I idly leafed through All About Beer and scanned an article on hops growing in the Pacific Northwest. Bored with fermentation info, I tried to engage Tammy Lynn in conversation. “So, Tammy Lynn, are you coming to our play tonight?”

“I’m fixin’ to,” she gushed, suddenly animated. “I wouldn’t miss it for anythin’. My brother said Eric’s been practicin’ day and night.”

I noted mention of Eric Olsen’s name brought roses to her cheeks. Unfortunately, Eric seemed rather smitten by the perky Megan Warner.

Further talk of either Eric or Forever, My Darling was cut short by the angry buzz of the intercom. Tammy Lynn jumped at the sound; her pretty but plain face bore a deer-in-the-headlights expression that quickly changed to apologetic. “Ah, Sheriff Wiggins will see you now.”

I gathered my purse and the cute little gift bag, also purchased at the dollar store, took a deep breath, and started down the hall. Along the way, I gave myself a pep talk: I am a mature adult; I will not get flustered; I will not prattle like an idiot.

I forgot all three the instant I encountered Sheriff Sumter Wiggins.

“Miz McCall,” he growled in that velvety baritone of his, “what brings you heah?”

“I appreciate your taking the time to see me,” I said with a smile. “Brought you a little something.”

His handsome dark face didn’t crinkle with even a hint of a smile in return. “We’ve been over this before, Miz McCall. I don’t want you bringin’ me stuff. Folks might get the wrong impression.”

“Nonsense.” I waved my hand dismissively. “Who’d get upset over my giving you a cheap little something from the dollar store?”

“You do a lot of your gift shoppin’ at the dollar store?”

Without waiting for an invitation, I sat down in the chair across the desk. “It’s words of wisdom.”

He did that one-eyebrow lift that I often tried to imitate but with less effect. “You insinuatin’ I need help in the wisdom department?”

I forged ahead. “The first page I saw when I opened it read, ‘Life ain’t no dress rehearsal.’ Think of how profound that is-not to mention topical.”

He looked blank.

“Dress rehearsal… get it? Tonight’s the play.”

“The play, of course. It must’ve slipped my mind. I beg your pardon, ma’am. My social secretary failed to remind me of the grand occasion.”

“No need for sarcasm, Sheriff.”

He canted his head to one side, and studied me like a worm under a microscope. I could almost see the gears inside his head turning. I fought the urge to fidget.

“Did you by any chance recall more of the conversation you overheard between Mr. and Missus Ledeaux the night he was murdered?” he finally asked.

“You’re not thinking outside the box,” I charged. There was something about that phrase that appealed to me. “You’ve got the wrong person. Claudia’s innocent.”

Leaning back in his chair, he locked his fingers together over his narrow waist. “That so?”

“Yes, that’s so,” I said with more spunk than sense. “You’re afraid to color outside the lines, to take a chance you might be mistaken.”

“Miz McCall, I realize Miz Ledeaux is your friend, and I commend your loyalty, but it’s my sworn duty to follow where the evidence leads.”

Since he hadn’t tossed me out of his office yet, I decided this meeting was going remarkably well. Not trusting my run of luck, I plunged ahead. “Lance was a liar, a cheat, and a deadbeat dad with a penchant for gambling. If you’d thoroughly checked his background, you’d know there are lots-probably dozens-of people who wanted him dead.”

“Dozens?” He shook his head sadly. “I must be pretty incompetent to be overlookin’ dozens of suspects.”

“Oh, dear,” I gasped, realizing how I must’ve sounded. “I didn’t mean… I’m sorry if…”

Oops! This conversation had taken a decided turn for the worse. First, I acknowledged buying him cheap gifts. Next, I suggested he was lacking in the wisdom department. Then, to top it off, I questioned his competency. Good thing the man wasn’t the sensitive sort.

“Knowin’ how you like to play Nancy Drew, tell me everythin’ you found out about the dozens of folks lined up to off Mr. Ledeaux.”

That was all the encouragement I needed to launch into an account of what I’d learned about Nadine and Krystal and their relationship with Lance. “But,” I concluded, “I don’t think either of them killed him. I was just using them as an example of people who might want to harm Mr. Ledeaux.”

He dropped the casual pose, leaning forward, his huge hands folded on the desk in front of him. “I admire your efforts on behalf of your friend, but it’s not up to me to decide whether or not she’s guilty of murder. That’ll be up to a jury of her peers. Now, if there’s nothin’ else…”

I started to rise, when a thought occurred to me. Maybe I needed to heed my own advice and think outside the box; color outside the lines, so to speak. Whoever killed Lance had been clever and cunning-a real pro, not a rank amateur.

All this time, I’d conveniently overlooked-or ignored-the fact that there might be a real pro, an honest-to-goodness criminal, in our midst. The time had come to shift the focus of my investigation. If there truly was a cold-blooded murderer in Serenity Cove-and I shuddered at the thought-then I knew where to begin my search.

“Actually, there is one more thing,” I said.

Those pitch-black eyes of his rolled heavenward. I thought I heard a groan, but it might have been his chair squeaking.

“It occurred to me that any person living in Serenity Cove Estates or in the vicinity could be the guilty party. All the residents have access to the rec center. It would have been a simple matter to slip in or out. Marietta Perkins admitted to Connie Sue Brody that the place was so busy that night, she had a hard time keeping track of comings and goings.”

The sheriff sighed, a sound that started at the soles of his polished size-thirteen oxfords and worked its way up through six feet two inches of muscle and attitude. “I’m sure, Miz McCall, you’ll get to the point sooner or later. I’d prefer sooner if it’s all the same to you.”

I clutched the strap of my shoulder bag like a lifeline-which was exactly what I was trying to cling to in a last-ditch effort to save Claudia. “I wondered if you’d be kind enough, Sheriff, to allow me to look through your old Most Wanted posters. I know it’s a long shot, but you can never tell what might turn up.”

When he looked undecided, I dangled a carrot. “Besides, that will keep me out of your hair for hours, possibly days or even weeks.”

“Sure thing,” he said, brightening at the prospect. “I’ll have Tammy Lynn set you up in the interrogation room.”

Good as his word, the sheriff followed through on his offer. Minutes later I found myself ensconced in the drab and dreary windowless room where I’d been warned about sins of omission.

“Here you go, ma’am.” Tammy Lynn plunked an arm-load of dusty binders on the table in front of me.

I eyed the heap with grim determination. I’d no idea how daunting the task would be. It’d keep me busy all right, clear into the next millennium.

“Holler if you need anythin’ else,” Tammy Lynn said as she departed.

Heaving a sigh that rivaled the sheriff’s, I got down to business. Felons, as I’ve previously noted, came in all sizes, shapes, and colors. I was happy to discover that the FBI had very thoughtfully had age enhancement done on some but not all of the fugitives. Makeovers are always a hit-even when done at the government’s behest. Bald or thinning gray hair, medium build, average height. The social security crowd of felons, I discovered, would seamlessly blend into any retirement community in the country.

My eyes lingered on one photo in particular that looked vaguely familiar, but for the life of me I couldn’t think why. Blame it on one of those danged senior moments. It was the caption underneath the picture, however, that really caught my attention. Loves to leave a calling card, often in the form of a dead animal. Were dead canaries or snakes considered dead animals? I wondered.