"Oh, go on with you," Emma said.

After Mor was gone, Emma said, "Where's Elise? I want to show her my new sweater."

"She's somewhere inside," Alex said.

Emma patted his shoulder. "I'm so sorry about the murder. It's not your fault, Alex. You know that, don't you?"

Alex smiled sadly. "In my heart I know you're right. I'm sorry he's dead, but I realize this kind of thing happens all the time. I just wish it hadn't happened here."

As he watched more people stream into the fair, Alex saw Sandra's BMW cut through the crowd and make its way to the front steps of the inn.

She got out of the car, showing a flash of her long legs as she did. Sandra always wore the shortest skirts she could get away with in court. There was no doubt she got the male jurors' attention that way, but she held it with her persuasive arguments. When the two of them had been dating, Alex had sat in on one of her closing statements just to see her in action, and he'd been overwhelmed by her presence in court. Sandra was remarkably good at what she did, and Alex began to realize that she had won most of their arguments for a reason. That had been one of their problems. Sandra could convince him of just about anything when they were together. Only afterward did he realize that he'd been played expertly to come to the conclusions she'd wanted him to reach.

"Alex, it's good to be back at Hatteras West. I've missed this place."

Alex said, "I'm afraid you're too late, Sandra. The sheriff's already taken Bill into town."

"He hasn't arrested him, has he?"

Alex said, "No, but he said to tell you that he was taking Bill to jail so he could interrogate him without being interrupted."

"We'll just see about that," Sandra said.

Alex added, "Sandra, I'm not sure how he's set financially. I probably shouldn't have brought you in on this, but I didn't know who else to call."

She touched his arm lightly. "Don't worry about it, Alex. You did the right thing. I can always write it off as my contribution to the arts."

"One thing, Sandra. Bill Yadkin's got a real temper. It's not going to be easy representing him."

Sandra offered a smile. "Well, you know me, Alex. I always did like a challenge."

As she drove away, Alex wondered if he'd sent her on an impossible mission.

He had to admit that there was a very real chance Bill Yadkin had done exactly what it appeared, that the young blacksmith had killed off his main compet.i.tion.

Chapter 5.

Alex knew it was pointless wading through the bills he'd thrown in his desk drawer. Just the thought of reorganizing them again was enough to kill the desire to work. His mind was on other things.

Murder had come back to The Hatteras West Inn, and it was a most unwelcome guest.

Alex decided that more than anything else, he needed some time on Bear Rocks. Slipping away to the top of the lighthouse gave him perspective on his problems when he needed a place to think, but touching the sun-warmed boulders always offered an overwhelming comfort he couldn't explain. The formation of weathered boulders, eroded into pa.s.sageways, slides and bridges, had always had a calming influence on him. As a boy, Alex had memorized every twist and turn to the paths, and he prided himself on the fact that he knew the rocks better than anyone alive.

Cutting through the crowds at the fair, Alex ducked into the trees and soon found himself mostly away from the noise of their presence. He curled up into a cradle of warm stone and stared up at the sky. He hadn't been there long before a voice called out to him.

"I thought I saw you slipping away through the trees," Alex heard.

He looked up to find Shantara Robinson standing at the base of his rock.

Alex said, "To tell you the truth, I needed to get away from the world for a few minutes."

"I can relate to that," she said as she deftly climbed up beside him.

"Shouldn't you be at the fair?"

She shook her head. "I had to catch my breath, too. We've got a huge crowd, that's for sure. Only I don't think they came to see the artisans at work; they're more interested in seeing the crime scene. People can be such ghouls."

"So why are you up here hiding from the world?" She paused a second, then added, "As if I have to even ask. Alex, I'm so sorry I brought all this onto you and your place."

"Listen to me, Shantara, it's not your fault any more than it is mine. I just hate that it had to happen at all."

"Me, too, Alex." There were a few moments of shared silence, then Shantara stood up and brushed her slacks off. "Why don't we head back to the fair? People are probably wondering where we slipped off to."

Alex joined her as she deftly jumped off the rocks. He said, "Let them wonder. It will give them something to talk about besides the murder."

