"That's good enough for me."

At six on the nose, Lee couldn't get out of the hardware store fast enough.

I turned to Rob as he was balancing out his cash register. "That wasn't very nice of me, was it?"

"Lee's a little too young and a little too earnest to get the full range of your humor, Savannah. He's a good kid, don't get me wrong, but he's got some seasoning to do first."

I smiled at him. "I'm not sure if you're complimenting me, or if that's meant to be an insult."

"I suppose some things in this life must remain a mystery to us all," he said with a slight smile.

A minute after I finished sweeping the floor, Rob looked up from the stack of cash on the counter and the register tape. "Good, it balances out on the first try. Lee is coming along nicely."

"Do you have big plans for him?"

"Are you kidding? Someday I'm hoping he'll take over so I can spend my days fishing."

I thought about saying something, and then decided to hold my tongue. After all, it wasn't any of my business.

Rob caught my hesitation, though. In some ways, he was just as sharp as my husband was. "What were you going to say, Savannah?"

"It might not hurt to tell him your plans, if you're serious about it. He seems a little jumpy about his job, if you ask me."

"I appreciate your advice, and I'll give it every consideration it deserves," he said with a smile.

I matched his smile as I said, "In other words, b.u.t.t out of something that's none of my business."

"Your way is more succinct than mine, but not nearly as elegant. Now, if we're done with our bantering, let's go do a little digging in Parson's Valley and see what we can uncover."

Chapter 6.

"DO YOU HAVE A SECOND?" ROB ASKED GREG LINCOLN AS we walked into his barbershop. There wasn't a soul in any of the waiting seats, or the two barber chairs near the long mirror in front. The floor was clean swept, an ap.r.o.n was draped on one side of one chair, and the other cutting area was completely vacant. Though the shop had, at one time, housed two men, Greg was now literally the only barber in town, and I was sure he grew tired of folks asking him who cut his hair, or if he managed it himself in the mirror.

"Sorry, my appointment book is all full at the moment," he said with a smile as he leaned against the wall. Greg was in his early forties, and I'd heard Zach say that he'd bought the place from his dad when he retired, at a steep interest rate. If Greg minded, he didn't seem to show it. He looked as at home there as if he'd had a pipe, a robe, and slippers.

"Try to fit me in anyway," Rob said, matching the light mood of the moment. He turned to me and said, "You know Savannah Stone, don't you?"

He nodded in my direction. "I've seen you around town. You're married to Zach, aren't you?"

"Guilty as charged," I said with a little of the humor my husband liked, though I realized as soon as I said it that it might not be appropriate at that exact moment. I wondered how long this playful bantering was going to last, and Rob's next question took care of that nicely. "What were you and Joanne Clayton arguing about the other night out on the street?"

Greg looked guarded, but not surprised, as he answered, "What are you talking about? I didn't have an argument with her."

"Save it, buddy. I saw it myself," Rob said. From the abrupt tone he was now using, it was clear there was no doubt in his mind about what he'd seen.

After a moment of thought, Greg finally gave in. "We never argued. Joanne might have raised her voice a time or two when we discussed things, but it was all innocent enough. Why does it concern you, anyway?" He looked a little more intently at Rob. "When did you start spying on me?"

Rob shook his head. "I wasn't spying. I was out walking around town and I saw you two together. I heard you threaten her, Greg."

The barber looked uncomfortable now. "I didn't mean it, and she knew it. You know how Joanne can be. You've known her longer than I have. Sometimes she says things just to get a reaction from folks." Greg sat up straight and asked, "Has she been spreading rumors about me in town, Rob? Let's get her over here right now. I'm certain she'll tell you I didn't mean anything by it. We're on good terms, generally. We just had an off night, that's all."

"Are you trying to say that you two were in love, Greg?"

"I'm not saying anything of the sort." He looked a little dumbfounded by the question, as if he were searching for the underlying joke attached to it. When he saw Rob was serious, he asked, "What's gotten into you? I have no idea what you're talking about."

"You hid it well, but you weren't able to fool everyone in town," Rob said. For the moment, they were both ignoring me, which was fine with me. I could get a lot more out of their conversation if I wasn't actually a part of it.

"I don't know where this is coming from," Greg said, still holding on to his denial. "I suppose I like her well enough, but love might be a little strong to describe how I feel about her." He narrowed his eyes as he asked, "Why, did she say that I loved her?"

This had gone on long enough. The pathetic look in his eyes when he asked the last question was too much to take.

I was about to tell him the truth when Rob said bluntly, "I'm sorry to be the one to tell you this, but she's dead, Greg." I studied the barber closely as he reacted to the news.

