“I like Dora for it,” Elysia said promptly. “She has a vengeful nature and makes no bones about wanting poor Dicky punished. She stalked him. Some of those phone messages she left were more than a little scary. She’s not afraid to take risks and they may have been partnered in illegal activities with antiquities.”

“She has an alibi.”

“I don’t believe in that alibi. Alibis can be broken, as we both know.”

“No one seems to think this one is breakable. Also I think we can scratch the theory of the homicidal bookie. Mr. Meagher says that’s a dead end.”

“Did you speak to Bradley today?” Elysia’s attention seemed focused on eating corn on the cob without dropping a single kernel.

“I did. I had a lunch meeting with Mara Allen and I stopped by his office.”

Elysia said nothing.

“So,” A.J. continued into that silence, “He says that line of inquiry can safely be closed. Dicky did gamble but he paid his debts promptly and he didn’t win more than he lost. A good customer, in other words, and they’re apparently sorry to lose him.”

Elysia seemed to be brooding.

“Which leads us to the next theory. Angry ex-lovers. Yours and Dicky’s.”

“Mine?” Elysia did look startled at that.

“Yes.”

“I don’t have any angry ex-lovers.” Elysia’s expression altered. “You can’t be serious.”

“According to what Maddie said, Mr. Meagher has had a thing about dating you back to about one million years BC.”

“Thank you for reminding me, pumpkin. I’d nearly forgotten those happy days when he used to take me out for pterodactyl rides.”

“Come on, Mother. Even I’ve noticed Mr. Meagher is crazy about you.”

“He’d have to be crazy indeed to shoot someone as foolish and as harmless as poor Dicky. Bradley had no idea I was seeing Dicky, and if he had known it, he’d have quickly seen how utterly unimportant that relationship was.” Elysia’s cheeks were pink and her tone sharp. Apparently, unexpectedly, this line of inquiry was hitting a little too close to home.

“Mr. Meagher knew what time we were having Easter dinner.”

“Of course he did. So did you.”

A.J. said reluctantly, “Did he know you were leaving the house to go buy milk?”

“Of course n-” Elysia’s face froze.

Seeing her startled expression, A.J.’s heart sank. “Did he know?”

Elysia whispered, “He called to verify at what time we were eating just as I was leaving for the shop. I told him I was running out to buy a tin of milk.”

A.J. wasn’t sure what to say.

Elysia straightened. “This is bloody ludicrous,” she snapped. “Bradley Meagher is no more a murderer than I am. The case against him is utterly and ridiculously circumstantial. I refuse to discuss this line of reasoning any further.” Her eyes were very bright.

“Okay,” A.J. said mildly. She turned the page of the legal pad.

“Bradley is not a murderer.”

“Got it.” A.J. glanced over the scrawled notes on the next page. “That leaves Dicky’s vengeful ex-lovers.”

“Dora.”

“Besides Dora.”

“We don’t know any of his ex-lovers except for Maddie. Which reminds me. Maddie’s death is somehow connected to Dicky’s, and Bradley Meagher wouldn’t have harmed a hair on Maddie’s head.”

A.J. said thoughtfully, “That’s a good point. What if Dicky and Maddie’s deaths have nothing to do with blackmail at all?”

“What do you mean?” Elysia looked wary, still on guard against further attempts to implicate Bradley Meagher. “They were divorced. What other connection could there be?”

“I’m not sure. I’m just brainstorming here. They were divorced, but what if there was still some financial connection? Some property or business interest they jointly owned?”

Elysia brightened. “That’s very good. Perhaps Maddie never changed her will? She was quite wealthy; although I think she spent a small fortune on that money pit she called a renovation.”

“But Dicky died first,” A.J. pointed out. “So I don’t see how that helps even if Maddie didn’t change her will. Dicky died first so anything he might have inherited from Maddie would surely be null and void.” A.J. propped her chin on her hand, thinking it over. “And where does Peggy Graham tie into this? Assuming she was murdered.”

“She had to have been murdered.”

“Maybe. But if Peggy’s tied into it, then we can probably eliminate the antiquities theft line of investigation.”

“Not so fast,” Elysia said. “Don’t forget that Mart Crowley said her sister was on a number of boards for charities and the arts. Perhaps she was on the board of some museum? Perhaps her death does tie in with the illegal sale of antiquities.”

“Not bad.” A.J. made a note to follow up on that. “There aren’t any bones in that, are there?” she added as Elysia tossed Monster a piece of chicken skin.

Monster caught it in one snap, like a hungry shark.

“Of course not.”

“There is one other theory we haven’t really even considered.”

“What’s that?”

“Maybe Dicky was telling the truth all along.”

“About what?”

“About you. Maybe he was serious about giving up his life of crime for you.”

To her surprise, Elysia flushed. “That’s sweet, lovie. But you needn’t worry about sparing my feelings. There were no illusions on my side.”

“But hear me out. Suppose Dicky did want out of this hypothetical blackmail ring. Suppose he wanted you to make an honest man of him. We’ve already established-well, theorized at least-that there are potentially ruthless people running some kind of extortion racket targeting single, middle-aged women. If we’re right about all that, and if it’s true that these people silenced Peggy Graham, then what wouldn’t they be willing to do to stop Dicky from bailing out?”

“Why wouldn’t they just let him go? He was hardly the type to incriminate himself by going to the police.”

“Maybe your reputation preceded you. Or maybe mine did.”

“Your what?”

“I know it’s a stretch, but hear me out. There was a write-up on us in the Stillbrook Streamer last summer after we solved Nicole’s murder. Maybe the amateur sleuth thing factored in for Dicky’s partners in crime.” A.J. added with triumph, “And maybe that’s why he was killed in your front yard. Maybe it wasn’t someone taking a big chance, maybe it wasn’t by chance after all. Maybe it was a deliberate attempt to throw suspicion on you!”

Twenty

Lily called in sick on Friday morning and A.J.’s sleuthing had to take a backseat to the scramble of trying to cover the Number One Instructor’s classes.

“She’s flexing her muscles,” Emma remarked as A.J. glanced over Lily’s calendar. “She really doesn’t think this place could survive without her. Do you know she hasn’t taken a vacation of more than two days in a row in over five years?”

“I know she hasn’t taken one in the last year.”

“Five years,” Emma said doggedly. “This studio is her life.”

“She probably heard from Mara Allen yesterday that I’m not going to sell Sacred Balance.”

Emma looked relieved. “I can see that might make her feel a mite queasy.”

A.J. studied Lily’s schedule and decided they could manage without trying to call Denise Farber in from her day off. “If Suze can take Lily’s Teens class and Simon can take the Teacher Training class and her Yin Yoga we can do this. It’s my heavy day, but I can take her Vinyasa and still catch my Restorative evening class.”

“Don’t go throwing your back out after you’ve just got on your feet again.”

“I won’t. I think these months of yoga are to thank for my being back on my feet so quickly. The last time my back went out I was out of action for six weeks.”

“Just don’t overdo it.”

A.J. looked up, smiling. “I think this might work pretty well, actually. I’m going to hold a mini staff meeting before the evening sessions start. I want to put to bed the rumor that I’m selling once and for all.”