"Ha! You're blowing smoke, trying to tick me off. That way I'll tell you whatever it is you think I know. Are you that desperate for leads?"

Comacho stood. "You don't know what leads I have."

"You don't have anything," I said, my voice rising.

"Or you wouldn't be here bugging me. You said you don't even have an I.D. on the victim. You don't have motive and opportunity either. Necessary items before you can make accusations."

"Information you no doubt learned from watching Cops Cops? Look, why don't you cut the c.r.a.p, Jensen? And tell me what you're hiding."

"I'm not hiding anything."

"Okay. Maybe your grandmother can help me out."

My hands clenched tightly and I glared at Comacho. "I told you to leave Abby alone."

"You don't want people you care about questioned, do you, Jensen?"

"d.a.m.n straight I don't. Want to snoop around in my life, go right ahead. But stay away from Darci and my grandmother."

"Are you afraid of what they might tell me?"

"I'm not afraid because there's nothing to tell." I took a step forward. "Leave them out of this or..."

Comacho didn't budge an inch. "Or what? I've already told you it's against the law to threaten an officer."

I scrunched my eyes shut and took a deep breath, trying to calm down. Opening my eyes, I looked at Comacho, forcing my gaze not to waver.

"I'm not threatening you, but how do you feel about hara.s.sment charges?" I said, stepping back and leaning up against the corner of my desk.

"Not good. Guess I'll have to make sure I don't hara.s.s you, won't I?"

"Any more questions?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest.

He gave another tiny shrug as he walked toward the door. "No, not right now. But I might later."

"Fine, but if you do, call and I'll come to Bill's office. You can ask your questions there."

"I'd prefer to keep it on a more informal level."

"Well, I wouldn't," I said, straightening and moving to behind my desk.

Turning, he said, "I'll look forward to talking to you again." With a slight nod, he left.

My knees gave out when he shut the door to my office and I sat on my chair with a thump thump. My right eyelid gave a nervous twitch and I pressed my finger against it. Dang! How was I going to get out of this one?

Chapter Fifteen.

"Excuse me, Ophelia."

I looked up from the computer screen to see Claire standing in the doorway to my office. She had her gla.s.ses halfway down her nose and was peering at me over the top of them.

Oh no, I'm getting the look. the look. Must be trouble Must be trouble.

"Hi, Claire." I smiled and waved her toward a chair. "What can I do for you?"

"Do you have a minute? I need to talk to you," she said, taking a step inside and shutting the door.

"Is this about finding the body? Look, I'm sorry. I know people in town are curious and it brings the wrong kind of attention to the library, but I can't change that. I-"

"No, what you found yesterday isn't the reason I need to talk to you," Claire said, holding up a hand, palm out, to stop me. She sat in the chair next to my desk and gave me a worried stare. "This is more serious than curious patrons hanging around bothering you."

"What?"

"You know I have nothing but the utmost respect for you, don't you?" Claire asked as she picked a piece of lint off her lap.

"Of course. We've worked well together over the past four years."

"Well, I don't know how to broach this subject," she said, her eyes refusing to meet mine.

While I watched Claire continue to pluck imaginary lint off her lap, my mind scrambled, looking for a reason to explain her obvious distress. Was it the latest selection of books I'd bought? Had Mr. Carroll complained again? I did a mental inventory of everyone I might've ticked off in the last week and came up blank.

I reached over and lightly touched her hand. "Claire, tell me what's bothering you."

She stopped her plucking and looked at me. "Olive Martin is making allegations that you've mishandled library funds."

"What!" My jaw dropped.

Claire sighed and shook her head. "Yes. She's called several of the board members and wants a full audit of how you used the money left to the library by the Thompson estate."

"But you know how I spent the money." My fingers tensed around the arms of my chair. "It was used to repair the roof."

"I know, but the bill presented to the board was higher than estimated."

"And she thinks I'm skimming the money?" I asked, gripping the chair tighter. I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

"Yes."

I shoved myself out of my chair and began pacing the narrow s.p.a.ce of my office. "Claire, you know that's not true. The bill was higher because the roof was in worse shape than we had originally thought."

Claire sighed again. "I know. And the rest of the board members know too. Olive is trying to cause you problems. That's all."

I stopped pacing and rolled my eyes to the ceiling. Peachy, like I don't have enough trouble? Now I would have to go before the board and explain the expenses to the roof. And drag all my records and receipts with me.

