just friends.”

  “So, why me?” Rarity sipped her coffee and watched for his response.

  He turned back to her and shrugged. “I can’t ask any of the patrol guys to do it. They’d never let me live it down. I’d get teased all the time. Besides, you and I are friends.”

  She considered his words. She felt like they could be friends. And she couldn’t see any trap in the idea. “Okay, but if I need a favor, I expect you to do it without any questions asked.”

  “I’m already going to coffee with your friend. What else do you want of me?” Drew smiled and leaned back in his chair again. Now that he’d brought up the idea of her questioning his father about a possible connection with Martha, he had relaxed again.

  “That’s not a favor for me. That’s for your mom,” Rarity pointed out. “And I don’t know yet. I’ll let you know when I do.”

  He nodded solemnly. “Fair enough. Anyway, why were you at O’Reilly’s Homes yesterday?”