He gave a grudging nod. "An heiress. Thirty-three years ago. Cold case. Ice cold."

"Did you get an ID back on the bones from the FBI lab yet?" I asked.

Werner crossed his arms and shook his head in the negative.

"Tonight Lolique admitted to us that she gave me Isobel's old clothes for my shop. I say Isobel because Gwendolyn didn't like her first name so she used her middle name."

Werner grabbed a notebook. "A hot lead for a cold case."

"See, wasn't this better than locking us up?"

"I'm reserving judgment."

"So the bones might be Isobel's, because they were wrapped in a quilt she'd taken to a fair. Her rings were in the quilt, so maybe she slipped them in a pocket while locked in a trunk, hence the tire tracks. Now, the bones left in my building were clean."

Werner's jaw dropped for half a beat. "How do you know they were clean?"

"Simple deduction, my dear Watson. No body grunge on the quilt."

Werner's head came up before he went back to his notes. "What happened to her between the trunk and the body drawer?" he asked.

"Hey, you have to throw something into the pot," I said as our food arrived.

Before I opened containers, he grabbed a beer and swigged it from the bottle. "Her bones would have been clean if left unburied," he muttered. "It takes maybe three to five years in the open air," Werner said, "for them to get . . . clean."

I was glad he didn't give us details for a visual. I watch Bones. I know the drill. Yuck. "Did anybody ever demand a ransom?" I asked.

"McDowell said no."

I tasted a forkful of enchilada. "Oh, this is o.r.g.a.s.mic."

Werner's elbow slipped off the desk so he ended up juggling his fork like a hot potato while I caught his beer bottle before it tipped.

Eve and I drank our beer the way he did. Good and cold. "So, motive: greed, envy, l.u.s.t? Or Isobel p.i.s.sed someone off, got in their way . . ."

Werner chewed thoughtfully. "Her body was exposed to the elements but out of sight. She could have been left-"

"In the bottom of a well," Eve said, taking the heat away from my vision.

"In a heavily wooded area," Werner added.

I nodded. "In a cave or a quarry?"

"So if it was so well hidden, why move it to Mad's place?" Eve asked.

"Construction?" Werner and I hypothesized in sync.

"Nearly the same reason the bones were moved this second time, because I was moving in."

"I'd like to know," Eve said, "if Suzanne and Tunney are off the hook for Sampson's death."

"Suzanne's done a runner," Werner said, "but we know where she is. They're barely suspects now that I verified Sampson's status. Mad, I owe you an apology for that night."

"Accepted." I waved my bottle his way. "You have a job to do. Just, please, try not to do it at another Cutler family party in future. What about McDowell?"

Eve waved her fork. "Oh, oh. We heard Goodwin say tonight that he thinks McDowell manipulated Isobel's father, also Goodwin's uncle, into leaving McDowell the dealership."

More notes. "I'll look into it."

"And Mad and I think McDowell killed Isobel."

"Guesswork," Werner said.

I tilted my head. "We know McDowell can't be trusted. The question is whether he wanted the dealership enough to kill for it. Isobel would have inherited if she hadn't died. She would have become her husband's boss. Maybe she was planning to divorce him."

For half a beat, we sat back to digest the information and sip our beer.

One six-pack down, one to go, and I was starting to feel it.

"Okay, Detective," I said sitting forward. "Chew on this. Eve and I saw Gary Goodwin and Suzanne Sampson kissing, outside at her place."

"From a boat," Eve said. "No entering involved."

Werner grinned. "Suzanne Sampson divorced both Gary Goodwin and Broderick Sampson. The gossips decided she was Sampson's sister, and Suzanne didn't bother to correct the misconception. She wasn't faithful to either husband and she has the occasional fling with both, not necessarily at the same time. Lolique is Suzanne's daughter by Sampson."

"Ah, so they both started hanging around when they thought Sampson was going to make a fortune. Lolique still thinks her father was rich, by the way." I told Werner what a mean-spirited st.i.tch Lolique was tonight.

"Then the two murders are connected," Eve added.

I inhaled my beer and coughed a minute. "Connected by Vinney!"

"Vincent Carnevale," Werner said. "Another of Goodwin's stepchildren."

"You've been doing your homework," I said.

"I should hope so."

"So Lolique and Vinney are step-siblings?" I moved my jalapenos to the side of my plate.

Werner speared one for himself. "Yup. Same mother, different fathers."

"To me, Vinney had less motive than any of them," Eve said, "Yet I practically saw him steal the bones."

"Mad?" Werner asked, "how did you know how long Isobel had been dead?"

"Easy. I have some of her clothes. She followed fashion trends and liked vintage, but I have nothing newer in style than the mid-eighties."

Eve conveniently dropped a few details of my visions into the pot as speculation, but she also threw in a brilliant question, like could Vinney have been hired? I hadn't thought of that. Werner had.

We were still at it, our minds on overload, when an officer came in. "I found McDowell's alarm company-he's had several plus some outside contractors. His current company said his alarm did not go off last night. And it isn't silent. We couldn't find the alarm at the house because the remote keypad's in a box disguised as artwork in the front hall. The company rep said that was McDowell's idea, like it was stupid."

