He wondered if either of the girls had turned up. If the investigations had led to any leads. If Meyer in Cameron had been in touch with Chief Daley in Ballard. If they’d traded notes. That’s what he’d do, if it happened in his town.

God forbid, he thought as walked back to his office.

The photo of Mindy Kelleher was still on his computer screen. Pretty girl, he thought as he closed the e-mail. As the image faded away, a solid chill went up his spine. It gave him pause for just a moment. Then he turned off the computer and headed down the hall.

“I’ll be on foot for a while,” Beck told Garland as he passed by and left through the front door.

He walked swiftly to the path that led from the building to Kelly’s Point Road. From there it was a short walk to the center of town. It was a path he’d walked more times than he could count. Today he couldn’t seem to walk fast enough.

Like Hal said, the chief of police should know what was going on, and today was as good a day as any to see what folks were up to, and who was walking the streets of his town.

“So what was the final tally?”

Vanessa Keaton, Beck’s sister, slid into the booth across from her brother, then plunked her large designer handbag on the seat next to her.

“Is that thing alive?” Beck asked.

“Is what thing alive?” Vanessa frowned.

“That…whatever it was you just tossed onto the seat there.” He pretended to crane his neck to see over the table. “’Cause you know, this is a nice restaurant. They don’t allow animals in here.”

“Very funny.” She held up the bag, which was a patchwork leather number trimmed in faux fur. “Isn’t it darling? I get them from a designer in Baltimore. And for your information, it’s fake fur. I wouldn’t sell anything with real fur. And I sold eight of these little babies this weekend. I’m going to have to order more.”

“So I take it your shop is doing well?”

“Please. It’s a boutique.” She fluttered her eyelashes and tossed her long black hair over her shoulders. “And quite the froufrou boutique it is, too.”

“Yeah, froufrou. Whatever,” Beck said and signaled for the waitress.

Vanessa laughed. Beck tried not to.

“So you didn’t answer my question.” She opened her menu and began to scan the specials. “What was the final tally for the weekend?”

“Four fender benders, sixteen parking tickets, three lost kids, six lost parents, one pedestrian knocked down by a bicycle-fortunately, not a bike ridden by one of my officers-three stolen purses, and a couple of lost credit cards.” He sipped the beer he’d ordered before she arrived. “All in all, not so bad, given the size of the crowd we had.”

“How’s the pedestrian?”

“She’s fine.” Beck looked up as Shirley, the waitress, approached. “I’ll have the soft-shells tonight, Shirl.”

“Good choice. They’re perfect.” She made a note on her order pad. “Salad dressing, Chief?”

“Blue cheese.”

“Same for you, Vanessa?” the woman asked.

“Ah, you mean, crustaceans cooked in garlicky butter in their allegedly edible little shells?” She wrinkled her nose. “I think not. I’ll have the flounder special. Balsamic dressing on the greens.”

“You’ll never be mistaken for a native, you keep talking like that,” Beck teased.

“I don’t have a problem with that.” She shook her head firmly. “I never pretended to be a native of the Eastern Shore, bro. And therefore I am exempt from having to eat those floppy little crabs.”

“Those floppy little crabs are damned tasty.”

“I just can’t get past the fact that they’re caught while they’re molting, for Christ’s sake. Scooped up when they’re most vulnerable, sold to the highest bidder, and slapped into a pan of butter and herbs…” She faked a shiver. “Inhuman, I say. Sneaky and underhanded, even.”

“But damned tasty,” Beck repeated.

“So you say.”

“And what was your tally this weekend?” he asked as their salads were served.

“I did so well, Beck.” Vanessa’s eyes shone with pleasure. “My best sales ever. It was just wonderful. All those customers, oohing and aahing over all the pretty things. It was just the way I always dreamed it would be, having my own little shop.”

Beck cleared his throat.

“Boutique, that is,” she corrected herself with a grin. “Lots of customers lined up at the cash register all day long. It was just…perfect.”

“Now, you know that every weekend isn’t likely to be as busy,” he reminded her.

“I know it won’t always be this good,” she said, nodding, “but I think St. Dennis is going to continue to attract crowds, right on through to the fall. And the Chamber of Commerce has all those wonderful plans for Christmas; the brochures were given out all weekend. I was handing them out to the customers and a number of people said they’d be back.”

“I’m just saying take it as it comes, Ness. I don’t want you to be disappointed.”

“I appreciate that, but I think it’s going to be a great season. I think all the advertising has paid off. I saw Jonah on my way over here, and he said his inn is booked straight into September.”

“You’re kidding.”

“No. I’m telling you, St. Dennis is the new hot spot on the Eastern Shore.”

“Swell,” he said, half under his breath.

“It is swell. For us merchants, anyway.” She poked at her salad happily. “For you…well, maybe not so much. Maybe you need to think about hiring a few more officers.”

“There’s nothing in the town budget for that. I’m lucky to have Hal and Phil even part-time this year.”

“Well, with all the extra money the town is going to bring in over the next few months in parking revenue alone, you should be able to get maybe one more cop out of the town council, don’t you think?”

“We’ll see.” He speared a chunk of cucumber. It wasn’t just the salary, he could have told her, it was benefits, uniforms, another car, higher insurance, but Beck was tired from the long weekend and wasn’t up to giving his sister a lesson in municipal finance.

“Anyway, I’m glad you had a great weekend, Ness.”

“I had a super weekend.” She grinned, her eyes sparkling.

“Something else happen?”

“I got asked out to dinner for tomorrow night.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “As in a date.”

“Who?” He frowned. “Who asked you out?”

“Mickey Forbes.”

“Forbes?” Beck’s frown deepened. “He’s married with kids.”

“No, he’s not. They’re getting divorced.” She ignored his disapproval. “Where have you been? She left him months ago.”

“Still…”

Vanessa tossed her hair back, and the image of Colleen Preston flashed through Beck’s mind.

“How well do you know him?”

“Beck.” She put her fork down. “It’s dinner. Dinner. That’s all. What’s the big deal?”

He hesitated, not sure what to say.

“Look, it’s really sweet of you to want to be the big brother. I kinda like it sometimes, especially since I didn’t have that growing up, you know?” She tried to laugh. “And God knows, I could have used some brotherly guidance, back then.”

“ Ness…” His face darkened with regret.

“Hey, not your fault. That wasn’t meant as anything other than a statement of fact.” She reached across the table and patted his hand. “And you’ve more than made up for it this past year. There’s no way I can ever repay you for helping me set up the shop and finding the apartment for me and-”

He waved her words away.

“Just be careful who you go out with, where you go, keep your doors locked, that’s all I’m saying.”

“Do you know something I don’t know?” Her eyes narrowed.

“Little sister, I know lots of things you don’t know.” He tried to interject a little humor into the conversation but it fell flat.

“Admitted, but right now we’re talking about Mickey Forbes. Is there something you know about him that I should know?”