“I’ll see her at lunchtime. What do you want me to tell her?”

“This morning I came into the office early. We’re talking before six.”

“How much before six?”

“It wasn’t quite light.”

“You are dedicated.”

“Just part of the job. Anyway, I saw this funny little man with a—”

“Big black trash bag.”

“Yes,” Karen said, and laughed. “Don’t tell me you’ve seen him, too.”

“Yes.”

“He seemed to be stealing the flowers from the hanging baskets.”

“He was. Someone else saw him, too, and I’ve already confronted him about it.”

“Oh, good. Antonio told me Angelica was almost apoplectic about the flowers going missing.”

That sounded like a good description. “The man has agreed to help put back the silk flowers. Now I just have to hope when I tell Angelica about it, she doesn’t go apoplectic once again.”

Karen laughed. “Okay, but if she wants to talk, I’ll be here ’til at least six.”

“A twelve-hour day?” Tricia asked.

“Don’t feel sorry for me—I thrive on being busy.”

“Thanks for helping me with these papers. You’re an angel.”

Karen laughed. “Just trying to earn my wings.”

“See you soon,” Tricia said, and left the office, but instead of turning left, she turned right and hoped she’d find Grant Baker behind his desk at the Stoneham Police Station. She had a lot to tell him.

TWENTY-TWO

No doubt about it, Polly Burgess did not like Tricia and didn’t keep it a secret. As far as Tricia could remember, she had done nothing to alienate the older woman, who acted as receptionist and dispatcher for the Stoneham Police Department. Polly was especially protective of Chief Baker’s time and seemed to consider all of Tricia’s visits to be frivolous, even when she had no clue as to the nature of the call. Was Polly angry because she thought that Tricia had broken Baker’s heart? Tricia couldn’t think of any other reason for the woman’s animosity, however mistaken.

As usual, she told Tricia to sit and wait in the small, seedy waiting room, but Tricia didn’t have time for Polly’s antics that morning. Instead, Tricia pulled out her cell phone and called Baker’s personal number.

“Baker here.”

“Tricia here. I’m standing in your waiting room.”

“Why didn’t you come right in?”

“Your gatekeeper,” she said simply.

She heard a click, and a few seconds later the door to the inner sanctum opened. “Come on in,” he called.

Tricia didn’t say a word as she exited the waiting room, but she could feel Polly’s angry glare on her back as she sailed through the doorway.

Baker resumed his seat, and Tricia shut the door before taking one of his guest chairs.

“You’ve been snooping around again,” he said with an edge to his voice.

“I wouldn’t call it that. I was talking to Michele Fowler this morning.”

“I got a full report about what happened last night. Is she okay?”

“A little shaken up, but she’ll bounce back. She believes she was attacked because of the attention the ghost walks will bring to the Stoneham Rural Cemetery.”

“She’s not the only one,” Baker muttered, “but so far we haven’t got a tangible connection.”

“I may have the answer in this envelope.”

He held out his hand and she passed it to him. “Why don’t you tell me your theory.”

Tricia sighed. At least he hadn’t called it a harebrained theory. While she spoke, he examined the papers. When she stopped talking, he stared at the papers spread out before him on his desk and frowned.

“So, what do you think?” Tricia asked, fearing he was about to blow off her suggestion to look into the situation.

“Didn’t I ask you not to keep poking around in this situation?”

“You did ask me to tell you my theory,” she reminded him.

“If what you’re proposing is true, you’ve not only put yourself in danger, but Karen Johnson, too.”

“Nobody knows what we talked about.”

“But someone might make an educated guess.”

“I guess that means you think my theory is credible.”

He shrugged. He had no intention of agreeing with her.

“Will you at least check into it?” she pressed.

“On Monday, I’ll talk to someone at the county clerk’s office to see if there’s anything about a cemetery on the deed.”

“And if there isn’t?”

“We’d have to see if we can find other records that support the existence of the cemetery.”

“And they’d be at the Historical Society. With Pete dead and Janet out of commission for the foreseeable future, I’m not sure there’s anyone there who could help you with that.”

“Let’s take this one step at a time.”

“It could take days, maybe weeks, before you could come up with additional proof. What if the sale of the land goes through before you can prove anything?”

“The wheels of justice don’t always turn quickly,” Baker said. His indifference was beginning to bug her. How could he still wonder why they hadn’t made it as a couple? “In the meantime, I’m taking custody of these pages.”

“You can’t have them. I promised I’d return them to the Historical Society today.”

“I’ll call and explain the situation,” Baker said. “In the meantime, I don’t want you to talk about this—not even to Angelica.”

“Why?”

“Because the fewer people who know about it, the better—for everyone’s safety.”

“Do you know when Bob is supposed to go up before the judge on his past indiscretions?”

“Not offhand, but I can look into it.”

“I hope you will. If he is responsible for murder and attempted murder, we need to get him behind bars as soon as possible.”

“Tricia, what you’ve given me might prove fraud, but that’s a long way from pinning a murder charge on the man.”

Tricia shook her head in frustration. “I can’t help but feel an urgency about this. I’m afraid of the man, and he’s been hounding me to buy his building. What do I do in the meantime?”

“You could file for a restraining order.”

“Sure, and how many women have died at the hands of the men that have been served those papers? Far, far too many.” She stood. “Thanks for all your help.”

“Sarcasm, Tricia? It doesn’t suit you.”

“Your lack of enthusiasm to track down a killer doesn’t suit your job description, either.” She headed for the door but paused, turning back to face Baker once more. “By the way, Boris Koslov set a camera up to try to catch the person stealing the flowers. Unfortunately, you can’t tell from the video who it was. He was wearing a hoodie, but I did dig up two eyewitnesses who identified the man. I confronted him,” she said defiantly. “Well, I and your Officer Hanson, and he’s going to apologize and help restore the silk flowers to the baskets. No other law enforcement intervention is necessary. I thought you should know—not that you care.”

Without another word, she turned and left his office without looking back.

Polly’s sharp gaze seemed to rake through Tricia as she left the building. Tricia hadn’t been exaggerating when she’d told Baker she was afraid of Bob. His aggression had been building to a higher pitch each time he’d confronted her, and it was becoming more difficult to avoid him.

•   •   •

Tricia returned to the Chamber office, then went upstairs to shower and change clothes. Twenty minutes later, she was back at her desk.

“I took a message for you,” Mariana said, handing her a Post-it note as she passed. “You’re insurance agent called.”

“Is it good news?” she asked hopefully.

“He didn’t say, just that you should call him.”

Tricia sat down and found her hands were trembling as she punched in the number on her desk phone. It rang twice before being picked up.

“John Martin.”

“John, it’s Tricia Miles. Do you always work on Saturday?”