“You really are sorry, aren’t you? No. We both have a case to work and you’ve already spent most of the day on a wild-goose chase.”

“You can’t investigate without wheels, Savannah, and the nearest car rental is in Vancouver. I checked when mine was acting up.”

“All right then. Pick me up at my motel at five-thirty. We’ll grab the tire, then I’ll take you out. I promise to feed you only dinner—no more false leads.” I glanced out the window. “Oh, can you drop me off here? I’ve got some legwork to do.”

He parked on Main Street. “So, are you going to tell me what happened with the bike?”

“Tire blew.”

“I saw that. If there was an ongoing problem with it, though, you would have noticed. And if you’d run over something, you would have stopped.”

I told him what happened. When he finished cursing out Cody, I said, “I could be wrong. Maybe I did just run over a nail or something.”

“And he just happened to drive past slowly to admire the scenery?”

“I’m trying not to be paranoid.”

“I’d say you have a right to be. You—” He noticed the hardware store clerk staring at us through the store window.

“We look like we’re on a stakeout,” I said. “We’re making the townies nervous.”

He opened the door. We got out and stood on the sidewalk.

“You need to be careful, Savannah.”

“Um, no, I need to teach this control-freak scumbag that he can’t mess with me.”

Michael’s mouth opened, then closed.

“What?” I said.

“I’m just asking you not to egg him on. You did the right thing today, not confronting him.”

“I’m glad you approve.”

He leaned against his car. “Okay, I’ve overstepped, obviously. I should mind my own business. Let you goad him into another strike.”

“What better way to catch him if he’s the killer?”

“You’re right.” His gaze frosted over, and his words were sharp. “Go right ahead. See if he’ll go after you again. Make sure he does some damage, too—it’s far more convincing if we have hospital records. Better yet, morgue records.”

“I’m not stupid—”

“No, but maybe you are just a little bit reckless.”

I shook my head.

“What?” he said.

“You sound like a guy I know.”

“Well, he’s a smart guy, then, and maybe you should listen. Cody Radu could have killed you out there. I’m not saying to back down. Stand firm, just don’t goad him.”

Adam would tell me the same thing—he was always the last person to stop me from standing up for myself, but the first to tear a strip off me when I got reckless.

“All right,” I said. “I should ease off him for awhile anyway. I’m not getting anywhere.”

“I’ve got my own appointment with him tomorrow morning. I’ll give him a shake. See if anything comes loose. Maybe some of those pearly whites, if we’re lucky.”

I hesitated. The problem with my job is that the two priorities-solving the case and uncovering any supernatural involvement—sometimes clashed. I wanted to find Claire’s killer. Yet I needed to keep Michael from finding any supernatural angles. I weighed the threat potential of what I was about to say and decided to go for it.

“I have a lead that might link Claire and Cody,” I offered.

“What?”

“Legit this time. I won’t play you anymore. I don’t want to tip him off until I have details, but there’s a good chance he had a conversation with Claire the day before she died. Also, he’s definitely up to something illegal.” I told him about the conversation I’d overheard with his lawyer friend. “A delivery. That’s all I know.”

“I can use that. Thanks. A lot.” He stepped closer, gaze holding mine. “Really, I appreciate—”

“Are you guys done arguing?” a voice asked.

We looked over to see Kayla. Michael stepped back.

“Hey,” I said.

“I saw you arguing earlier and I didn’t want to get in the way.”

“We weren’t arguing,” Michael said. “Just debating strategy.”

She looked disappointed.

“I know we met, Kayla, but not officially.” Michael held out his hand. “Michael Kennedy, I’m Claire’s brother and I’m—”

“A police detective. I’ve heard.” She lifted her chin, as if to say others might be impressed by his credentials, but she wasn’t.

“I’m just heading over to see your grandma,” Michael said. “Will I see you there?”

“Probably not.” She turned to me. “Are you busy? I need to talk to you.” A look Michael’s way. “It’s private.”

“Okay,” he said. Then to me, “Pick you up at five thirty?”

I nodded. Kayla waited until he was gone, then turned, expression unreadable.

“You’re going out with him?” she said.

“A good private investigator uses every method at her disposal.” I winked as the BMW roared from the curb. “Plus he’s cute and drives a really hot car.”

She rolled her eyes so high they threatened to disappear.

“Okay,” I said. “You wanted to talk. I heard this town has ice cream—”

“Later. Did you see Dorothy?”

“She wouldn’t answer the door.”

“I’ll get you in. Come on.”

I knocked. When no one answered, Kayla opened the door.

“Hey, Dorothy! It’s me. Aunt Rose sent some of that peppermint tea you like.”

A wizened old woman with fire-engine-red hair peeked around the corner. Spotting me, she scowled. “Kayla Thompson, you’re a lying little—”

Kayla held up a bag. “Here’s the tea. Oh, and this is Savannah Levine. She’s investigating my mom’s murder. I told her you saw Cody and Claire arguing, but she needs to hear it from you.”

Kayla marched past her into the kitchen. “I’ll make your tea while you tell her.”

Dorothy followed. “I’m not telling her anything, Miss Kayla. I don’t know what you heard—”

“You saw Claire and Cody arguing behind the hardware store.”

“Who told you—?”

“You did. I heard you at Aunt Rose’s.”

“So you were eavesdropping.”

“Yep.” She filled the kettle.

Dorothy turned to me. “Kayla heard wrong. I never saw—”

“Yes, you did.” Kayla plunked the kettle on the stove, flicked the burner, then parked herself on a kitchen chair. “You don’t want to tell Chief Bruyn because you’re still mad at him for egging your house when he was twelve.”

“And thirteen. And fourteen.”

“So you don’t want to help him. That’s okay. You’re telling Savannah. You don’t have anything against her, do you?”

Dorothy’s look said just give her time and she’d find something.

“If she solves the case, it’ll make Chief Bruyn look bad,” Kayla pointed out.

Dorothy’s eyes glittered, but after a moment, she shook her head. “I don’t want to get involved.”

“That’s up to you,” Kayla said. “Just as long as you don’t mind having a killer in your town. One who might have seen you spying on him that day.”

Dorothy scowled at her, then finally waved me to a chair.

She settled across the table, looked me over again, then said, “It was the day before that girl died.”

Dorothy had been in the hardware store, trying to return a frying pan she’d left on the stove too long. Cody had been in line behind her, getting impatient as she argued with the clerk, which I’m sure only made Dorothy all the more determined not to step aside.

That’s when Claire came in. She’d walked past Cody and smiled.

“The hussy,” Dorothy sniffed. “Don’t you ever behave like that, Kayla. That’s how your mom got into trouble.”

“If my mom hadn’t gotten into trouble, I wouldn’t be here,” Kayla said.

Dorothy harrumphed and resumed her story. Claire had smiled at Cody. Then she’d walked out the back door, tossing another smile over her shoulder. Cody—“being a man, and you know how men are”—forgot whatever he’d been there to buy and followed Claire out.

That’s when the clerk gave up and agreed to exchange Dorothy’s frying pan, so she didn’t notice what was transpiring outside until she was about to leave, and caught a glimpse of Cody and Claire out the back door.