Glancing over at Claire, I said, "Why? Why would Olive want to cause me problems? I've never had any conflict with her. I barely know her."

"It's politics."

"Huh?"

"Think about it. Her husband is one of the biggest grain producers in the county and he strongly supports PP International's building project. PP International's hogs are a good market for his grain, but your grandmother wants to stop PP International. Olive is trying to get back at Abby through you."

I felt like jumping up and down and screaming, but I kept my tone even. "That's not fair. And it's petty."

Claire lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "I know, but that's the way a small town can be sometimes. Some people carry grudges and will do anything to get even. Olive thinks she'll hurt Abby by hurting you."

"She won't. I have all the receipts and can explain how the money was disbursed."

"I know, but I thought I'd better warn you about Olive." Claire stood and walked to the door. With her hand still on the doork.n.o.b, she turned and said, "You know it might be best if you keep a low profile for a while. At least, until this thing with PP International blows over."

My concentration was blown for the rest of the day. I tried, really tried to stay focused, but my mind kept bouncing, from the murder investigation to Olive Martin's accusations to the possibility of Comacho questioning Abby. At last the clock said 5 P.M. and I grabbed my backpack and left the library.

Charles Thornton waited for me at the bottom of the steps.

"Charles, I'm surprised to see you."

Charles crossed the distance separating us and handed me a small clear plastic container.

"I heard about what happened to you yesterday and I stopped by the florist and picked these up for you. I hope you enjoy them."

In the container, nestled in sparkling confetti, were two white orchids. Their petals were pale and fragile; I could see their delicate veining. The centers were a bright yellow that stood out in sharp contrast to the pristine petals.

"Oh, Charles, they're beautiful. It's sweet of you to give me flowers. Thank you," I said and gave him a big smile.

"You're welcome. My mama always said there's nothing like flowers to brighten a woman's day. I hope these brighten yours."

"They do, they do. The past twenty-four hours have been rotten. The flowers are the nicest thing that's happened to me."

My words pleased him. He rocked back and forth on his heels, grinning.

"After the demonstration, I didn't want to call and bother you."

"Were you there?" I asked.

"Yes, but I was late. I got there right after the medical examiner. Finding that body must've been terrible for you."

"Yes, it was. But it's under investigation now and hopefully the authorities will find the killer."

"But to think a killer's on the loose, here in Summerset. I'm sure people in the community are upset."

I nodded my head. "Yeah, it's like a wolf has been set among the sheep. I'm sure a lot of doors will be locked until the matter is settled."

"Well, I hope you're locking yours."

"Always."

"Hi, Ophelia," said a voice from behind me.

I whirled around to find myself staring into Fletcher Beasley's beady little eyes.

"Beasley." My nose wrinkled in disgust. "What are you doing in Summerset?"

"This little town's got a big story cooking." He took a long swig from the coffee cup he held in his hand. "Might be the work of our boy. You know, the one who killed your friend, Brian Mitch.e.l.l?"

"I don't know anything. I'm not a part of the investigation," I replied coldly.

"Maybe you should be. From what I've been hearing today, you should be an expert on murder. It's what? The third one you've been involved with-Iowa City, last fall, and now this one," he said, sneering. "Make a good story, don't you think?"

I took one step toward him and shoved my finger at his chest. "Get out of Summerset and leave me alone."

"Hey, it's a free country. I can go anywhere I want."

"Oh yeah? Well-"

Charles took my arm, pulling me gently away from Beasley, and stepped between us. "I think the lady's made it clear you're bothering her. I suggest you go."

"Who the h.e.l.l are you?" Beasley asked.

"A friend and we have a dinner engagement."

With that Charles linked my arm through his and walked me to my car. Opening the door, he handed me inside. "Where do you want to go? I'll follow you."

"Umm-Joe's, I guess," I said, stunned at the way he had taken charge of the situation with Beasley.

"I'll meet you there." He shut my door and walked across the street to a car parked opposite mine.

When I pulled away from the curb, my eyes went to my rearview mirror, and I saw Beasley standing in the same spot. He held a notebook in one hand and with the other was scribbling in the notebook. His coffee cup sat on the ground at his feet.

I couldn't wait to see tomorrow's headlines.

Chapter Sixteen.

I was still trying to get my bearings from my encounter with Beasley when I walked in the door at Joe's Cafe Pausing to let my eyes adjust to the change in lighting, I noticed a sudden shift in the noise level inside the restaurant. It had become quiet. And as I gazed around the room, no one would meet my eye.