The interview must have been live. The reporter, Paula Morgan, was shivering in the cold morning air while interviewing Mr. Jerk, AKA Craig Renfield. He, in turn, couldn’t seem to focus on anything above her neck. “I came home from watching the CU game at a buddy’s house and found the door wide open, and she was laying in the kitchen,” he said without taking his eyes from Paula’s cleavage.

Paula was too focused on the camera to notice where Craig was looking. “Was it a burglary gone bad?”

“How would I know?” He seemed annoyed, having his concentration interrupted. “I ain’t no psychic.”

Paula rolled her eyes for the camera. “Well, is anything missing?”

“She had a signed copy of Tom Sawyer she found at a garage sale last week I can’t find nowhere. She was looking it up on the Internet to see what it was worth when I left her.”

“That must be worth thousands?” Paula asked.

“Yeah, but that’s all smoke. I know who did it, and it wasn’t for no book.”

Paula’s eyes lit up. “Oh?”

“It’s those old bitties we saw at a book-signing yesterday. One of them pretended to be some kind of Mark Twain expert, so she could find out where we live.”

Paula touched the ear-bud that kept her in contact with her producer. “Thank you, Mr. Renfield. I need to switch back to the studio for more breaking news. This has been Paula Morgan reporting for Channel Three News.”

“Well, at least we know his last name now,” I said, hitting the mute button. Instead of breaking news, they went to a commercial. How putting a man and woman in two separate bathtubs will cure ED I didn’t need to know.

“Did you hear that, Jake? He’s accusing me and Patty of killing her!”

Her raised voice woke Fred, who had slept through the television broadcast. He moved closer to the door while I got up for more coffee.

Bonnie seemed to be preoccupied looking around the room when I refilled her cup. “Have you seen my purse?” she asked.

“On the counter by the fridge,” I answered.

She got up and went over to her purse. “We would never hurt anyone. Why would he say it was us?”

Now Fred wanted out, making me get up again. “Who better to blame than someone with a motive,” I answered while patting my dog on the head before opening the door.

Bonnie stopped fumbling through her purse and looked up at me in horror. “You think I did it, too?” I thought she was going to cry. Julie once said I should duct tape my mouth before speaking, and this time I had to agree.

“Of course not, Bon,” I answered, trying to think of something to stop the tears before they started. “It’s obviously that nasty boyfriend of hers. The way he spoke to her, and the bruise she had on her face at the signing, proves he doesn’t think much of women. He probably lost his temper arguing over something, grabbed the file, and then stabbed her with it. Now he’s trying to make it look like you and Patty did it. You’ve got to admit, the nail file was a brilliant touch.”

“My God, Jake! It’s gone!”

“What’s gone, Bon?”

“My manicure kit. I always keep it on top of my purse where I can get to it. It’s not here, Jake. You don’t suppose…”

I finished for her. “That Craig took it and is framing you? No, he doesn’t strike me as the kind who would plan that far ahead. His kind kills out of rage. I’m sure you misplaced it somewhere.”

She came back to the table and resumed stirring her coffee. “Well, I hope you’re right. My prints are all over the file.”

I hoped I was right too. If it her nail file, she would have the means, as well as motive, to kill Shelia. The only thing missing for a conviction was opportunity, and I wasn’t so sure she didn’t have that too.

CHAPTER TWO

Shelia’s murder all but vanished from the media’s radar; marijuana sales still trumped local news stories, and Shelia was soon forgotten. Nearly a week had passed since Fred and I stopped at Bonnie’s for morning coffee. A contractor I did odd jobs for had called and offered me a few weeks work hanging drywall in a house he was building in Bailey. As much as I hate drywall, it would pay the bills for a while.

It wasn’t until Friday that Fred and I saw Bonnie again. The drywall job was finished for the week, and I had been paid in cash. I stopped off at Beau Jo’s for a large Mountain Pie, with pineapple and pepperoni, after picking up some groceries at Safeway before heading home. It wasn’t my favorite pizza, even Fred wouldn’t eat the pineapple, but I knew Bonnie loved it. We could pick out the sweet fruit and give it to her.

We had just pulled into my driveway when I saw a truck racing down the road. I didn’t think much of it and let Fred out. We were isolated, but not so that we didn’t get the occasional lost driver now and then. I’d never known Fred to chase cars, so I was quite surprised when he ran after the truck, barking. The truck was much faster than Fred, and left him in a cloud of dust. But Fred was smarter. He left the road and ran down the hill, knowing the truck would have to pass by Bonnie’s on the way out. That’s when I noticed my front door wide open.

Whoever had been in there must have heard us coming up the road and got out before we pulled in. I put the pizza and groceries on the ground and ran after Fred. I made it to the lower road just in time to see a beat-up F150 come barreling down on him. It was the sleeveless guy from the book signing. He had no intentions of swerving to miss my dog. Luckily, Fred had no intentions of becoming road kill, and he jumped out of the way a second before the truck could run him over. But it wasn’t in his nature to quit so quickly and he took off after the truck again. This time there were no shortcuts; he gave up the chase in less than twenty yards and came back panting to sit by my side.

I knelt down to hold his head and rub his ears. “It’s okay, boy. You’re lucky you didn’t catch him. Don’t you know you’re no match for a speeding truck?”

“My, God, Jake! What’s going on?” Bonnie was standing on her front deck with a towel wrapped around her head and lipstick smeared on her face. I took one look at Bonnie, and for a moment forgot about Sleeveless, then started laughing.

She looked at me like I’d lost my mind. “What’s so damn funny? That guy could have killed Fred.”

“Sorry, Bon, but I think you better go and finish your makeup.”

She raised a hand to her face and felt her lipstick. “I must look a sight,” she said with a giggle.

“Not if you plan on joining a circus.” Her hand must have slipped when she heard all the commotion. She had a lopsided smile any clown would envy.

Fred might have laughed too if he had a sense of humor; then again, maybe he did because he started barking for no apparent reason. “I need to check on my house, Bon. Why don’t you finish putting on your face and drive on up? I got your favorite pizza from Beau Jo’s. I’ll tell you why Fred was chasing the truck while we eat.” I didn’t wait for her to answer and started up the hill with Fred glued to my heels.

My cabin is built on a walkout foundation on a steep hill. I hadn’t noticed the lower door on the way down, but did coming back. It was on the ground in pieces. Bonnie must not have heard Sleeveless making firewood of my door when she was in the shower. I had installed a reinforced deadbolt that was supposed to prevent this sort of break-in. Evidently, Sleeveless didn’t read the promo for the lock.

Fred waited for me to enter before following. The big sissy wasn’t so brave now that there wasn’t a truck between him and whatever danger lay inside. Of course, there wasn’t any danger once we stepped past the broken door, just a huge mess. The lower level was my office, my sanctuary from the world, where I kept my collection of first editions in built-in bookshelves lining the walls. My prized collection wasn’t on those shelves; it was on the floor. I knew without the help of psychic powers that the copy of Tom Sawyer given to me by Julie would be missing. I didn’t care if it was the key to a lost fortune or not. I had to get the book back. Julie had bought it for me when were strolling along Miner Street in Idaho Springs last year. I asked her to marry me the very next day.