I pulled the plates from the cabinet and set them on the counter without smashing them. Then I recounted my run-in with Carol.

“So you quit?” Jake asked, when I was done. “You really quit?”

“Yes!” I said. “What else could I have done? They’re blackballing us!”

He frowned.

“What?” I asked, watching him. “You disagree?”

He pulled a diet soda from the fridge and leaned against the closed door. “I think people are overreacting.”

“Oh, you think?”

He held up a hand. “Don’t get mad at me. But, yeah. I think all of the people there are overreacting to something they know nothing about.” He paused. “And I think that rather than creating enemies, it would be better to just sort of ignore them.”

I pulled cups down from the cabinet and let the door slam shut. “They banned the kids from the class.”

“No,” he said, his tone measured. “One idiotic mother doesn’t want them in her class. Which is, very stupid. But would they want to be in that class anyway?”

“I have no idea,” I said. I pulled on the fridge door handle and Jake slid out of the way. “And neither will they since they aren’t allowed to take it,” I added bitterly.

He shifted so he was against the counter instead. “Did you ask them if they wanted to quit the co-op?”

“No, of course not. When Carol told me, I freaked out.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Are there other classes they want to take?”

“Probably,” I admitted. “But that’s not the point.”

He held up his hand again. “Hold on. Listen to me.”

I made a face and filled the water pitcher at the sink.

“If there are other classes they want to take…and that they are welcome in…is it worth yanking them out of the co-op completely because of one lunatic?” he asked.

I watched the water drip into the plastic pitcher. I hated it when he was so calm and rational. And made too much sense. It completely countered my superpowers of freaking out and irrationalness.

“If you want to take them out, I’m cool with it,” he said. He brought the can to his mouth and took a long drink. “But I think if it’s going to be something they’ll really miss, then we need to think about just rolling our eyes at the nutjobs and tolerate them for awhile.”

“Thornton has a girlfriend,” I blurted out.

“And we are changing the subject ever so smoothly,” Jake said, smiling. “Thornton has a girlfriend. Excellent. Or is it?”

“Sure.” I set the water pitcher down on the dining room table and Jake followed me in there.

“And is she a taxi driver or heroin dealer or kleptomaniac or something else this time?”

“Be nice,” I said. He’d brought the plates with him and I took the stack, dealing them out around the table. “All I know is she’s apparently a singer.”

His mouth twitched. “For his band, no doubt.”

“Yes. Babette’s Insane.”

“How do you know? You haven’t even met her yet.”

“No, that’s the band’s name,” I corrected. “However, it is also her first name.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. “Okay. Great. I assume you spoke to him today and this is how you gleaned all of this info?”

I told him about his showing up in the parking lot at 4-H. By the time I finished recounting our encounter, Jake wasn’t smiling.

“Are you kidding me?” he said, frowning. “He’s telling us what’s best for those kids? From a guy who can count the minutes he spends with them on his fingers and toes?”

“I know,” I said. “I set him straight. He backed off pretty quickly.”

Jake shook his head, still irritated. “Yeah, well, good for him. The next time we need parenting advice from him will be never. And you can tell him that. Or I will.”

I’d gone back into the kitchen and grabbed a potholder off the counter. “And now who’s overreacting?”

He waved a hand in the air. “Entirely different thing.”

I chuckled, opened the oven, and pulled the glass dish out off the rack. I closed the oven door and set the dish on the stove top to cool. “You say so.”

He opened the fridge, pulling out a beer this time. He yanked the top off of it, taking a long pull from it. He took a deep breath and exhaled. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” I smiled. “Thornton has a knack for driving us both i

“Still.”

I took the beer from him and took an equally long drink. I handed it back and hugged him. “It’s okay.”

He grunted, but hugged me back.

“I went to see Olga again today.”

“Olga?”

“Olaf’s sister,” I reminded him.

“Right. The mortician.”

“Yes,” I said. “I saw her work on a body today.”

“Really?”

I pressed my ear to his chest and listed to his heart thump. “Really.”

“And did she make that poor person look like a clown? Maybe that’s what she specializes in.”

I smiled and shook my head. “You know, I wasn’t sure what to expect. I didn’t even want to stay in the room while she worked. But…she was like a magician.”

“Yeah?” Jake’s voice mirrored the surprise I’d felt while watching her.

I nodded. “She was so…careful with this woman. So tender and loving. Like she really cared, you know? It was one of the nicest things I’ve ever seen.”

“Nice, huh?” Jake digested this for a minute. “But still a little creepy?”

“A little,” I admitted.

His free hand rubbed my back. “And what did Olga the mortician have to say?”

I pressed into him and arched my back, trying to maneuver his hand where I wanted it to be. “Well, nothing new really. But I think I’ve been going about this all wrong.”

“What is all this and what was wrong?”

I pulled away so I could see him. “All this is Olaf. And I was looking at it from the wrong angle.”

He smiled. “Do tell, Sherlock.”

I swatted at his chest. “Stop. I mean I think I’ve been focusing on the wrong thing.”

“I’m still not following because I don’t think this is the part where you tell me I was right for asking you to not play private investigator.”

“I’ve been focusing on who killed Olaf,” I said. I opened the freezer door and dug around for a bag of mixed vegetables. I found it and took it over to the counter and cut through the plastic with a pair of kitchen shears. “What I should be focusing on is who would want to make it look like I was the one who did it.”

“Okay,” he said. “But I didn’t know you had an archenemy.”

“I don’t.” I dumped the vegetables into a small glass bowl and carried it over to the microwave. “At least I don’t think I do.”

Jake raised his eyebrows. “Be weird if you find out you do.”

“I didn’t know Olaf well,” I said, ignoring him. “So trying to figure out who might have wanted to hurt him is next to impossible. But I could easily figure out who might want to cause me trouble. Or at least think about reasons people might be upset enough with me to make me look bad.”

He set his beer down and eyed me. “Okay. So like who?”

I tapped the number pad on the microwave and pressed the start button. “I honestly have no clue.”

“Mom!” It was Will yelling from upstairs. “Is dinner almost ready?”

“Five minutes,” I called back. I turned to look at the casserole cooling on the stove. It was a simple pasta bake, penne noodles and sauce and a variety of cheeses and spices mixed together. Something Will would actually eat.

Jake spoke again. “Or maybe you were just an easy target.”

I touched the sides of the casserole dish, testing it. The ceramic had cooled a little so I grabbed the handles and quickly carried it to the table. Jake was ready with a hot pad and slid it underneath. “What do you mean?”

“Well, it seems as if everyone in town knew about your date with Olaf,” he said. “Except me, of course.”

I frowned at him.

“So let’s say whoever killed Olaf knew about that date,” Jake explained. “And they wanted to make it look like someone else killed him. If they knew you had a connection to him, that would’ve made you a good cover.”