“You, being a vegetarian, would be in heaven in Callen. You can go right to the farms and buy whatever is in that week. There are also several dairy farms, a few that raise organic meats, and, of course, the mushroom farms. And the vineyards. There are at least half a dozen within twenty miles of our farm.”

“It all sounds so… rural.”

Lorna laughed.

“So tell me what the police and the FBI are doing to find this killer who’s on the loose.”

“For one thing, no one knows if the killer is still in the area. There haven’t been any recent victims found-at least none that we know of. They’re still trying to identify the victims found this past week. Mitch-Mitch Peyton, he’s the FBI agent assigned to the case-is working on that.” Lorna paused, then asked, “Did I tell you I hired a private investigator to help determine if Billie Eagan killed her son?”

Bonnie placed her fork on the side of her plate, then looked up. “Why, no, you hadn’t mentioned that. How do you know Billie Eagan? And where did you find a private investigator?”

Lorna related the entire story. When she concluded, Bonnie shook her head and said, “And here I thought you were languishing down there in Nowheresville, and instead, you’re cavorting with possible murderers, FBI agents, an internationally known true crime writer, and a private eye.”

Bonnie paused, then asked, “Is he cute?”

“Is who cute?”

“The PI.”

“Very. Tall, blond, built. Drives a little sports car.”

“You’re making this up.”

Lorna laughed. “No, actually, I’m not.”

“Well, I suppose we might as well party tonight, because with all that going on in Bumfuck, I don’t see you hurrying to move back to Woodboro anytime soon.”

“I’ll be back. I just need to resolve a few things.”

“A few things like multiple murders and the sale of a very large property.” Bonnie shook her head. “Girl, we won’t be seeing you for another six months. Fortunately, you can take your business with you. All the joys of self-employment, and all the excitement of a juicy murder investigation and a hunky PI. Some girls have all the luck.”

“Hey, you’re welcome to come on out and join in the fun.”

“Well, if the case against Billie Eagan starts moving into dangerous waters, and you need a top-notch criminal defense lawyer, you know where to find me.” Bonnie tapped Lorna on the arm. “Scout around for another hunky PI and we’ll talk reduced fee.”

“Oh, right. I forgot how much trouble you have finding male companionship,” Lorna deadpanned. Bonnie’s great looks and personality, combined with her success, ensured she never had to be alone on a Saturday night unless she chose to be.

“There are lots of men around, but no one all that interesting. Most nights I’d rather be working.” She resumed eating. “At least with a criminal case, you can be assured that some of the reading will be good. As a matter of fact, a few of the statements I’ve read lately rival some of the best fiction on the market.”

“You need a vacation, Bonnie.”

“I just had a vacation.”

“You need another one,” Lorna told her. “Why not come for a visit sometime soon. Stay Friday through Sunday.”

“You’re planning on staying there, aren’t you?” Bonnie asked over the rim of her glass.

“For a while.”

“I bet you don’t come back.”

“I’ll be back. I just have to take care of some business there. It might take awhile, but I’ll be back.”

Bonnie took a twenty-dollar bill from her wallet and laid it on the table.

“Twenty says you stay in Bumfuck.”

Lorna matched the bill.

“My twenty says you’re wrong.”

Bonnie grinned. “You know, I never bet on anything less than a sure thing, Ms. Stiles. I say a year from now, we’ll be sending your mail to the farm.”

“The only way I see that happening is if they’re still digging up bodies. And if that’s the case, you can pretty much bank that twenty, because I’ll never be able to sell the place.”

“Maybe not such a bad idea, if you get to keep the PI.”

“Ha. Fat chance.” Lorna shook her head. “I don’t think I’m his type.”

“What do you think is his type?”

“The hot convertible sports car type,” Lorna told her. “Like you. You’re more his type. Sophisticated. Accomplished. Gorgeous.”

“Oh, please. Sophistication is a state of mind, and who needs it, really? And may I remind you which of us started a successful business on her own? How much more accomplished do you need to be?” Bonnie waved off Lorna’s attempt at protest. “And as far as looks are concerned, well, let’s put it this way: Jack always brags he’s never dated less than a ‘ten.’ What’s that tell you?”

“It tells me that my taste in men had dropped to a disturbing all-time low two years ago.” Lorna grimaced. “It also tells me I’m better off concentrating on work than on my social life, if that’s the best Woodboro has to offer.”

“Well, you can work wherever you are, and right now, the farm seems like the place to be. Frankly, I don’t know about you, but I always wanted to be Nancy Drew. You know, solve the mystery. Catch the bad guy. Adventure. Intrigue.” Bonnie sighed. “If I were you, I’d be in no hurry to come back here and leave that all behind.”

“I did want to be Nancy Drew,” Lorna admitted.

“Well, here’s your chance, if only for a little while. Besides, you never know what other secrets are still hidden on that farm of yours.”

“Is this powwow invitation only, or can anyone sit in?” Lorna asked from the doorway of her dining room. Mitch, Regan, and T.J. were seated around the table, obviously in the midst of a discussion.

“Hey, it’s your table.” Mitch waved her in.

T.J. pulled out the chair next to his, and she draped the strap of her shoulder bag over it.

“Sorry I didn’t make it back last night,” Lorna said to Regan. “I had dinner with a friend, and by the time we were finished…”

“No apology necessary. I told you when you called that I didn’t mind, and I thought you should stay there. A five-hour drive after a night out would have been too much. And besides,” Regan smiled, “you needed a night out to have fun. Things have been too intense around here practically since the day you arrived. I didn’t mind staying here by myself. And I wasn’t really alone, you know.”

Lorna glanced sideways at Mitch, wondering if perhaps he’d kept Regan company while Lorna was in Woodboro. It was obvious there was something between them.

Regan caught the quick glimpse and sidestepped it. “Your Uncle Will.”

“I hope he behaved himself.”

“He was a perfect gentleman,” Regan assured her.

“Uncle Will is the ghost?” T.J. looked from one woman to the other.

Lorna nodded. “Right.”

“And you saw him?” he asked Regan.

She shook her head. “No. I only heard him.”

“What did you hear? What did it sound like?” Mitch asked.

“It sounded like someone was pounding first on the wall, then the window, in the back bedroom.”

“Are you sure someone wasn’t pounding on the windows?” Mitch rose, alarmed. “Jesus, Regan, they’ve been digging up bodies right and left around here. And you hear someone pounding at night and you think it’s a ghost? You think this is Great Adventure?”

“I know when someone is trying to break in, Mitch.” Regan’s eyes narrowed. “I can tell the difference.”

“Let’s go take a look.” Mitch pushed back his chair. “Which bedroom is it?”

“The last one at the end of the hall on the right,” Lorna told him, amused.

“You coming, PI?” Mitch called over his shoulder to T.J.

“Sure. Why not?” T.J. followed him out the door and up the steps.

“I don’t believe in ghosts, Regan,” Mitch called down from the second floor, his footsteps echoing overhead.

“You haven’t met my uncle Will,” Lorna called back.

There was the sound of a window banging closed several times. A few minutes later, the two men returned.