"Tell you what," I said. "I'll go talk to her roommate, see if I can find out more about her brother. Maybe we can just ship the art off to him."

Irene pressed her lips together, as if to keep from saying something. Jake nodded his approval.

"That would be nice," Ruth said with a slight look of triumph on her face. "Now, what do we do about the bad publicity?"

No one responded. Sighing inwardly, I stepped up again. "I've got to say, I don't think it's a problem for business. People are weird, and they'll want to see where the murder happened. We need to change the lock on the doors and implement some rules about being safe when working there, but for the most part, I bet we get more traffic than ever."

Jake leaned his rather squarish chin on a meaty fist. Eyeing his spatulate digits, I reflected that it was a good thing he hadn't chosen gynecology as a specialty. "You may be right," he said.

We finished our coffee drinks and shuffled out, squinting, to the hot, bright street. Through the window I saw Luce reach for the phone, but there wasn't anything we'd said that was a big secret.

Go for it, girl. Gossip on.

"I thought you said you weren't going to investigate Ariel's murder," Meghan said, tying up an heirloom tomato plant with strips cut from old pantyhose.

I looked up from where I was sowing another section of slowbolt cilantro. "Oh, for heaven's sake. I'm not investigating anything. Only checking with her roommate to find out where to send her art."

"Sure you are." She walked over to the large wicker basket on the ground between us. "The zucchini plants are going nuts. I'm going to strip some of the blossoms."

Yum. I'd been waiting for a chance to add squash blossoms to a light stir-fry, or stuff them with fresh mozzarella and chopped pumpkin seeds, dust them with chipotle chili powder and flour and fry them all golden and crispy.

Finished with the cilantro, I began harvesting the outer leaves of the lettuce. "We have a ton of this red-leaf. How about wilted lettuce and stuffed squash blossoms with some grilled lamb tonight?"

"Now you're talking," Meghan said. "You should invite Barr over.

I sat back on my heels and let my fingers sift through the dirt at my feet. "Oh, all right."

It felt like Meghan was playing matchmaker, which was pretty weird since I'd dated the man in question for several months already.

She bent over the tumbling vines. "Do you think she did it?"

"Who?"

Her look told me to stop being stupid. "Chris."

"I don't know. I doubt it. It sounds like she has an alibi."

"So you went over there today?"

I nodded. "I told you Barr asked me to keep my finger on the pulse of the CRAG crowd."

"I knew you'd get involved one way or another." She finished tying up another tomato plant and stood upright, stretching her back. "At least you have permission from the police this time."

Well, maybe not all the police. Robin would pop a vein if she knew Barr had asked for my help.

"I'm going to run over and talk to Ariel's roommate now, while I'm thinking about it;" I said.

One side of Meghan's mouth turned up. "Okay. See you when you get back"

As I guided my little Toyota pickup down the street toward the address Ruth had given me, I pondered the exchange at Beans R Us. Irene-mousy little Irene-had been downright nasty at times. It was obvious she'd disliked Ariel intensely. Ruth had been uncharacteristically taciturn. Jake, on the other hand, had been vociferously insistent that Ariel's art was well taken care of. He seemed quite upset by her death. Oh, don't get me wrong; her murder was horrible. It was just that something about his reaction made me think it was a little more personal for him than even, for example, me-the woman who had actually found her body.

Lordy, what was the deal with the CRAG members? They were like a dysfunctional family. I bet they had a few dirty little secrets hidden away, too.

Blue and red lights flashed in my rearview mirror: a silver Impala, the "undercover" prowler of the Cadyville police department. At least Barr had shown a little subtlety and kept the siren off.

The siren chirped.

Nice.

I wondered what he'd do if I didn't stop. Arrest me?

The siren chirped again.

Perhaps not the best time to find out. I turned onto a residential street and pulled over.

Barr got out. I stayed where I was and rolled down the window. Our conversation on the phone the night before had been short and slightly uncomfortable. When he stopped beside me, I silently offered my license and registration.

He ignored it. "Are you still mad at me?"

Hmmm. "I don't think so. Why, has something else happened?"

"I talked to my mother," he said.

I raised my eyebrows.

"She said Hannah took a week off. My brother, clever bear that he is, told her about the money from my uncle." He rolled his eyes. "Randall, who's seven years younger than I am, by the way, has a bit of a crush on Hannah. Mom thinks he was trying to impress her."

"So she's here for the whole week?" I asked.

He shook his head. "No. I called her over at Horse Acres. Sent her packing in no uncertain terms."

Wow. "Really?"

"Really."

"That seems kind of mean," I said.

He grinned. "I can call her back and tell her to stay. We could all go out for dinner, if you'd like."

"Nah. That's okay."

"Thought you might say that," he said.

"Listen," I said. "I'm on my way to talk to Ariel's roommate about where to send her CRAG art. Do you know about Ariel's brother?"

He nodded. "His address was in her things."

Of course. I knew he and Robin would've already gone to Ariel's apartment, but I felt a little deflated anyway.

"His last name isn't Skylark?"

"Nope. Kaminski."

"Ruth said Ariel changed her name," I said.

"Apparently so."

" why?

He lifted a shoulder. "She liked the sound of Skylark better than Kaminski."

"Did you learn anything else interesting?" I asked, a note of frustration creeping in.

"From the roommate? Not much." He looked regretful. "Robin, well…"

Ah.

"Come over for dinner tonight," I said. "We're having lamb."

His eyes widened. "Grilled?"

"Of course."

"Count me in."

"See you then." I rolled up my window.

He placed his right hand against it, the pattern of his palm pressed against the glass. With one finger, I traced his love line. My eyes lifted and met his. I bit my lip.

We both smiled.