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He reached forward, clicked off the recorder, picked it up, stood, and left the room without any further comment.

“Thank you,” I said to Dan. I wasn't sure what else to say. It occurred to me that he might want to know without a doubt that I was innocent and I was pretty sure that Chester was too, but strangely it didn't seem like the right time or place to make such a declaration.

“You're welcome. Sorry my dad couldn't be here. He's somewhere where there's no cell phone coverage.”

“You did great. I'm glad you were available.”

“Well, I really did go to law school and I really did pass the bar, but only recently.”

“At least you passed,” I said.

I kind of expected him to say “barely,” but he didn't. He just smiled.

“If they had any evidence, they'd keep you or arrest you. They clearly have nothing and are just looking for something, anything. The pictures of you at your home are probably the big reason they're looking for a connection.”

“Those pictures bother me.”

“I can understand that, but though I think you should be careful, it appears the man who took the pictures is gone, and perhaps he was only taking them because of your connection to typewriters, the one he came in for specifically. Again, always be careful, but they probably aren't any cause for alarm.”

“Okay,” I said, but uncertainty filled my voice.

“Can't blame the police, really. They are trying to solve a murder; they gotta start somewhere. I'm here to make sure they don't get out of hand. Here's my card with my cell and my office numbers. Call me if they want to talk to you again, or to your grandfather.”

Dan stood, so I did too as I took the card. He shoved his skinny briefcase back under his arm and opened the door for me.

He followed me out into the big room, now populated with six officers attempting to look like they were doing something policelike. But I knew they were all watching me expectantly, wondering what this turn of events might do to my friendship and ex-relationship with two of their fellow officers. And I was sure they were also watching Jodie and Creighton with critical eyes. Would they do their jobs or would they cave because of our histories together?

I didn't much care what the other officers, including Creighton, thought or did. I was only interested in letting Jodie know that I felt hurt and betrayed. I thought she should suffer at least a little.

When I stopped at her desk and she looked up at me with as even a glance as I'd held for Officer Streed, Dan stopped next to me. He looked at me with raised eyebrows.

“Oh, Jodie's a friend. I'm not going to answer any of her questions either.” I sent her a much harder and more impatient look. She withered slightly, which wasn't her style.

“Very good. Call me,” Dan said before he turned and left, nodding confidently at a couple of the other officers
and seeming not to care that they didn't return his friendly greetings.

“I will.” I turned toward Jodie when he was gone. “That was awful.”

“Coffee?” Jodie said as she stood. “Next door?”

She led the way out of the station. I followed behind, but not obediently. I tried to act as if she just happened to be going the same direction I was going. I glared at Creighton. He ignored me. I glared at Omar and Kelly. They didn't ignore me, but they didn't smile either. I glared at the two officers I didn't know; they just blinked at me.

In only a few moments, we were next door to the police station, in a small coffee shop that was built more for drive-thru or walk-up business than for inside customers. But there were two small tables available for those who wanted to come in and sit.

Jodie ordered our coffees as I took a seat at one of the tables. Shortly, she brought over two very large cups and set one in front of me. Before she sat, she placed an envelope on the table next to her coffee.

“I had no choice, Clare. You had to be officially questioned,” she said as she scooted in her chair.

“No, I didn't, apparently. I wasn't under arrest. You couldn't have forced me. I could have said no. I feel tricked.”

“Fair enough, but you have to understand it was a necessary move
on our parts
, and if you'd said no, you would have looked guilty in the eyes of our chief. There are procedures we are required to follow, and we are searching for a killer. Omar, Creighton, Kelly, and I discussed the best way to handle it. It had to be done.”

“Why didn't you or one of them question me?”

“Come on, you're smarter than that. Think about it a second.” She took a careful sip from her cup.

I took a sip too. The coffee helped.

“All right,” I said a few moments later. “Conflict of interest.”

“Right. There was no way I or Creighton or anyone else you know for that matter could have talked to you. We all love you. There's no way we'd be objective. We had to get someone to come up from Salt Lake City, and we asked specifically for someone who wasn't a hard-ass to do the job. You weren't even in there very long.”

The resentment that had balled in my gut was loosening a little, but that might have only been the coffee.

“Here, I've got something for you.” Jodie slid the envelope toward me.

“What is it?” I asked before touching it.

“Just open it.”

I lifted the flap and pulled out the few pieces of paper that had been folded inside the envelope. At first glance the papers looked official, but I didn't zone in on any of the specific words.

“It's a background check on your new boyfriend,” Jodie said.

My mouth fell open and I refolded the papers. “You're kidding, right?”

