Before I said something rash, such as, You’d have to shoot me first, Dad said, “Maureen, she has a bodyguard.”

“A bodyguard?” Mom glanced at me in surprise. “I didn’t see anyone guarding you.”

Marco raised his hand. “That would be me.”

Mom regarded Marco with some uncertainty; Lottie and Grace looked pleased; and Reilly sipped his coffee, trying to stay above the fray. Dad, however, was watching me. At his wink, I gave him a thumbs-up.

“Our daughter is in good hands, Maureen,” he said.

“We’d better get ready to open,” Lottie announced, standing. “It’s almost nine.”

That ended the discussion. Reilly thanked us for the goodies and left. Mom cautioned Marco to take very good care of me, after which Dad told Marco he had every confidence that he would, and they left. Then Marco departed, too, but not before extracting promises from Grace and Lottie that they wouldn’t leave me alone in the shop.

“And you,” he said to me, tapping the end of my nose with his fingertip, “have to promise not to leave Bloomers without an escort.”

“No problem,” I said. “I’m not in any hurry to make myself a target.”

“Good girl.” He gave me a kiss and left.

I shut the door and glanced around at my lovely little flower shop. It had been more than a week since the break-in, and I doubted whether anyone could tell it had ever happened. Now I just had to make sure it never did again.

Grace was in the parlor preparing for our usual batch of morning customers, and Lottie was taking inventory of the glass-fronted display case against the back wall of the shop, so I went through the purple curtain and settled at my desk to dial the prosecutor’s office. But just as I was about to punch in the courthouse number, the phone rang.

I answered with my usual, “Bloomers Flower Shop. How may I help you?”

An overly chipper male voice said, “Well, good morning there, honey. Is the owner of your business handy?”

I got that a lot. Trying to make myself sound older, I said, “How may I help you?”

“I have a shipment of exotic lilies coming in next month, with the best prices you’ll find anywhere. You won’t want to miss out on this opportunity-”

Another salesman. I hung up on him. I hated cold calls. I dialed the courthouse before anyone else tried to get through on my line. “Mr. Morgan, please,” I said to the secretary. “This is Abby Knight.”

“Abby, how are you?” Morgan asked a few moments later. “I just got a full report on what happened last night. Is your niece doing okay?”

“She’s still traumatized, and I’m a little shook up myself, which is why I’m calling. I’ll feel so much better when they find that other kidnapper and lock him up, along with whoever else was involved. So what do you know about the evidence the cops recovered last night?”

There was a pause, and then he answered in his best imitation of a prosecutor’s voice, “As much as I need to know.”

So he wanted to play it coy. Fine. I loved a challenge.

First rule of coyness: State your question as a known fact. “Then I’m sure you’re not surprised that the evidence ties Nils Raand to the kidnappers.”

“Which evidence are you talking about-the flowers or the note?”

Flowers? Note? They’d collected two pieces of incriminating evidence?

“Wait a minute,” Morgan said. “How did you hear about the evidence? Okay. Never mind. I suspect I know, but I don’t want it confirmed. Better for all of us.”

Rule two: Pave the way with flattery. “You’re a wise man, Greg Morgan. I can see why Nikki thinks so highly of you.”

“She does?”

Rule three: Be authoritative. “Would I say so if it weren’t true? Now, about the flowers, are we talking bouquets, baskets, something sent to him by one of the kidnappers…?”

“I thought you knew about the evidence.”

Rule four: Don’t admit ignorance. “Actually, I knew about the other evidence-the, um, note to Raand-”

“Don’t you mean from Raand?”

“That’s what I meant. The note from Raand.”

Morgan was silent for a moment. “You didn’t know about either one, did you?”

Rule five: Punt. “With what the cops recovered from the scene, plus the threats against me, and the break-in at my shop, the prosecution has to be building a case against Raand, right?”

“You can stop fishing, Abby. You know I can’t discuss the case with you.”

Rule six: Make it easy for him. “I’m not asking for a discussion, Greg, just a yes or no.”

“Same thing.”

“Not.”

“Yes.”

Wait. He’d lost me. “Yes, it’s the same thing, or yes, they have a case?”

He sighed sharply, clearly growing exasperated with me. “Yes.”

“To both?”

“Yes!”

Finally! Rule seven: Leave him with a glow. “Okay, Greg, I’ll stop pestering you. I can tell you’ve got way more important things to do than talk to me, but thanks for giving me a few moments. Nikki’s a lucky girl to be…” What? Dating Morgan?

I decided to leave it at that.

I hung up the phone just as Lottie brought in a message for me. As she handed me the slip of paper, I said, “I just confirmed with Greg Morgan that the other item of evidence Reilly told us about this morning is actually two items, and they do tie Raand to the kidnappers. The prosecution is building a case against him even as we speak.”

“That’s good news.”

“Yes, it is. I’m positive Raand was behind all the threats I received, so why wouldn’t he be behind the kidnappings?”

“Sweetie, the fact that you’re asking me makes me think you’re having a few doubts.”

I sighed. “I hate to admit it, but you’re right. Marco brought up something earlier that I keep pondering, and that’s why Raand would hire someone who’d worked for him.”

“That’s not so hard to believe. She wasn’t working for him when she died.”

“Okay, but even so, I’ve seen Nils Raand in operation, and both times he struck me as a calculating, meticulous, no-nonsense type. So why would he hire two obviously inexperienced people to do any type of work for him, especially kidnappings?”

“Then how do you explain the evidence?”

“I can’t-unless it’s purely circumstantial. That’s why I want to find out more about it. Unfortunately, I have a feeling Morgan isn’t going to be of any more help there.”

“But, sweetie, if it wasn’t Raand behind the kidnappings, who would it be?”

“Don’t I wish I had an answer to that. I’d prefer to think the kidnappers cooked up the scheme themselves, since one of them is out of the picture now, and the other soon will be. The only problem is, what would they kidnap me for? My mortgage? Flowers?”

I was still holding Lottie’s message, so I stopped to read it. “Another sales call? How many does that make this week? Seven?”

“You weren’t around last winter, but they usually start flocking in around this time of the year for the all-important pre-Easter sales. This fella had some awfully good prices, though, so I told him you’d be in this afternoon, if he wanted to call back. If you don’t want to talk to him, I’ll just have him drop off his catalog.”

I pinned her message to the bulletin board. There weren’t enough hours in my day to accomplish all I needed to do. The phone rang, and I answered with my standard greeting.

“Hey, Buttercup,” Marco said. “Turn on the news.”

I turned to whisper to Lottie, “Would you turn on the radio?” While she hurried to the back counter to switch on her radio/CD player, I said to Marco, “What’s up?”

“The cops found Dwayne Hudge hiding in his uncle’s basement in South Bend. He was just booked into the county jail. It’s on now. I’ll wait.”

Lottie and I listened to the news reporter tell us the exact same thing Marco just had. “Well, that’s a relief,” I said. “Maybe now we’ll find out if Raand was behind the kidnappings.”

“I’m sure he was smart enough to lawyer up. I’ll let you know if I hear anything more. Everything cool there?”