"That's not funny, Rob," he said, clearly choosing to discount the news. "If you think you're being amusing, you're really not, and I'd appreciate it if you'd just drop it."

"Ask her. She was there when it happened," he said as he pointed to me.

That wasn't exactly true, but it was close enough. "I'm terribly sorry," I answered. "She died today in Asheville."

It was horrifying to see the transition in his face. The whisper of a smile had been replaced suddenly with open shock.

"You should sit down," I said.

"Maybe you're right." Instead of taking one of the waiting seats, he slumped into his own barber chair. "It's really true? When did it happen?"

"This afternoon," I said. "Have you been cutting hair all day?"

It was almost as if he hadn't heard me. "I just can't believe it. Not Joanne. It's not real."

"She asked you a question, Greg." Rob had an edge of steel in his voice now; there was no disguising it. "Have you been here all day?"

"Of course I have."

"Are you trying to tell me that you didn't even take a lunch break?" Rob asked him.

"Come on, Rob, you've sat in my chair long enough to know that I've shut down from eleven until noon every day the shop has been open since my dad started running the place."

I figured that would give him a decent alibi, if it were true. I'd once made it to Asheville from Parson's Valley in twenty-eight minutes by hitting every green light between and pushing it a little too fast on the interstate, but it was certainly nothing that could be counted on. When the parking situation in Asheville was figured into the equation, even with a nearby open garage to tuck a car in, I didn't see how he could have killed Joanne in the allotted time unless he'd been very, very lucky.

"That's good to know," Rob said, his voice easing up a little.

It was time for me to get involved in the conversation. "Greg, do you know of anyone in town who might have had a grudge against Joanne?"

He looked down at his hands, and then asked me softly, "Do you mean besides you?"

"Pardon me?"

He looked at me critically as he said, "She showed me her puzzle, Savannah. Joanne told me that she was going to take every newspaper you were syndicated to away from you. We both know that she was doing her very best to ruin you, and Joanne just about always got what she set her mind to."

"She had one paper that doesn't even count," I said loudly. "It was no motive for murder."

Rob b.u.t.ted in and asked, "You've said your piece about Savannah. What we want to know is, was there anyone else?"

Greg frowned for a few seconds, and then said, "I know she could be abrasive at times. Most people around Parson's Valley didn't see the softer side she had. Joanne had her share of enemies."

"Is there anybody in particular you might be thinking of?" I asked.

He nodded. "Everyone knows about her public spats with Laura Moon and Sandra Oliver. Then there's the fact that she had a fight going with Harry Pike a few days ago, and she wasn't all that fond of Hannah Reed, either. I don't know. I can't think about it right now. It all makes me too sad."

"I'm so sorry about Joanne, for your sake," I said. "I had no idea about the two of you."

He nodded sadly. "She didn't want anyone around here to know about us. Joanne was afraid of the gossip mill in town, so we had to keep it quiet. There was something there, though, you know? I don't know if it was really love, but it might have developed into it, if we'd just had enough time."

I didn't know how to begin to answer that. "You have my deepest sympathies."

"If you don't mind, I need some time to be alone." He got up and walked us out of the barbershop. As we left, I watched him through the gla.s.s door as he snapped the locks shut and flipped the "open" sign to "closed." An instant later, the red-and-white-striped electric barber pole went dark, and the sign stopped turning. It was clear that Greg was done, at least for the moment.

"At least we cleared one thing up," Rob said. "Greg didn't know about what happened to Joanne."

"It appears that way," I answered.

He looked at me with surprise. "Do you honestly think that he was acting just now?"

I thought about it, and wasn't sure how to answer truthfully. "I don't know. There was something about that entire conversation that seemed, well, rehea.r.s.ed is the best word I can come up with."

Rob clearly didn't buy it for a second. "Don't forget, the travel time between here and Asheville alone would be enough to clear him."

I shrugged. "I considered that, but it's all predicated on him leaving exactly at eleven, and getting back here at noon on the dot. If he left ten minutes early and got back ten minutes late, he could have poisoned her and no one would know he'd ever left town."

"So he stays on our list until we can prove otherwise," Rob said.

"I think so. At least for now." Another name had popped up that intrigued me. "Can we tackle Hannah Reed now?"

"I guess so," he said a little reluctantly. "Are you sure there isn't someplace else you need to be?"

"Zach's probably still in Asheville," I said. "And even if he's back in town, he's not going to want me tagging along as he helps interview suspects."

Rob grinned. "Then it's a good thing he doesn't know about Hannah yet, isn't it?"