“No, not at all. While I was at it, I did one on that Mutt character too. He did ask me out.”

I couldn't help myself. “And?”

“I'll only tell you if you look at what I found on Seth James Cassidy.”

“It's just awful that you did this,” I said. “Where's the mystery? Where's getting to know each other?”

“It's still there. These reports don't talk about all the
legal
bad habits people have, just the illegal ones. I'm sure learning about how they pick their noses or chew with their mouths open will still be delightful discoveries. All the report will tell you is if he's ever been married, where he's lived, and if he's ever been arrested for anything.” Jodie sounded like both a police officer and someone who'd gone through a bitter divorce, so bitter that I wasn't allowed to say (or even think, she'd said) her ex-husband's name. I bit back the name now along with the desire to call her a cynic. If that's what she was, she had good reason to be. Old what's-his-name was a jerk to the highest degree.

“It seems like such an invasion of privacy,” I said.

“It is, but a worthwhile one.”

I looked at the envelope. “I don't want to look at it.”

“Fine, but keep it. You might want to at some point. You can thank me now though. For the report, for the coffee, and for finding a police officer who would question you gently.”

“I'd like to be mad a little longer.”

“Sure, but when can I expect you to get over it?”

I sighed. “Maybe by tonight.”

“That'll work. I'm going out with a man named Mutt tonight. There are just some things you can't even imagine happening, let alone predict. So I'll be okay with you
being mad a tiny bit longer. Are you going out with your new boyfriend?”

“I might be going out with Seth, but I'm not sure. I think we should stick with
potential
new boyfriend.”

“It's about time you get back out in the world.”

“You say that like it's something I've been able to control. I haven't been asked out all that much since . . . since your brother.” I was surprised by the lack of venom in the word “brother.”

Jodie laughed. “That's because the vibes you put out are that you don't want men looking at you or calling you or texting you, and you definitely don't want them asking you out.”

“I do not.”

“Come on, Clare. You're gorgeous and for the most part smart.” She smirked at my rolling eyes. “There's not a single man who's met you or seen you across a crowded room that didn't want to ask you out.”

“That is so not true.”

“Okay, whatever you say, but nevertheless, Seth is cute. If only it weren't for . . .” She bit her bottom lip and eyed the envelope.

“I'm not taking that bait. I'll ask him about his criminal record.”

“You should.”

The radio on Jodie's belt beeped and a voice said. “Jodie, you there?”

“I'm here,” she said as she pushed its side button.

“We've got a problem. We need you and Omar at a scene right away.”

“Gotta go. Can you get back to The Rescued Word on your own?” Jodie said as she stood and sped out the door without waiting for my answer. I watched her hurry away and tried to still be mad at her, but mostly I admired her dedication to her job.

I sighed as I thought about the trek up the hill, but I didn't mind getting back to work on my own. Police stuff was more important than my stuff anyway.

I
threw Jodie's partially drunk coffee away but took mine and the envelope with me as I left the coffee shop. I thought about throwing the envelope away, but I didn't want whatever was inside it to be floating around out in the world for anyone to read. I debated shredding it when I got back to the store, but I wasn't exactly sure what I'd do. For now I folded it into threes and put it in my pocket. I didn't want to think about it or the pictures or if the answers I'd given to the police were acceptable.

It was a perfect sunny day with a clear blue sky. Because of the high elevation, Star City never got too hot in the summer and humidity was close to non-existent, so it wasn't unusual to enjoy three straight months of weather perfection; more, of course, if you also enjoyed the snow. There were many Star City residents who thought the pleasant
summers were a pretty big inconvenience when it came to their worship of the white stuff.

As I set out up the hill, I noticed that there was a tantalizing smell coming from somewhere not far away. I let my nose lead me about halfway up the block and down a small side street similar to Bygone Alley, but not as charming. A roasted-almond cart had been set up. The owners were testing their product, considering whether they would open for the winter season. I was happy to be a taste-tester and gave the cart cook a thumbs-up regarding the almonds. I told him that the winter months would be an even better time to sell the warm snack.

I should have been in more of a hurry to get back to work, but I meandered out to Main Street, glanced in a couple of store windows, and found some bright orange cowboy boots that Jodie would love and some earrings Marion might get for her next birthday.

I wasted just the right amount of time apparently so that when I started up the hill again, I happened to see someone who seemed familiar standing at the opening of the walkway behind Bygone. The opening was mostly hidden by overgrown vines from bordering buildings and a bus stop sign that, though small, somehow drew eyes to it instead of the entrance. Some instinct buzzed in me and I stopped walking and watched him. He looked so familiar. How did I know him?