As they walked through the trees on the path that led back to the inn, Shantara asked soberly, "Alex, do you think Bill actually killed Jefferson Lee?"

"Well, he had motive enough. I've heard Jefferson was trying to drive him out of business by stealing all of his customers. I don't have to tell you about Yadkin's temper, either."

"So you think he did it?" Shantara asked.

Alex took a few steps, then stopped as he said, "No, I don't think he killed the man, but I could be wrong. I couldn't tell you why, it's just something in my gut."

Shantara said, "So, if Bill Yadkin didn't kill him, who did?"

"I wish I knew," Alex admitted. "Give Armstrong a chance, Shantara. He'll uncover the truth."

"Not without you helping him, Alex. Everybody in town knows how much he leans on you."

Alex held up his hands. "Shantara, I'm staying out of this. I'm just an innkeeper, remember?"

"You're a lot more than that," Shantara said as she stepped closer. "Alex, you can't just let this drop." There was a catch in her voice as she added, "Don't you understand? This is all my fault."

"You're not responsible for Jefferson Lee's murder, Shantara."

"I just wish that were true," Shantara said, tears creeping from her velvety brown eyes.

"Let it go, Shantara."

She shook her head. "I wish I could." Shantara took a deep breath, then let it out slowly before she added, "Alex, how long have we been friends?"

Alex said softly, "Since kindergarten. You used to steal my sleep mat during naptime."

"That was the only way I could get your attention. Alex, in all the years we've known each other, how many times have I asked you for a favor?"

He started to answer when Shantara continued, "I mean besides having the fair here at Hatteras West."

"Never," Alex admitted.

Shantara looked gravely into his eyes, then said, "Well, they're coming in a flood, because this is going to be the second thing I've ever asked you to do for me. Alex, you've got to find out who really killed Jefferson Lee. The only thing is, you can't ask why it's so important to me. Just believe me when I tell you it is, more than you'll ever know."

Alex protested, "I'm not a cop, Shantara, I'm not even some fancy private detective. What makes you think I can find out who killed Jefferson Lee?"

"You were always good with puzzles, Alex, and you've got a way of making people talk to you. You really listen! Do you know how rare that is in this world? Will you do this, Alex? For me?"

"I don't know what I can do," Alex said, then added quickly, "but I'll try my best. For you."

Shantara gave Alex one of her rare hugs, then released him just as quickly as she'd embraced him.

Despite his best intentions to stay out of the murder investigation, Alex suddenly found himself right back in the middle of things.

And he still didn't have a clue why Shantara was convinced that Jefferson Lee's murder had anything to do with her.

Shantara had persuaded Alex to let her exhibitors stay at the inn during the two days of the fair at a greatly reduced rate long before the festivities had moved to Hatteras West's grounds. Elise hadn't even been able to disagree, since it was an extremely slow time for them anyway, and it did manage to fill up the rooms. The only room they had reserved for the weekend was #7, where Evans Graile was staying while his house was being renovated. Evans was an agreeable old man with a sharp eye and a soft voice; he never missed a thing and wasn't reticent at all about sharing his newfound information. Most days, he watched the outside world in one of the lobby's comfortable chairs from early morning till late into the night, and honestly, Alex had grown accustomed to his presence, but he'd been noticeably absent over the past few hours. Alex wondered where in the world the man could be.

Jefferson Lee had demanded the inn's nicest suite for himself, but Alex had refused to move Evans from his room. Jefferson had insisted that he was the fair s biggest draw, and Alex realized ironically that he'd turned out to be just that.

A thought suddenly occurred to him. Maybe there was something in Jefferson's room that would give Alex a handle on who had killed him. It was time to honor his word to Shantara and see if he could uncover who had murdered Jefferson Lee.

Alex felt like a ghoul and a burglar creeping into the room of the dead man. He knew the sheriff wouldn't approve of his snooping, even though Alex could probably justify his presence in some capacity as the innkeeper.

