of electrical wire that looks a lot like the wire we saw wrapped around Duane’s neck in his toolbox.”
“That’s interesting,” Harriet said.
“I guess we’ll just have to tell Detective Morse when she calls back,” Mavis said. “Anyone for more tea or coffee before I go upstairs?”
“I’d love to, but I better go check on the Renfros. They’re probably doing better than we are, but I don’t like the idea of leaving them with no way to call for help if they need it. Besides, someone has to make a dent in all the brownies they’ve stockpiled.”
“You have brownies?” Lauren’s voice took on a shrill quality.
“If you behave yourself, I might be persuaded to bring some by tomorrow.”
“Are they the cake kind or the chewy kind?”
“Chewy.”
“You’re killing me.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Tom said. “I better run. Thank you for the coffee, Mavis.”
“You come for coffee anytime,” she answered then turned to Harriet. “I might close my eyes for a few minutes. If I’m not back by the time the rest of the group arrives, would you come wake me?”
“Sure.” Harriet turned to Tom. “I’ll walk you to the door.”
Lauren wrapped the tails of her shirt around Carter and pulled him close to her body again, her long hair forming a curtain around him.
“You really know how to show a guy a good time,” Tom said when they had made their way to the studio door.
“I’m really sorry about all that.”
“Hey.” He put the tips of his fingers under her chin, turning her face toward him. “This isn’t your fault.”
“Sometimes I wonder,” she said. “I mean, Foggy Point was a peaceful place before I moved back. Now all of a sudden there’s a crime wave.”
“But you didn’t kill anyone. As near as I can tell, you didn’t even know these two victims until this week, which is when all the rest of us met them. You can’t possibly believe you have any connection to all of this.”
“No, I know I don’t. It’s just a weird coincidence, but I find it rather creepy.”
“I think you’re thinking about it too much,” Tom said and gently pressed his lips to hers. He pulled back and looked in her face. “You’re not alone here. None of this is your responsibility.”
He pulled her into a gentle embrace, his arms wrapped around her, his chin on the top of her head. She leaned her head on his shoulder. Without conscious thought, her arms went around his waist.
He smelled like freshly cut wood. She breathed deeply.
“You smell good,” she said in a husky voice.
Tom kissed her again, this time longer, deeper. Then, he pulled away, catching her hand in his and holding it.
“If I don’t leave now, I can’t be responsible for what might happen,” he said with a rueful grin. He brought her hand to his mouth, kissed it, and let it go. “See you tomorrow.”
He went out the door.
The ringing phone saved Harriet from having to explain the high color on her cheeks when she came back into the living room. She was pretty sure Lauren knew the score anyway.
“Oh, where to begin,” Harriet replied to Morse’s query how things were going. She decided to start at the action point and gave the detective a concise replay of the afternoon’s events.
“Where’s the body now?” Detective Morse asked.
“Still at the homeless camp. He’s in a sleeping bag but otherwise in the open.”
“You did the right thing, leaving him there,” Morse replied. “I’ll call the fire station and see if they can get paramedics to go pick him up. They’re trained in how to preserve evidence. If I can raise them, I’ll get them to pick Duane up, too.”
“Is there anything we can do?”
“No,” the detective said. “Staying safe is the best thing you can do. The Coast Guard thinks there might be a window between storms tomorrow that could let them fly us in by helicopter.”
“That would be great,” Harriet said.
They exchanged storm stories then rang off, with Morse promising to call again tomorrow.
Lauren had left the room while Harriet was talking to Morse. She returned a few moments later with a cookie in each hand.
“Here,” she said and handed one to Harriet. “Mavis cooked dinner, but I don’t think we get to eat until everyone else returns. Who knows when that will be?”
“I wish we knew how the other serial killer victims were killed,” Harriet said.
“I don’t. I don’t want to know anything about the serial killer. It’s none of our business.”
“If they were killed with electrical wire wrapped around their throats, it might explain Duane’s murder.”
“And make Owen and Kate killers.” Lauren handed a bite of cookie to Carter.
“Did you catch the bad blood between him and Richard?”
“You mean that stare-down when Jorge was handing out the food? Yeah, I noticed.”
“It doesn’t make sense. If Owen is the serial killer and he killed Richard, why didn’t he strangle him?” Harriet wondered. “And how on earth do they know each other?”
“Maybe he didn’t expect to run into Richard, who recognized him and therefore had to be killed. He saw an opportunity and took it.”
Harriet took a bite of her chocolate chip cookie and chewed thoughtfully.
“Owen’s truck was right there. He and Kate went back to it before Richard went missing. Why wouldn’t he get a length of the wire then?”
“You think the truck driver is the murderer?” Mavis asked
“I thought you were napping,” Lauren said.
“I couldn’t get to sleep. Curly kept squirming around trying to get under the quilt, and as soon as I let her under it, she was circling and digging until she worked her way out again. And then I was thinking about Marjory’s sister- in-law. I know she’s a difficult person, but no one deserves to have her husband killed like that. And then there’s that poor spoiled daughter.”
“I know,” Harriet said. “This is going to devastate both of them. They seemed pretty dependent.”
“Maybe they killed him,” Lauren suggested.
“Lauren,” Mavis scolded.
“What?”
“She has a point,” Harriet said. “Everyone is a suspect until we prove otherwise, and if they were as broke as Marjory thinks, and Richard had life insurance, he might be worth more to them dead.”
“I suppose there’s no doubt it was murder,” Mavis said. “Is there any chance he had an accident? Or even did himself in?”
“Tom said he’d been hit in the head,” Harriet reminded her. “I suppose it’s possible he could have fallen on something, but he was in Brandy’s bed.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Mavis said. “At this point, anything’s possible.”
“I’m going to get my stitching,” Lauren said and stood up. “We might as well do something useful-we’re getting nowhere as crime solvers.”
Harriet followed her to the studio where they’d both stored their projects.
Chapter 18
Lauren and Harriet were sitting in front of the fireplace, the candelabrum and two oil lamps arranged around them providing a warm light. Lauren was cutting more leaves for her appliqued wreathes from a piece of hand-dyed
