“Thank you,” he said. “Now. Let’s talk about why exactly you went to see Olga today.”

“I told you why.”

“I mean, what your thought process was that got you to the point that you thought going to visit her and ask questions was a good idea.”

“I’m not following.”

There was a bottle of beer sitting on the table and he picked it up and took a swig. “Why did you take it upon yourself to play Jessica Fletcher?”

I frowned. “Jessica who?”

“The old lady from Murder, She Wrote,” he said, returning my frown with one of his own. “Didn’t you ever watch that show?”

“No.” I wasn’t going to admit that I’d never heard of it, either.

“Well, you should have,” he said. He handed the bottle to me and I took a sip. “We’ll remedy that another time. But let me ask this another way. You’re a wife, a mom, a teacher, a home engineer and a sex goddess. What you are not is a detective. Why were you playing one today?”

“I wasn’t playing detective,” I said. I set the beer down and looked at him. “I was just…trying to find out some more information.”

“Which is what Crocket and Tubbs used to do on Miami Vice,” he said, raising an eyebrow.

“Who? On what?”

“Oh my God,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Never mind. My point is that you were doing something you didn’t need to be doing. Why?”

I sighed. “Because I feel like it’s my fault.”

“It’s not your fault. Unless you killed him. Wait,” he said, his eyes going wide. “Did you?”

I glared at him. “Stop. Of course I didn’t. But I feel like I was the one who brought him to our home. And Em was getting some flack from kids at school and the homeschool families at the co-op clearly aren’t comfortable with it. So it feels like it’s my fault.”

“But it’s not,” Jake said. He sifted through the edge pieces, looking for another blue sky piece.

“Still. Someone put him in our coal chute for a reason. And I think that reason was me.”

“You don’t know that for sure,” he said.

I shrugged. “There really isn’t another explanation.”

And there wasn’t, because I’d run all the possibilities through my head all day long. I was the one link between Olaf and our coal chute. There weren’t any other possibilities, unless you believed in totally random coincidences. And I didn’t. I believed in karma and good luck and wishes but coincidences? No way. Everything happened for a reason.

“Even if that’s the case,” Jake said, bringing the puzzle box closer and peering at it. “That doesn’t mean it’s up to you to solve the crime. You’re a homeschool mom, not a detective.”

“Yeah but we’ve done a crime scene unit study,” I argued. “I know stuff.”

He chuckled and covered my hand with his. “I do love your enthusiasm. Doing a unit study with the kids, though, is probably a little bit different than solving an actual crime. And also it’s probably a little less, I don’t know…dangerous?”

“I talked to a lady at a mortuary,” I said, my voice filled with disdain. “I didn’t chase down a knife-wielding maniac.”

“The lady at the mortuary was also a clown,” he said. “Which is worse than a knife-wielding maniac. Everyone knows that.”

“Of course” I said. “Clowns are deadly. I forgot.”

“Daisy.” His voice commanded me to look at him.

I met his gaze. “Jake.”

“Please don’t play amateur detective anymore,” he said. “There are plenty of people around to do that. They’re called the police.”

I tried to wrench my hand out from under his, but he tightened his grip and pulled me off my chair and into his lap. Part of me hated when he did that, but more of me loved it.

“Daisy,” he said, looking at me. “I’m serious. Don’t get carried away here. Let the police do their job.”

I wiggled my arms free and wrapped them around his neck. “Maybe. But right now, I think I’d like to do one of my jobs.”

He smiled and lifted his hips off the chair just a little, pushing into me. “I really, really hope it’s sex goddess and not home engineer.”

I kissed his ear and the half-done puzzle scattered across the table suddenly lost its importance. “You hoped right.”

TWENTY ONE

“Why are we going to Jake’s work?” Will asked from the back seat.

It was the next morning and I was focusing on my mom duties rather than my amateur detective duties. I’d pulled all three of the younger kids out of bed earlier than they were used to and they were still a little sleepy-eyed as I loaded them into the car.

“We’re touring the recycling plant,” I said, glancing in the rearview mirror. “Remember?”

He shrugged and looked out the window.

“I like Daddy’s work,” Sophie said, then yawning. “There’s always cool stuff there.”

“Oh yeah!” Grace said, squirming in her car seat. “Remember when he brought home that headless doll?”

“Yeah!” Sophie said. “And that teddy bear with no legs!”

“Those are so cool,” Grace said. “I hope we find something cool like that today.”

I just hoped I wouldn’t lose any of them on a conveyor belt or to one of the massive trash pickers.

We’d been to Jake’s plant before and the truth was, just calling it a recycling plant didn’t really do it justice. It was funded by the state and what it really did was sort people’s trash in an attempt to recycle as much of it as possible. So they started with large piles and continued sorting it down until they were down to what was truly waste. The plant itself was a maze of conveyors and robots and there tons of places to view the process. Fun and educational and helping to save the planet.

Like, three of my favorite things.

We saw one familiar car in the parking lot and the kids hurried out of the SUV to go look for their friends the conference room. Jake was there, waiting for us, when we walked in.

He kissed me on the cheek. “Hey.”

“Hi,” I said, peering into the room.

Brenda Witt was seated at the table with her five kids. The youngest, baby Mary, was snuggled in a baby carrier against her chest.

Brenda grinned when she saw me. “Hey, Killer.”

I smiled. “Knock it off or you’re next.”

Brenda and I had been friends since Thornton and I moved to Minnesota. Actually, we’d been friends before—I’d visited a few online homeschool groups before the move, trying to figure out co-ops and what the local homeschool culture might be like. Brenda had responded right away and a friendship was born.

“You’re gonna have to fill me in on what happened,” she said. Mary squirmed and a cry tore from her. Brenda fumbled for the pacifier attached to the carrier and gave it back to the baby, who sucked it furiously, eyes closed, her brow furrowed.

“Let’s just say I would have much rather been in Florida with you guys this last week,” I said.

She nodded sympathetically, her short brown bob bouncing up and down. “And not just because of the weather, right?”

“Exactly.”

I set my purse down on the table and glanced out the window that faced the parking lot. No one else had arrived yet for the tour. I shifted my gaze to the clock mounted on the wall. Our tour was supposed to have started five minutes ago.

Brenda read my mind. “Where is everyone?” she asked.

“Probably hiding from the murderer,” I said bitterly.

She frowned. “What?”

“Oh, everyone apparently thinks that since Olaf was found in my house, I’m suspect number one. Even though we didn’t know we had a coal chute. Even though I’d only met Olaf one time. For a total of two hours. You know, completely logical.”

Brenda rolled her eyes to the ceiling. “I hate people.”

I stifled a smile. “Me, too.”

I didn’t hate all people and neither did Brenda. But what we did hate were judgmental, narrow-minded people. Well, and people who walked slow and people who tail-gated us and people who cut in line at McDonald’s. Homeschooling might have been the foundation of our friendship but it was our kindred spirit-ness that was the glue that bound us together.