“Nothing!”

“But I heard . . .” I paused, remembering what Zeke had said. “Someone in town told me that Junior told Tom to keep his hands off you.”

She frowned and shook her head. “Where do people get that garbage? That never happened. The fight was not about me at all. Look, I can’t do this right now. I have got to go. Move it or lose it, lady!” She got in her car, slammed the door, and gunned the motor. When I hustled to pull out, she screeched down the drive, backing up as skillfully as a NASCAR driver, and took off out of town, perhaps toward the bar at Ridley Ridge to work.

I decided to check on Lizzie, but when I went up to the door, I could see her sitting on the sofa with her grandmother, who had her arms around her grandchild. It was a complicated situation, and I didn’t think I could help, at least not today.

Instead, I headed back into the heart of Autumn Vale and Crazy Lady Antiques, parking along the side street that intersected with Abenaki behind a dirt bike that was taking up an on-street parking spot. Janice was in her shop and answered the door when I knocked. I told her my need for serving coffee to the masses, and she located a big box of oddly assorted mugs, most with funny and/or inappropriate sayings, and I carried them outside and around to the side street, with her following me. She threw in a box of odd plates and serving pieces she obviously wanted to get rid of. I asked, “You knew the Turners, right?”

“Of course.”

“Did Tom ever get married?”

“Nope. That boy could never settle on one girl. My Jackson is about the same age—Jack moved to New York for school and never came back—and he said that Tom was serious about some girl in high school, but she broke up with him and broke his heart.”

Was that Emerald, I wondered? “What do you know about Junior Bradley?”

“Never trusted that boy. He cheated my boy Booker out of some money once.” She cocked her head as I shoved the box of mugs in the backseat of the car, and turned to take the box of serving pieces from her. “Are you trying to figure out poor Tom’s murder?” she asked. “Better leave that up to the cops.”

I straightened. “It happened right outside my door, Janice. I’m unnerved. I want it solved. Is that so strange?” I wasn’t about to talk about the dead stranger in the woods, not before we knew who it was.

“Virgil Grace is a good investigator, Merry. Leave it alone.”

“I would think you would subscribe to that old adage, Janice, that no woman who ever got anything done did so by listening to people telling her not to do things.”

She chuckled and patted my shoulder. “But in this case, there’s danger afoot. And you’ve got enough to do sorting out your family estate without getting involved in murder.”

It was good advice that I wouldn’t be taking. The bakery was still open, so I stopped in and bought up her stock of end-of-the-day rolls and sweets. I don’t know why I was bulking up my store of coffee mugs and treats as if I expected a horde, but from the number of cars that had been at the castle when I left, I wanted to be prepared. Anything I didn’t use I could toss in the commercial freezer.

I saw through Binny’s sullen facade now that we were friends, and I was dreadfully worried about the body in the woods. Odds were it was her father, and who would break the news if it was? I’d have to be there for her, if it proved to be true. Losing her brother had been tough, but if the body in the woods was Rusty, it was going to be doubly hard on her. On the other hand, she now had a niece she had not known about before. But none of that news was the kind of thing I could pass on at the moment, so I kept my mouth shut.

I pondered the whole mess as I drove back to the castle. Should I be leaving well enough alone, as Janice suggested? Virgil Grace was investigating Tom’s murder, and he knew the town and its people better than I, but I couldn’t just forget about it. As I had said to Janice, it happened right outside of my door, and the killer was still out there.

When I returned, the investigation was in full swing, with a state police command center vehicle now parked in my weedy drive. The clouds had cleared enough that a ray of sunlight peeped through. I called McGill over to collect the box of mugs, and commandeered Shilo to help with the bags of treats. I carried the smaller box of plates and serving pieces; together, we hauled them to the kitchen, and Shilo and I washed and dried all the dusty mugs, setting them out on trays on the long kitchen table.

The afternoon sun was lowering in the sky by the time we were done, and I strolled over to where Virgil was talking seriously with a woman in state police khakis. When she cast a glance at me and strode away, I approached the sheriff. He looked worried and tired and none too pleased to see me. Couldn’t blame him. On the other hand, it wasn’t my fault the body was in my woods.

“We’ve made a big urn of coffee, and I have some muffins and other things for folks to eat. If you would like to spread the word, everyone is welcome.”

He eyed me and nodded. “Okay. That’s real nice of you.”

“But?”

“Look, I know you’ve been asking questions in town. Stop. Now.”

I watched his eyes, trying to decide what to say. “Maybe you’ll answer a couple of questions for me; then I won’t have to ask other people.”

He sighed and looked skyward. I’d swear there was a hint of a smile on his lips. He looked down at me, his expression softening. “You can ask, anyway.”

Which of all the jumbled thoughts and questions in my head were most important? Maybe if I was a real investigator, those things would fall into order. First things first. I took a deep breath. “Is that body in the tent Rusty Turner?”

“It’s male, that’s about all we know.”

“So it’s possible. Is there anyone else local it could be?”

“No one has been reported missing.”

“Oh.” But I squinted up at him, realizing he hadn’t really answered my question and wasn’t going to. The state police female deputy strolled toward us. Darn. I had a lot more questions.

“Sheriff Grace, we need you for a few minutes,” she said.

“I had a couple of more questions,” I said. “Can we talk later?”

He nodded, then walked away with the deputy.

McGill knew all of the Autumn Vale deputies and even some of the state police officers, and he was introducing Shilo around to them. I should probably join them, I thought, but remembered I had not yet checked off one more thing on my list. I went inside, grabbed the cordless phone, and curled up in one of the cozy chairs Shilo and I had hauled in to the kitchen by the fireplace. I dialed a number from memory, a sudden, desperate need to hear one voice making my movements hasty.

“Hello?” came that familiar, dear, warm voice on the phone.

I burst into tears.

Chapter Twenty

“WHO IS THIS? What’s wrong?”

I hadn’t expected to react like I did, and I could hear the panic in my dear friend’s voice. “Pish, it’s all right, it’s me!” I burbled, my tone thick and strange.

“Who . . . Merry? Is that you?”

“Yes!”

“Are you okay? Where are you? I’ve been trying to call you for a week! The stupid phone company keeps saying your line is disconnected. Then I tried your cell phone, but it kept going to voice mail or saying you were unavailable. I tried calling Shilo, but she’s gone, too. I thought an alien had kidnapped you both. Or one of her gypsy relatives. Are you okay, sweetie?”