"It's not scientific, and it definitely wouldn't hold up in court."

"Don't matter. She's innocent and that's that."

Stella, meanwhile, was still incredulous. "So, let me get this straight: you've been sneaking around trying to protect Alma because you thought she shot Weston. Meanwhile, Alma ..." her voice trailed off.

"What?" Mills pressed. "What about Alma?"

"I can't. I promised I wouldn't tell anyone."

"If you don't tell me, I'll bring you in for questioning."

"You! After all you told me ...? You wouldn't dare!"

"Try me," Mills threatened.

Stella gave in. "Okay. Alma came over to the camp tonight to tell us she suspected you but didn't want to rat you out to your colleagues."

"Alma thought I was the murderer? Hmph ... imagine that. And she wanted to protect me?"

"She sure did. The last thing out of her mouth before you showed up was that she didn't want you to find out she suspected you. She was afraid you'd be hurt by it."

Mills's blue eyes sparkled. "She was concerned about hurting me?"

"Jeezus, it's like a twisted O. Henry story," Nick complained. "Next thing you know, you'll be buying each other combs and pocket watches. Although technically you're both still on the suspect list and none of this nonsense has provided either of you with an alibi, I, for one, think you're both too corny to have shot Weston. Which feels good, because I'm getting kinda attached to you crazy, lovesick kids."

"Thanks, Nick. Thing that doesn't make me feel good right now is taking Alice Broadman into custody. Woman has a husband and two young children."

"Do you have enough to arrest her?"

"Not for murder, but she did confess to mortgage fraud, and that's plenty serious these days. Could be in jail for ten years."

"Those poor people. It's not going to be a very happy weekend in the Broadman household," Stella sadly remarked.

"Nope. Say, why don't you folks head home? I'll be by in the morning with coffee, and maybe we can talk more about the case, if that's all right," Mills requested. "I'd like your input on some things."

"Sure," Nick acquiesced. "What do you think, honey?"

"Sounds good to me."

Mills nodded in agreement and headed back to the crime scene but not before pausing to shout back to Stella and Nick, "And hey, thanks. For everything."

CHAPTER.

16.

AFTER A GOOD night's sleep on the new air mattress, Nick and Stella sat on the front porch of the hunting camp awaiting the arrival of Sheriff Mills and, of equal importance, their morning coffee.

The sun had risen upon another unseasonably warm day, but whereas the previous day had been dry and clear, today's heat was already accompanied by an uncomfortably high level of humidity.

While Nick yawned, stretched, and surveyed the landscape, Stella, seated in one of the Adirondack chairs, continued her st.i.tchery.

"I saw you get up and work on that last night," he commented.

"Yeah, I couldn't sleep. I was still wound up about Bunny's death and Alice's arrest."

"Me too, but when I finally crashed, I was out cold."

"Same here. The st.i.tching helped."

"What are you making?"

"Oh, just a token for Raymond and Alma for letting us stay at the camp. I figured they could hang it on the wall here once we've gone."

"That would explain why you've included the word 'beer.'"

She smiled. "I'll do something a bit girlier for Alma. Then I'll frame them both, wrap them both up, and give them to her with a card."

"Yeah, a nice Hallmark that reads, 'Thanks for the free food and use of your shower. We're sorry your boyfriend was a jerk, that your neighbor was killed, and that we suspected you of being a homicidal maniac. PS: If you see a flashlight in your latrine, don't ask.'"

"Would I find that in with the sympathy cards or the thank you's?"

"Pretty sure it would be in the 'thinking of you' section. Might find it in with the cute kitten cards too, but I don't know-think a kitten might be over the top?"

"Maybe a little."

The sound of crunching gravel once again heralded the approach of Sheriff Mills, but unlike the previous evening, this morning found him behind the wheel of a blue Chevy pickup. He brought the truck to a halt beside the Smart car and stepped out of the cab.

"Wow," Nick remarked. "Look who's out of uniform. I almost didn't recognize you."

Mills, clad in faded jeans, sungla.s.ses, a light green b.u.t.ton-down short-sleeve shirt, and a pair of lace-up moccasins, grinned and lifted a tray of coffee from a diner in the next town from the seat beside him. "My civilian wear," he announced as he sat down on the porch.

"How'd it go with Alice?" Stella asked.

"Miserable. Tried to keep it low key, no cuffs and no sirens. But the kids woke up 'cause of her crying, and the neighbors saw me take her out. Feds are coming by tomorrow to take over the mortgage fraud charges."

Nick, dressed in a New York Knicks T-shirt and pair of cargo shorts, sat between the sheriff and Stella. "What about the murder case?"

"Alice and her husband took the kids to a corn maze and then supper at the bar and grill."

"So she has an alibi for Bunny's murder."

"Yup. She's the only one, though. Josh Middleton is still under house arrest for the truck incident, so he was at home watching a Netflix movie-alone-while his mother was at work. Maggie Lawson was out doing who knows what. Jake Brunelle was alone working in his shop. And Betsy Brunelle says she was in Rutland shopping."