Jefferson Lee was as neat in private as the image he showed the world. His clothes were carefully folded in the Shaker-style dresser Alex's grandfather had built, and his toilet articles in the bathroom were arranged in an orderly fashion on the countertop. It was almost as if Jefferson had known he was going to die and hadn't wanted anyone to judge him by the condition of his room. Alex had once had an aunt who always cleaned her house meticulously before going on vacation, just in case something happened to her while she was traveling. The irony was that she'd died when she slipped in the tub while cleaning it just before going on safari.

Alex was just about to open the writing desk drawer when the door behind him flew open. He felt his heart hammer in his chest until he saw Elise standing in the doorway.

"I thought I'd find you here."

"Come in and shut the door," Alex whispered fiercely. "I don't want anybody to know I'm in here."

Elise stepped inside and closed the door behind her. In a gentle voice, she said, "I thought you were staying out of this."

"I promised Shantara I'd dig around a little," Alex explained.

"Why is she so concerned about Jefferson Lee's murder?"

"She feels responsible," Alex said as he opened the drawer.

There were a few of the standard room postcards with The Hatteras West Inn on them, the beacon shining out into the Foothills night. Alex was about to shut the drawer when he noticed that one of the postcards had writing on it.

He carefully pulled the card out of the drawer by its edges and read the note printed in block letters nearly pressed through the paper: "MEET ME AT NEW BUILDING SITE TONIGHT. URGENT."

With a sudden sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, Alex realized that he was probably holding the lure that had been used to lead Jefferson Lee to his death.

"Alex, you shouldn't have touched that; it's evidence," Elise said.

"I was careful, I picked it up by its edges. Elise, you always put fresh postcards in the rooms, don't you?"

"Every day, without fail. That card was meant for Jefferson Lee. Alex, you know you can't keep it. It's evidence."

Alex started to slip it back into the drawer, then decided to leave it out in the open, just to be certain Armstrong would see it. "I'm not about to take it. I'm not sure it will do anybody any good; block lettering is almost impossible to trace. Anybody could have gotten the postcard; the inn's full of them. I've even got a ton of them in the lobby and in town for people to take."

"At least we know the murder was premeditated," Elise said softly.

Alex answered, "I'm not sure Armstrong's going to see it that way. To him, this could mean anything. It could have been about a lover's rendezvous or even an appointment for a business meeting."

Elise shook her head. "I don't think so, and you don't, either. Why would somebody print in block letters if their intent was innocent?"

"Hey, I agree with you. I think the killer wrote it, too." He studied the card another moment, then said, "You know, I'd really like a copy of this. Do you think I'd be risking too much taking it downstairs and making a photocopy?"

"Alex, I wouldn't try it," Elise said gravely.

"It might come in handy," he said stubbornly, pulling out his handkerchief and picking the card up carefully by the edges. "I'll have it back here before anyone knows it was ever gone."

Elise looked doubtful, but Alex was determined not to let the clue, or at least a copy of it, get away from him.

As they hurried down the stairs to the office, Craig Monroe, one of the potters, met them halfway up.

Monroe said, "We need some old towels if you've got them. Somebody's walked off with some of ours, if you can believe it."

Alex hid the postcard behind his back as Elise said, "Why don't you come with me to the storage closet, and I'll see what we've got."

As Elise slipped past Alex, their eyes met for an instant. The warning in her glance was clear.

Alex carefully closed the door to his office and made three copies of the note, blowing one up to twice its normal size, just in case there was something he'd missed. The first copy he made was skewed, with part of the "URGENT" cut off, and Alex chucked it into the trash can after adjusting the card properly on the copier gla.s.s.

He had a horrible time finally getting the card off the gla.s.s of the copier without smudging any fingerprints that might be there, but it finally lifted off.

Alex's foot was on the top stair when he noticed that the door to Jefferson Lee's room was standing ajar. He knew he'd locked it carefully behind him a few minutes before.

It looked like Alex wasn't the only one conducting an investigation.

Chapter 6.

Alex nearly dropped the postcard when he saw Sheriff Armstrong standing at Jefferson Lee's writing desk, Elise a step behind him.

He tried to slip the card back onto the dresser when Armstrong swung around.