"Explains what?"

I ran my hands over my face, suddenly tired. "I keep hearing Ariel wasn't exactly, um, overflowing with the milk of human kindness, if you know what I mean. She didn't like people so much for who they were, as for what they could do for her. She cultivated those who could provide her with something she needed."

Lindsey didn't respond, continued watching the herd. I began to get a sick feeling, like I'd stepped on a puppy. I shouldn't have spoken so frankly.

Then she turned back to me. "I never really thought about it that way. But, of course, you're right. She did exactly that."

"You were awfully nice, letting her come to your sessions. It must have made it harder for you," I said, plunging in further.

"She was killing herself." The simple words, stated so matter- of-factly, gave me goose bumps.

I couldn't help asking, though, "Did you like her?"

"I accepted her. Many people didn't."

"Did you accept everything about her?"

"You mean the men?"

"You knew about the high school teacher, then. Owens."

Lindsey's expression clouded. "He should have known better. She acted tough, but she was just a kid. A wildly insecure kid. He lost his job over it, but he should have been prosecuted."

"Did you know she was recently having an affair with a married man?"

She hesitated, licking her lips. "She called me a couple of weeks ago, as a matter of fact."

Interesting. Lindsey hadn't been going to tell me that.

"Did she mention Scott Popper?"

"She talked about two men, both associated with the artists' co-op.

"She was having affairs with both of them?" So she and Jake had progressed beyond e-mails. No wonder Felicia had made that angry phone call.

Lindsey was silent.

"Listen, I know you want to keep her confidence, and I don't blame you. But she was murdered. The police are probably going to show up on your doorstep, asking these same questions. At least, I hope they are, because the people she was involved with right before she died are important, and you have information about them."

Okay, so I wasn't being particularly nice anymore.

With pity on her face-for Ariel and not for me, I hoped-she said, "Yes, she was having affairs with both of them."

"One was a cop, and the other one was a doctor, right?"

Lindsey frowned. "One was a policeman, yes. The other was a mechanic."

"A mechanic?"

"Zak something?"

Oh, wow. Zak Nelson. Not exactly associated with the co-op, but close enough. No wonder he'd wanted to buy one of Ariel's giant canvases. And no wonder Irene seemed to hate Ariel so much; she knew what was going on.

"What else did she say?" I asked.

However, Lindsey was shaking her head. "No. This has gone far enough. I'm sure you're a very nice person, but I don't know you, and I shouldn't be talking to you about Ariel like this. If the police come, fine. But you're not the police, and I'd like you to leave now.

"But-"

"I don't have anything else to tell you. Please. Go."

"All right. Thank you for talking to me," I said. It sounded weak. I could tell by the rueful look on her face that Lindsey regretted talking to me at all. At my insistence she had violated a personal code of ethics.

On one hand, the last twenty-four hours had gleaned a pile of new information about Ariel, some of which might be helpful in determining who murdered her.

On the other hand, I felt like dirt.

TWENTY-ONE

I'D LEARNED A LOT about Ariel, things that Robin and Barr might not have unearthed by themselves. I'd sworn up and down I wasn't going to investigate her murder, yet it sure looked like that was exactly what I was doing. Why couldn't I stop asking questions? Did I have some kind of genetic mutation?

Gawd. Well, that was it. Finished. Over. Finito. No more snooping or questioning or even wondering to myself. No more gnawing on the problem like it was a big juicy bone and I was a hungry terrier. Barr had asked me to gossip, but by stealing Ariel's diary and talking to Lindsey Drucker, I'd crossed that line.

Too many people knew I'd been asking questions. Someone had killed Ariel in a very violent manner, and the last thing I wanted was to set them off or make them think I was a danger in anyway, shape, or form. After all, it was more than likely I knew the murderer.

Nope, I thought. Stick a fork in me; I'm done.

At least for a few days.

I mean, it made sense to back off and see how things played out. I knew a lot more about Ariel now. Maybe it was enough. I'd learned by now that it was a bad idea to barrel ahead, poking at hornet nests just to see what came out.

Because I already knew the result would be hornets. And I didn't like getting stung.

Our yellow house on the edge of the historic district of Cadyville looked as welcoming as a grandmother's hug. Brilliant azure clematis twined up a trellis to one side of the tiny porch, breathtaking against the butter color of the wall. Lavender bushes lined the walkway, and showy annuals brightened the more sedate perennials tucked all over the small yard. As I walked to the front door, I couldn't help smiling. I was such a homebody, and this was definitely my home. Time for a shower and then back to my normal life.

Once inside the door, though, my cheerful disposition faded. Voices drew me into the living room, where I found Meghan and Barr, iced coffees in hand, chatting up a storm. As soon as I entered, though, their animated conversation died a sudden death. The looks on both of their faces didn't improve my mood.

"What happened?" I asked.

Meghan glanced at Barr, then said, "Hannah stopped by."

I dropped into a chair. "Again" It wasn't a question.

She nodded. "She seems determined to talk to you."

I exhaled audibly. "Fine. I'll talk to her. Let's just get it over with."

"We have to find her first," Barr said. "And when we do, I want to be the first one to speak with her."

Something ominous in his tone. I peered at Meghan. "What did she say?"

She twisted her mouth and shrugged. "Only that she wanted to talk to you, was in fact determined to talk to you. It wasn't so much what she said, as how she said it."

Hmmm. Meghan had been spooked enough to call Barr.

"Well, I'm here now," I said. "So next time she comes back she can have her wish. I don't know that she's going to be very happy with what I have to say, though." I smiled at Barr. It was not a nice smile.

He stood. "I'm going to try and track her down before she gets a chance to bother you again. I'm sorry about all this, Meghan."

She shook her head. "It's all right. I know you'll take care of it."

I walked him to the door. "I have a lot to tell you about my trip to La Conner. "

"Can it wait?" he asked. "I really want to find Hannah."

Great. He was neglecting his job just to track down his ex-wife so she'd stop bugging us.

"I guess," I said. "Or I could tell Robin."

He looked alarmed. "No, let me do that." Bending down, he gave me a long kiss. Then he whispered, "Come over tonight and tell me all about it, okay? We'll have dinner."

I nodded. "What sounds good?"

"Huh uh. I'm cooking for you. But I'm afraid my repertoire is somewhat limited, so you'll have to take what you get."

He was cooking for me? "Deal," I said. This was the first time he'd cooked a meal for me. It was bound to be horrible, but I didn't care. It was a case of the thought that counts.