"All part of the lie to cover his ascot," I said, "in the event neighbors or pa.s.sersby said they didn't hear an alarm. Which they wouldn't have because the door was open, and he didn't take the time to set it before he left. I think McDowell acts first, then he thinks."

"You should know," Eve said.

Werner opened his mouth and closed it again.

But if McDowell acted on impulse, which he had tonight, maybe Isobel's disappearance was too well planned for him to be her killer. But I did not want to give that man an out, even in speculation.

An officer returned Eve's personal possessions, and I used her cell phone to call my father, since my phone had gone the way of my Pucci bag, credit cards, and license.

Aunt Fiona came with Dad, wearing his sour expression.

"We weren't charged," I said, before he could say anything.

"But you spent the night in jail," Fiona said. "Why didn't you call me?"

"Us." My father corrected her. "Why didn't you call us?"

Whoa, scary statement there. Were they an "us"? Dad hadn't tripped over the words at all, which didn't mean he wouldn't tomorrow.

"I didn't call because we only had to stay until our story could be verified."

Eve nodded. "A couple of hours, a few beers, some Mexican food, and good company. The detective didn't pick us up until well after midnight."

"Picked up by the police," my father said.

"I like to live on the edge." I laid my head on his shoulder. "Can we go home now, Daddy? I'm tired."

Aunt Fiona winked at my "Daddy's little girl" ploy.

"Thank you both for an excellent chat," Werner said as we headed for the car, and that was the last I remembered until Aunt Fiona woke me when we got home.

"I'll tell you about it in the morning," I said, going inside. "I mean, when I wake up."

"Which has to be around eleven," she reminded me. "You're giving away scarecrow clothes today."

I whimpered. "I'll set my alarm."

Not nearly enough sleep later, I got to the shop, where people lined up around the building. Parked cars slowed traffic. Potential contest entrants and a few unknowns, who, I think, needed free clothes, swarmed the tables.

That's when I heard the news from Eve. Her car had been found beside the river with a hole in the convertible top. A hole the size of a spiked heel.

Later, Werner told me that my Pucci bag was neither inside nor out of the car, and I hoped it hadn't ended up in the river. Baste it, I hoped I didn't end up in the river.

Vinney's, I mean the councilman's sweater had gone missing, as well.

I couldn't drive my car until I got a new license. A few days ago, I thought that once I had my car and my stock had been moved in, I'd be home free. So not.

I watched my back that day, but uniformed officers came for scarecrow clothes, so Werner watched it, too.

McDowell wasn't the first enemy I'd ever made. He wouldn't be the last.

But he might be the deadliest.

Thirty-six.

Choose your corner, pick away at it carefully, intensely and to the best of your ability and that way you might change the world.

-CHARLES EAMES I had plenty of reason to fear McDowell, I thought as I closed up shop, my father waiting in the parking lot, but what about the self-effacing man who wanted a dealership so badly he went there every day, hoping a portrait might fall?

I knew anyone who got in Lolique's greedy, spiteful way should fear her. She'd implicate her husband to get her hands on his money.

Vinney I had reason to fear, his eyes so filled with bloodl.u.s.t when he tried to choke me they haunted me.

The following morning, Eve called as I got ready for Halloween Ball fittings. "I got the news from Tunney-he who knows everything," she said. "Vinney skipped town."

I grabbed my throat. "Must have happened during the night, but skipped or not, I don't like Vinney on the loose now that he tried to kill me."

"I don't like it now that I tried to kill him."

"We'll both take care. Eve, can you surf the net and find out what Zachary Goodwin, Isobel's father, died of?"

"I'll try," she said before she hung up.

I was so jumpy after Eve's call I decided that the best way to watch my back was to keep my enemies close, the ones I could find. I called Natalie at the car dealership, ostensibly to thank her for saving my life the other day, but I knew she kept McDowell's schedule. A bit of chitchat netted me the time and location of his lunch date with his wife. Natalie admitted, however, that McDowell liked to have his schedule leaked for publicity purposes. Big surprise.

That noon, at a local restaurant, I pretended to run into Lolique and the councilman, where I asked them to judge the scarecrow compet.i.tion.

The councilman seemed delighted by the prospect, and I knew he'd bring television coverage, because he never left home without it.

Lolique's reaction to my invitation was tepid, at best, until I mentioned giving her an exclusive on the Vintage Magic article. Not that she'd really wanted to write that story. She'd just wanted to dupe us dopes, which was beside the point.

"You know, Lolique, I lost the Pucci bag I carried when we had drinks the other night. I wondered if I'd dropped it in your front hall when we went in with you." When you were hammered, I wanted to say but didn't. Yes, I was giving her an opportunity to return my bag with dignity.

She raised her chin. "I'll ask Maid if she found an old handbag."

"I'd appreciate it. Have you seen Vinney lately?"

McDowell stiffened. "I don't care if he is half related to her, if he comes near either of us, again, I'll have him arrested for trespa.s.sing."

Was the old goat clueless or what? Vinney was a burglar suspected of arson and murder. He wouldn't stop at trespa.s.sing.