"You're kidding."

"No. They were never stolen."

"But Wilbur thought they were?"

"No, he knew they weren't."

"But he reported them stolen."

"Yeah. He's guilty of filing a false report. If I were a cop, I'd have to arrest him."

"I don't understand."

"Join the club. So, here's what I wanna do. I want to trace the stolen chairs."

"But you know where they are."

"Right. But I wanna pretend I don't, start over, and see where they are."

"And your search will lead you to Wilbur's barn?"

"I'm hoping it won't."

"I can see why Google won't help you."

"Yeah. So what will?"

"A therapist, an exorcist, and a psychic." Sherry yawned, stretched. "I'd better make coffee. You're making less sense than usual."

"I'm not quite awake."

Sherry went into the kitchen, measured coffee into the automatic drip machine.

Cora followed her, sat down, lit a cigarette.

"Are you going to smoke in the kitchen?"

"I figured you were too tired to argue."

Sherry put milk and sugar on the table, sat opposite Cora. "Okay, coffee's brewing. Fill me in on your Internet search."

"I broke into Wilbur's barn last night."

"That's how you know about the chairs?"

"No, that's how I got arrested and shot at."

"What!?"

"Or vice versa. I actually got shot at and arrested. The other way makes no sense."

"Nothing you're saying makes any sense. What the hell are you talking about?"

"It didn't make the late news? I'm crushed."

Cora gave Sherry a rundown of her escapade in Wilbur's barn.

"You broke into his barn twice?"

"Yeah, but it doesn't matter."

"What?"

"Well, the first time he's not pressing charges, and the second time he doesn't know."

"But the cops have your gun and think you shot yourself?"

"They think I fired a bullet into the wall and pretended someone shot at me."

"So you went back into the barn to look for the other bullet, but you quit when you found the chairs?"

"Are you kidding me? I went over those walls with a fine-tooth comb. If there's a bullet in the barn, I can't find it."

"Is there a place a bullet might have been dug out of?"

"Just mine."

"So where is it?"

"Maybe it went out the window. Maybe there were two guys, and one of them's wearing it. There's lots of possibilities, just none that I can prove."

"Great." Sherry got up, poured coffee.

Cora took hers, slopped in milk and sugar, took a gulp. "Where's Aaron?"

"He went home."

"On good terms?"

"Not really."

"How come?"

"We had another fight. We went to the movies to make up."

"Oh."

"Yeah. Me running out in the middle didn't help."

"I'm sure you blamed me."

"That was small consolation."

"I mean to Aaron."

"So do I."

Cora chugged the rest of her coffee, pushed the cup back, and got up. "Come on. Let's go Google."

Sherry took her coffee into the office and sat at the computer. "What do you want to Google? Oh, I forgot, you don't know, do you?"

"Not really. I gotta find out why Wilbur stole his own chairs."

"Why in the world would he?"

"I don't know. I'm beginning to think it has something to do with the Kleinsmidt diamonds."

"Wait a minute. I thought the Kleinsmidt diamonds don't exist."

"They don't."

Sherry cocked her head ironically. "I can see why this might be tough to Google."

Chapter 56.

CORA FELTON DROVE down the driveway just as Dennis Pride turned in. She spun the wheel, hit the brake, and skidded sideways, blocking the drive.

Cora was out the door before her car even stopped moving. She descended on Dennis, leveled a finger, and suggested if he were to back up it would be better for all involved, though not exactly in those words.

Dennis hopped out of his car with his hands raised, just as if he'd been stopped for reckless driving and was eager to show the arresting officer that he was sober and unarmed.

"Don't get out of your car," Cora told him. "Get back in your car, turn around, drive off, and don't stop until you run out of gas."

"I didn't come to see Sherry. I came to see you."

"I don't date married men."

That tripped him up. Dennis couldn't think of a single response that wouldn't get him in trouble. It was almost comical. After an awkward pause, he opted to ignore the remark completely. "I followed him last night."

"Who?"

"Chuck Dillinger. I followed him to see what he'd do."

"What did he do?"

"Left the house, got in his car, and drove to the nearest gas station."

"And got gas?" Cora said, lightly mocking him.

"Yeah, he got gas. But while he was filling up he went to the pay phone and made a call."

Cora frowned. "From the pay phone?"

"Yeah."

"He didn't have a cell phone?"

"If he did, he didn't use it. He went to the pay phone. It's a gas station convenience store, with the phone on the outside wall."

"On Elm Street?"

"I don't know the names of the streets. At the traffic light."

"That's the one. So he made a call?"

"Yeah. I got close enough to hear. And I thought you should know."

"Why?"

"It was a funny call. He said, 'It's me. We got trouble.' Then he listened and said, 'I have no idea.' He listened again and said, 'No, she hasn't got a clue.' He laughed and said, 'Thank God she wrecked the car.' "

"Then what?"

"Then I think he saw me, because he said, 'Gotta go,' and hung up the phone."

"What did he do then?"

"Paid for the gas and went home. I watched the house for a while, but he stayed put."

"You drove all the way up from New York to tell me this?"

"I came by last night. With Brenda. There was no one here."

"With Brenda?"

"Yeah. She thought it was important."

"Okay, you told me. Now get the hell out of here."

Dennis glared at her to show he couldn't be pushed around, then did what she said.

Cora watched him drive off and frowned.