Angelica hit the fast-forward button again. Nothing happened.

Nothing happened.

Nothing happened.

And then a figure darted into the frame and was almost instantly gone.

“Rewind, rewind!” Tricia called frantically.

Angelica hit the rewind button and then pressed play. Once again the screen was filled with the image of the empty sidewalk, then someone dressed in dark clothes with a hoodie stepped out of the shadows with a long-handled grabber, the kind used by the infirm who could no longer bend to pick up objects, and plucked the silk flowers from the basket, stuffing them into a dark plastic bag, then quickly moved on.

“So much for the guy being tall. Do you recognize him?” Angelica asked.

“Is it a man?” Tricia asked, not quite sure.

Angelica hit rewind, and they watched the video again. And again. And again.

“I didn’t say anything earlier, but the night before Michele was attacked, I felt like someone was watching as I walked back to the Chamber office. When I got inside, I hurried to look out the front window and saw someone dressed like the person in the video and carrying a big black plastic bag.”

“But you didn’t recognize him?” Angelica pressed.

Tricia shook her head.

Angelica frowned, staring at the still image on the TV screen. “I was so sure we were going to recognize who it was so we could have him arrested.”

“You can show the video to Chief Baker, but I don’t know what he’s going to be able to do.”

Angelica shook her head. “I’m sure I’ve seen that person before.”

“Ange, it could be anyone!” Tricia said, but Angelica was still shaking her head.

“I’m going to keep watching this until I figure out who it is.”

“Well, I think I know who it isn’t,” Tricia said, and took another sip of coffee.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s not the guy who attacked Michele. It seemed like that person was a lot bigger in stature. I know I only saw a glimpse of him, but the person in the video seems a lot shorter and thinner.”

“Why would anyone think the two were the same?”

Tricia shrugged. “Maybe because we seem to have a crime wave going on. I know I’d much rather have one villain than two menacing the village.”

“I’d rather have no villains menacing the village.”

Tricia drained her cup and stood. “I’ve got to get moving. I still have to do my morning walk.”

“Boring!” Angelica said. “Thanks to Sarge needing to go out every few hours, I get my exercise running up and down three flights of stairs all day. I’ve lost ten pounds since I got the little guy.”

Sarge barked. He knew a compliment when he heard it.

“Are you coming for supper tonight?” Angelica asked.

“Sure. And I’ll probably see you at Booked for Lunch, too.”

“Keep thinking about our flower filcher, will you please?”

“I will,” Tricia promised, gave her sister a brief hug, and headed for the door. Sarge accompanied her and barked when she didn’t grab his leash. “Sorry, little buddy, but you can’t come with me.”

Sarge barked again, then cocked his head and looked at her with sad eyes. He whimpered, just to make her feel even more guilty.

“Oh, all right,” Tricia grumbled. “Ange!” she called. “I’m taking Sarge.”

“Thanks!” Angelica called back.

Tricia reached for the leash and Sarge barked excitedly, running around in circles. “Calm down! You’d think you’d never been on a walk with me before.” She clipped the leash to Sarge’s collar, grabbed a plastic bag from the stash Angelica kept by the door, and picked him up, tucking him under her arm like a football. “Come on.”

Once outside the Cookery, Tricia set Sarge down, and he immediately set off, trotting off toward the park. When he came to the corner, he sat down, waiting for permission to cross.

“We’re not going north,” Tricia told him and gave the leash a slight tug. “We’re going west. This is my walk, not yours.”

Sarge looked up at her and blinked, but seemed game to try a new routine.

Vehicular traffic on Stoneham’s side streets was practically nonexistent on that Saturday morning. They crossed Main Street and started down Locust Street at a brisk pace.

Instead of thinking about the petal pincher as Angelica had suggested, Tricia tried to remember what she could about the figure she’d seen fleeing the municipal parking lot after Michele’s attack. The man—she felt sure it was a man—had been stocky but had had no trouble hurdling over the low metal barrier that surrounded the lot and then taking off at a run. Still, he hadn’t had to run far before he was swallowed by darkness. That meant the guy didn’t have to be all that athletic. They hadn’t run after him, so he could have pulled off his ski mask and just walked away without garnering any attention. The police had searched the area, but as far as Tricia knew, they hadn’t found anything of note.

Tricia turned down Pine Avenue. Mariana lived in the white house with the navy trim. Her landscaping was primarily low bushes flanking the front steps, but four baskets of purple and white petunias hung from the soffit on lengths of chain. They were pretty, with their blooms still intact, unlike the hanging baskets on Main Street. It seemed to prove the theory that the petal pincher had it in for the merchants on Main Street and not a hatred of flowers in general. Still, of the two menaces, Tricia would rather the village had to deal with petty vandalism than murder and attempted murder.

Tricia made it to the end of the block and turned right. She’d had her route figured out only days after the fire and had worn a pedometer for a few weeks until she’d figured out the mileage she wanted to walk per day. Sarge trotted along beside her as happy as only a dog could be. They turned onto Oak Street, where her friend Deborah Black had lived, and where Frannie Armstrong still lived.

They carried on to the corner and turned left up Locust once again. Tricia’s stomach tightened as she approached the next cross street, where Bob Kelly lived. She decided to skip walking down that road and walked up to the next block. She didn’t have the patience to deal with him that morning.

Bob, Bob, Bob.

Tricia had never liked the man, despite his slight resemblance to Christopher. He was shorter, heavier set, but had the same green eyes that she always found so attractive in men. Still, there was something about him that had set off—well, alarm bells was really too strong a description, but she’d disliked him at first sight. The term lounge lizard came to mind whenever she thought about him or had to deal with him. That Angelica had found him fascinating, and then had become his lover, had irritated Tricia to no end. But as Tricia now knew, Angelica had a tendency to look for the good in people, even if she made the rest of the world think her just a selfish, vain woman. The fact that her fourth marriage had ended just before she’d met Bob had made her a prime target for a rebound romance.

Bob had done some very dishonorable things during the past that Tricia had not told Angelica about, far more than just the pumpkin-smashing incident. After they’d broken up, he’d rigged a Chamber contest with the prize of a night at a romantic bed-and-breakfast, bestowing it upon Angelica in hopes of a reconciliation. That she chose Tricia to accompany her had made him angry, and he’d begged her not to tell Angelica. There were other such incidences. In fact, when she thought about it, Bob wasn’t at all honorable, and thankfully Angelica had finally acknowledged it—but only after he’d cheated on her.

How low was the man willing to stoop?

Tricia found herself walking slower.

Murder?

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said aloud, and looked down at Sarge, who looked back up at her. “I was talking to myself,” she said, embarrassed. But again her stomach seemed to quiver.