"Wow," Sean said.

Megan ducked her head. "Sorry," she said. "I tend to get carried away."

As Sean watched, Samantha went over to one of the shelves and picked out a box of dog biscuits. "Here," she said, bringing it over to the counter.

Sean took a look. The box had a picture of a dog and a rabbit on it. The type read: Rabbit stew in a biscuit form. Hand cooked and hand rolled. Everything from our farm to your table with love. Human grade. No pesticides or antibiotics. If you want to indulge with your pet go ahead. The price on the box read twenty-five dollars.

"Twenty-five dollars!" Sean yelped. "Don't you think that's a bit steep?"

"Don't worry," Megan said. "I'll give it to you for cost. That'll be ten." She looked at the clock on the wall. "If you hurry you can get to the florist before he closes."

"And why would I want to do that?" Sean asked.

"Duh," Megan said. "So you can get something for In-" And she clapped her hand over her mouth.

"Megan!" Samantha shrieked. "You promised."

"Well, I'm sorry," Megan said.

"Who else did you tell about Trudy?" Sean asked.

"No one." Samantha raised her hand. "I swear."

Sean sighed. This is what he got for getting involved with this kind of stuff.

"And I won't either," Megan told him. "They can pull my fingernails out and I wouldn't tell."

Sean thought an hour in the Longely jail would be enough.

"I just want you to know that I really admire what you're doing," Megan said. "I think it's a really good thing. If more people followed their hearts, the world would be a better place." And she came around the counter and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

"I know," Samantha said once they were back in her vehicle. "And I'm sorry. It's just that she's my best friend."

"When you keep a secret, you don't tell it to anyone. That is the definition of a secret."

Samantha hung her head. "I had to have someone to talk to."

Sean rubbed his forehead. He could feel a headache developing. What had he expected given the fact that he was dealing with a teenage girl? "Well, I hope your friend can keep her mouth shut," Sean said as they took off. "That's all I can say."

"She will," Samantha a.s.sured him. "I can guarantee it."

Sean didn't reply. There was nothing he could say that would be productive.

Chapter 26.

Samantha pulled into the driveway of Ines's house and killed the engine. Sean had been here several years ago when the place had belonged to Mary Dottard, to tell her that her husband had been hit by a drunk bicyclist and was in the hospital with a fractured hip. Fortunately, Mary's husband had been all right. Sean had liked the looks of the place then and he liked it now.

The house was a small, neat, wood and quarried-rock bungalow set back off the street. It had diamond-paned windows and a large, welcoming front porch, a throwback to the days when people had time to visit. A couple of face cords of split firewood were neatly stacked along the porch's far wall.

Ropes of small white lights snaked around the two large stone pillars flanking the stairs. A trellis supported a clematis vine that Sean knew bloomed in the summer and early fall. The sounds of television floated out of the house. Sean smelled wood smoke, which made him think that Ines had a fire going inside. He heard Trudy barking as he rang the bell to the house. It made a nice jingly sound.

"What a pleasant surprise," Ines said when she opened the door a moment later. She nodded toward the presents he was holding. "If you were a Greek, I'd say something along the lines of...and bearing gifts no less...but since you're not Greek, you're Irish, I can't."

"Is this a bad time?" Sean asked. For some reason or another, he had a sneaking suspicion that he was not in Ines's good graces. Maybe it was the look on her face, which was not exactly welcoming. Or maybe it was the whole Greeks-bearing-gifts thing. If he remembered right, the saying Ines was alluding to was, "Beware of Greeks bearing gifts." "Would you like us to leave?" he offered.

"Don't be silly. Come on in." Then Ines turned to the little black pug that was standing beside her barking up a storm and wagging its tail so hard its little hindquarters were shaking. "Edna, stop that," she ordered. The pug barked louder. Ines threw up her hands. "What can you do?" she said to Sean and Samantha with a smile on her face as she beckoned them in. "She doesn't listen to me any better than my children did."

Sean stared at the pug. He was now thoroughly confused. "That's..."

"Edna," Ines said firmly. "We don't even use the 'T' word. At all. It's amazing how fast she got used to her new name."

"But she's black," Sean said.

"I know," Ines said. "I can see that."

"But how?"

Ines and Samantha looked at each other and laughed.

"Welcome to the world of hair dyes, Sean," Ines said as she took the dog biscuits and the flowers that he was holding. "And thank you for the presents. That was very sweet of you. And very wise."

Sean was about to ask Ines why she had said 'wise,' but Samantha spoke first.

"It was my idea," she said proudly. "I don't mean the presents," she said quickly.

"I know, dear," Ines replied. "You meant the hair dye, and I must say it was an excellent thought."

"But isn't that bad for...for...Edna?" Sean asked.

"Nope," Ines said. "I checked. The dye we're using on her is one hundred percent organic, one hundred percent nontoxic. You could use it on an infant if you wanted to-although I can't see why anyone would do something like that."

"Are you sure?" Sean persisted.

"Of course I'm sure," Ines said indignantly. She put Sean's presents on the hall table, then hung up his and Samantha's coats. Then, with Trudy hot on her heels, she picked up the presents and headed into the kitchen for a vase for the flowers. "Give me credit for some brains."

"But was it necessary?" Sean asked.

"Necessary?" Ines whirled and faced him. "Necessary?"

Sean took an involuntary step back and held up his hands against the onslaught of unleashed emotion. Obviously, he should have stayed off this topic.

"I was just asking," he said plaintively.

"Maybe it's necessary because I am harboring a kidnap victim in my house. You have made me into a felon."

"Well, I'd hardly go that far," Sean said.