"That's another reason we should speak with her now. If we interview her before Zach hears her name in connection with the case, he can't complain about me interfering." As I said it, I knew how ridiculous that statement was on the face of it. Even though Zach and I were on the same side, it didn't mean we always saw eye to eye on the right way to investigate a crime. He liked the slow and methodical approach, weighing and a.n.a.lyzing clues, and moving toward an inescapable conclusion. I, on the other hand, loved stirring the pot every chance I got to see who boiled over first. It was a little more dangerous than my husband's approach, especially when I wasn't armed with much more than the pepper spray in my purse, but it was tough to argue with the results when I made things happen.

WE GOT TO HANNAH REED'S CRAFT CORNER JUST AS she was closing the register in her shop for the night. Hannah ran a small business that specialized in all kinds of crafting supplies. Between the yarn, colored thread, candle molds, cardmaking supplies, and soapmaking kits, she had something for just about anyone who wanted to work with their hands. I loved to give homemade soap to some of my friends at Christmas, and Hannah's shop was the only place I trusted to buy my supplies. The woman was amazing, mastering every craft her store represented, until she could do just about anything there was to do in the crafting world. I couldn't imagine under any circ.u.mstances that she could be a murderer, but if living with Zach all these years had taught me anything, it was that you can't tell a killer by looking at them.

"It's not Christmas, Savannah," she said as Rob and I walked in. "Have you finally decided to branch out into candles?"

"Not yet," I said, "but soon."

She nodded, and then turned to Rob. "Robert, I don't believe that you've set foot in this store since I opened it. I have a feeling you two aren't here for supplies or tips, are you?"

"Hannah, I was wondering if we could have a word with you," Rob said. As long as I'd lived in Parson's Valley, I'd never heard Rob called "Robert" by anyone, and I wondered what their connection was, and how far back it went.

"I thought that was what we were doing." She frowned at her register tape. "I may be a fine craftswoman, but I am a dreadful accountant. One day I'm seven dollars short, and the next I'm ten over. I have no idea what happens, but things seem to get away from me over the course of the day."

After hearing that particular confession, I promised myself that I'd pay closer attention to my change the next time I came into her shop. "Have you heard the news about Joanne Clayton?"

"Yes, sadly, I have. How dreadful."

"Did you happen to hear it from the police?" Rob asked her. "Or did someone else tell you?"

She looked surprised by the question. "Why on earth would the police have any reason to share that information with me? Sandra Oliver was here picking up a book she had me order for her, and she told me then."

"Mind if I ask what the t.i.tle was?" I asked gently.

She looked at me for a moment before she answered. "Actually, I do. I like to offer my clients some sense of privacy when they deal with me. I may not be protected by the Const.i.tution, or maybe I am, but either way, it's something the people who shop here expect from me, and I don't aim to disappoint them if I can help it."

"That doesn't matter," Rob said. "I have to ask you something about Joanne. It's about what happened between the two of you last month."

Hannah's face whitened. "I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about, Robert."

"I think you do," he said.

She decided to shift the focus from herself onto me. "Savannah, have you seen the new book on soapmaking with all-natural ingredients that I just got in? It's got lots of plants native to our area that you can use in your concoctions. You should go look at it."

It was clear that I was being treated like a small child by being sent to the other side of the store, but there wasn't a great deal I could do about it. If I fought them on it, I was certain neither one of them would say anything incriminating in front of me. On the other hand, there was the question of whether or not I was going to allow myself to be dismissed so easily.

I decided for the moment to stay right where I was. "Thanks. It sounds tempting, and maybe I'll look at it later, but right now, I'd love to hear exactly what Rob was talking about."

She looked at Rob, who frowned at me. "Savannah, this is private. Do you mind giving us a minute?"

"I do," I said.

The three of us stood there for what felt like an hour, but I was certain it was only a few seconds. I saw something ease in Hannah's face, a tension that was there before that suddenly vanished. "She's a member of our community, Robert; I can't see keeping it from her. But if you don't mind, I'll tell her myself."

"Go ahead," he said. "After all, it's your story."

Hannah looked at me, took a deep breath, and then said, "Savannah, not many folks outside of Parson's Valley know this, but I had a reason to despise Joanne Clayton with all my might, though I can a.s.sure you that I wasn't the one who killed her."

"Why did you hate her?" I couldn't believe how calm Hannah was being as she talked. A thousand possible reasons danced through my mind, but I wasn't expecting the one she finally gave me.

"She was the reason my son left Parson's Valley ten years ago, and because of her, he'll never come back. I've lost him just as surely as if she'd plunged a knife into his chest and stopped his heart."