"And we're back at square one," Stella noted as she put down her st.i.tching and distributed the coffee cups.

"Yup, but it seems you've made some progress in your own investigation."

"I don't know about that. We may have unearthed some new things, but I still have more questions than answers."

"Well, throw them out there. Let's see what we can come up with."

"Okay." Stella took a sip of coffee and gathered her thoughts. "First off, why was Weston at our house? And don't say to work on our well, because we all know Weston never did the work himself."

"The only thing I can come up with," Nick offered, "is that he wanted to handle it himself in order to make a good impression."

"We spoke to Hank Reid, honey. Does it sound like Weston was the type to go out of the way for a customer?"

"No, it doesn't."

"So what other explanation could there be?"

"Might have been meeting someone there," Mills suggested with a shrug.

"That was my thought too. And a meeting would explain the last-minute change in schedule. However, why our house? We've seen his house, and it's-" Stella caught herself, but it was too late. Mills stopped drinking his coffee in mid-sip.

"When did you see Weston's house?"

"Um, we drove past just to check it out. You know, get a lay of the land," Nick explained.

Mills gave a doubtful frown.

"Anyway," Stella continued, "Weston lived on the top of a hill at the end of a long, private road. Alma met him there several times and no one ever saw them. If Weston needed privacy, he could have arranged a meeting at his place."

"Maybe Weston was at your house to meet with Maggie. She lives nearby."

"There are a few flaws with that theory. First, why not just meet Maggie at her house? She's told anyone who'll listen about the painting. If anyone saw Weston's truck in her driveway, they'd a.s.sume he was smoothing things over or asking her to leave him alone. Second, why did he need to meet with her at all? According to Maggie, she ran into Weston at the well office and the septic service shop last week. And by your account, Sheriff, she was at his house as recently as the day before his death. If there was something he needed to discuss with her, he could have done it then."

"But instead he called the police."

"Which raises another interesting question. Why did Weston suddenly feel the need to call the police? Maggie had been stalking him at work for weeks and he hadn't contacted the authorities."

"There's a big difference between stalking someone at their place of work and stalking them where they live," Nick said.

"Call me old fashioned, but stalking is creepy no matter where you do it. If the source of Weston's fear was Maggie herself, he would have gotten a restraining order weeks ago, but he didn't. Sooo ..."

Nick and Mills leaned forward in antic.i.p.ation.

"... what if what actually frightened Weston was that Maggie got too close to the painting or to something else he was trying to hide?"

"Great, now you're quoting Senora Psycho herself."

"Because, as crazy as the rest of her story might sound, that part makes sense. Why else would he have such a sudden change of heart?"

"Guess it might be worth looking into."

"Of course it is! Sheriff, do you think we could head over to Weston's house once we finish? I'd like to give it another look."

"Another look? I knew it! I knew you two broke in there."

"No, Stella broke in. I walked in the front door."

"You broke in?" The sheriff was incredulous. "What did you say you did in New York again?"

"I didn't say."

"It's cla.s.sified," Nick replied. "Even I'm not allowed to know."

Stella rolled her eyes. "What does it matter if I broke in? I didn't take anything out. What does matter is that when I was there, I took a look at Weston's closet. It was filled with fancy suits and designer labels."

"So?" Mills challenged.

"So, what was Weston doing in a no-name flannel shirt and bargain-bas.e.m.e.nt jeans?"

"Flannel shirt was brand new. I can only a.s.sume he bought it to work on your well."

"Not a man like Weston. Not a man who put creases in his khakis. If Weston needed work clothes, he would have bought them from Orvis or L. L. Bean or, if he were slumming it, from Woolrich. Instead, what he was wearing was strictly Walmart. It makes as much sense as him moving his truck into the woods."

"Maybe he was hiding?" Nick offered. "The next closest house belongs to Crazy Maggie. I wouldn't want that all up in my grill."

"Make up your minds! One minute you guys have Weston meeting Maggie; the next, he's hiding from her. If Weston wanted to hide from Maggie, he would sent one of his guys to our place to do the job. And he definitely wouldn't have driven past her place in a bright yellow truck with his name on it."

"Well, I'm stumped."

"Me too," Mills echoed. "Every time I think I have one question answered, another question pops up that my answer doesn't fit."

"I know," Stella agreed. "And we haven't even gotten to Bunny's death yet."

"What's so confusing about that? She was killed because she knew something about the murderer. Could be anyone, except for Alice. Oh, and Hank Reid."

"I noticed you didn't mention Reid earlier. Did he have an alibi?"

"Yep. Bunny's voice mail and Hank's phone records support his story."

"He lives just five minutes away from Bunny. Those phone calls mean nothing. He could have snuck over there between leaving messages."

"Yeah, but he and Bunny were ..."

"Sleeping together?" Nick finished Mills's thought. "In my opinion, that makes him an even stronger suspect. Not only did the intimate nature of their relationship give Bunny access to Reid's house and personal belongings-which, for all we know, could have included some d.a.m.ning evidence-but Reid might have made an offhand comment or let something slip during ... um ... the heat of the moment."

"Eww," Stella said in disgust.