He glanced around furtively. If he'd really been looking closely, he would have noticed me standing partway down the hill, watching him as I pulled another almond out of the paper cone and put it in my mouth.

But he didn't see me. He didn't think anyone was watching him. Suddenly, he darted into the walkway.

“Wait, was that an O'Malley?” I said aloud to myself. “Brian, I think.”

He was too far away for me to be sure, but there was something about his dark hair and ruddy complexion and the untrusting slant of his eyes. I hadn't seen him for some time, but I thought I'd just watched Brian O'Malley disappear into the walkway. Where a man had recently been killed.

I rolled the top of the cone down, clutched it in my fist, and took off in an awkward uphill run.

I was used to the elevation, and though I'm not in bad shape, I'm in better shape in the winter. By the time I made it to the walkway, I was pulling in noisy, deep breaths.

I pushed away the vines and peered in. The view from this direction was much different than the view from outside the back door of The Rescued Word. From here, it wasn't really a walkway as much as an unpleasant space wherein one might choose to walk if they had absolutely no other path to take.

I didn't see Brian O'Malley. I didn't see anyone.

Why would he have gone in there? Where did he go? Why did I care? I didn't have answers to any of the questions, except that I knew I did care, or was, at least, very curious.

I looked around, much as alleged-Brian just had, but I didn't see anyone paying me any attention. Star City had its fair share of summer tourists, but the streets weren't busy at the moment. The few people who were here were
more interested in looking into store windows or pushing themselves to make it up the hill than in what I was up to.

As I stepped into the walkway, I knew two things for certain. One, the back door to The Rescued Word was locked tight—or at least I hoped so. I'd checked it recently enough. And two, there was no exit on the other side. One way, the same way, in and out.

I decided I wouldn't venture far.

The path curved a little to the right about five feet in, and once around the curve, I could see the entire length of the space, the buildings' backsides, the uneven path, and the thin rectangle of blue sky above. The broken window that had been leaning against the wall was no longer there, nor were the pieces of broken glass that had been on the ground around it.

There were no people. The walkway ended with a brick wall that was the entire height of the buildings. It wasn't as foreboding as I thought it would be. The light from above helped give the area a warm glow, and there were no bad smells. Given a little TLC, I thought it could be cleaned up enough to be cozy.

I wasn't going any farther though. I'd seen someone who looked like Brian O'Malley enter. Where had he gone? As I took a step to turn around, a back door not far from The Rescued Word's back door bounced open with a sharp noise. I saw it as it propelled out and then shut again.

Had Brian gone in through that door?

I hurried out of the walkway and ran around the corner to Bygone, continuing to move quickly as I looked in
windows. I saw familiar store owners and employees—some of them waved—but I didn't see Brian.

I stopped in front of the empty store and put my face to the window to better inspect the inside of the shadowed space. I didn't see anyone, but I saw evidence that someone had been there, or some
thing
. Among construction equipment, a white bucket on its side rolled slowly toward a wall. Either someone had just knocked it over or the building had become home to critters or ghosts.

In a flash, I saw the light change toward the back of the space. There was a counter with a saw on it blocking the back door, but the light flickered just like it would if the back door had opened and then closed.

I took off in a sprint to get back around the corner, but I wasn't quick enough. As I came out to Main Street, I saw a figure I thought was the person in the alley running down the hill, darting around a now slightly larger group of tourists and light poles. If he was running, he must have known someone was watching him, or trying to watch him.

I debated following him down the hill, but I didn't have it in me. I probably couldn't catch up to him, and he'd already been enough of a disturbance. I'd tell Jodie about him though, right away if possible.

It was as I stood there, telling myself it was okay to give up the chase, that something else occurred to me, something completely unrelated to the man running down the hill. That thing that had been trying to rise from my subconscious when I'd watched Mirabelle sip her coffee suddenly became crystal clear. It was as if the adrenaline shooting through my system knocked stuff back into place,
stuff that my time in the police station had temporarily scared away.

Mirabelle had told me that she'd gotten the typewriter from the old newspaper editor, Homer Mayfair.

Mayfair. When Jodie and I had visited the bikers and the goats, I'd seen the name “Mayfair” on the back of a jacket—denim or leather, I was pretty sure. I thought I'd written the name on one of the cards I'd taken. Where had I put those cards? Hopefully I'd find them somewhere in Little Blue.

Oh, I had lots to tell Jodie.

I hurried back to The Rescued Word, glancing inside the future chocolate shop on the way but seeing nothing new. I was going to call Jodie from the privacy of my office. Even though I knew she was currently busy, I'd leave a message for her to call me as soon as possible.

However, I was diverted again, but this time it was a good diversion.