"Well, I would," Ines retorted.

"Kidnapping implies a ransom," Sean said. "Unlawful possession is a more accurate designation for what we have here, and that's a misdemeanor."

"Wonderful. Now I can relax. Just think, I was worried when I saw that sign in the pet shop," Ines said. "Silly me."

"Oh, that thing..." Sean stammered.

"Yes, Sean. That thing. I walked into the shop and nearly had a heart attack. Thank G.o.d Edna wasn't with me."

He recognized the signs now. He had an angry, indignant female on his hands.

"I think you may be overreacting a tad," Sean observed gingerly.

"I don't," Ines snapped. She pulled the collar of her turtleneck sweater up. "Weren't you supposed to call and explain things to me? Tell me what was going on?"

"Yes, but..."

"Yes, but nothing. You didn't call. You didn't explain."

"You could have called me," Sean pointed out.

"I was afraid to. Fortunately, Samantha did call me."

Samantha smiled. Sean glared at her.

"I just wanted to make sure everyone was all right," Samantha said. "After all, I am kinda responsible for the situation."

"Kinda?" Sean repeated. "Kinda responsible?" He could hear his voice rising.

"All right," Samantha said. "I'm totally responsible for the situation. Does that make you happier?"

"Thank you," Sean said. "Yes, it does. Marginally."

"After all, I couldn't take the little darling out looking the way she did," Ines went on. "Someone might have spotted her."

"I think that may be overstating the case...." Sean said. But before he could finish his sentence, Ines rode right over him.

"And I couldn't keep her in. She has to go for her walks. I was in a terrible quandary about what to do, which was when Samantha called. I asked her for suggestions and she asked Megan, who actually knows about dogs, and we came up with this." She pointed to Trudy/Edna, who was presently sitting on Ines's feet. "There are black pugs, you know."

"No, I didn't," Sean murmured. In truth, he knew not very much about dogs. They'd always been there when he was growing up, but he'd never interacted with them. He'd just given them an absentminded pat on their heads as he'd gone by.

"The whole hair dye thing has worked out really great," Ines continued enthusiastically. "I haven't worried since I did it. I even walked Edna past the police station yesterday. No one glanced at her twice. No thanks to you."

"You want us to go?" Sean asked.

Ines laughed. "Not at all. Now that I've had my little tantrum I'm fine. But you should have told me."

"I just..."

"I know. You just didn't want to put me at risk. I appreciate the sentiment, but you have to tell me what's going on and allow me to make my own decisions."

Sean nodded. That seemed like a fair request. He didn't know if it would work-his habits were longstanding-but he was willing to try.

Ines inspected his face. Sean decided she must have liked what she saw, because the next thing she said was, "Hot cider, tea, or coffee?"

Sean and Samantha both chose coffee. Ten minutes later, the four of them were seated around the coffee table in front of the fire. Sean, Ines, and Trudy/Edna were on the sofa, while Samantha was sitting cross-legged on the floor. The three humans were sipping coffee and everyone was eating pieces of cinnamon toast.

"Do you have the Longely High School yearbooks or the local community college ones at the Historical Society by any chance?" Sean asked.

Ines took a sip of coffee before answering. "I believe we do," she said as she put her cup down. "Is there a reason you're asking?"

Sean shrugged. "Samantha's friend Megan just told us that Richard and Annabel went to high school and college together. I was just curious to see what they looked like. No big deal."

"When we're done with our coffee we can go and look if you want to."

"Now?" Sean asked.

Ines laughed. "Why not?"

"But aren't you closed?"

"We are indeed. But since I have the key that shouldn't be a problem. After all, I am the person running the place."

Half an hour later, Ines, Samantha, Sean, and Edna were at the Historical Society. Ines's keys jingled as she opened the door. She flipped on the lights and the room sprang into view. It looked oddly forlorn, with its empty tables and chairs, and its neatly stacked reading materials. Sean had the feeling that the building was glad for the company. He shook his head to get those thoughts out of his mind. He had been hanging out with Samantha and Megan too long, he decided as he followed Ines, Edna, and Samantha into the back room. Weirdness was contagious. He'd always suspected as much and now he had proof positive.

"Here we are," Ines said as she turned on the lights.

As she did, it occurred to Sean that Ines hadn't turned off the burglar alarm. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment as he pictured patrol cars squealing to a stop in front of the Historical Society and officers emerging with their guns drawn. And finding them. Not a good picture.

"Isn't the place alarmed?" Sean asked.

Ines grinned. "Nope. There's nothing here anyone would want to steal. No one comes here during the day. I can't imagine why they'd want to go to the trouble of breaking in here."

"But what about fire? Are you hooked up to the fire station?"

"We're not hooked up to anyone," Ines replied as she kept an eye on Edna, who was sniffing the table legs.

Sean gestured around the room. "But isn't that kind of risky with all this paper?" he asked.

"Obviously," Ines said as she went over to the shelves on the near right and began running her finger over the spines of the books stored there, "you have never dealt with my board of directors. They are a very tightfisted bunch. Ah. Here we go. The Longely Lantern." She stopped to do the math for a moment, then pulled out a volume, brought it over to the long table, and set it down. "This should be it," she said to Sean.

He sat down in front of it and began to flip through the pages. He pa.s.sed the pictures of the hockey club, the football team, the school newspaper, the French club, and the notes from the Spanish club's trip to Barcelona. About halfway through he came to what he wanted-the cla.s.s picture. He stared at it for a moment. Then he read the names underneath the picture. He reread them. And everything came together for him. He closed the book and pushed it away with the tips of his fingers.