The thin older lady patted her enormous purse. “Where it always is—or was.”
“When did you discover it was missing?” Maris asked.
Eunice glanced at Millicent before answering. “A couple of hours ago.” She clutched her purse a bit closer. “Right after I was cornered by that reporter.”
“Megan Kantor,” Millicent confirmed. “The same woman who’s staying at the B&B.”
The same woman that Maris had found in her bedroom. She looked sideways to where Megan was interviewing Minako. Millicent and Eunice followed her gaze.
“Yes, that’s her,” Millicent said.
Eunice clucked her tongue. “Pushy and nosy. Up to no good, if you ask me.”
“Very nosy,” Maris had to agree.
For a few moments the three of them simply stared at her. Millicent was the first to look away.
“She goes everywhere,” the head of the club noted. “She has every opportunity.” Millicent nodded toward Castaways. “She had been interviewing Ryan shortly before those lead weights went missing.”
So they knew about the other thefts, at least some of them. Of course they did. And they were right about the journalist likely being at each of the crime scenes.
“Huh,” Maris muttered, as all three of them returned their gazes to the woman.
But what Maris couldn’t fathom was what her motivation might be.
As though Eunice had heard her thoughts, she said, “Maybe she needs the money. Those shoes of hers, completely worn out.”
Millicent put a hand to her chin. “Or perhaps she’s a kleptomaniac.” Maris regarded the older woman, who made a circling motion near her temple. “You know, maybe a bit unbalanced.”
“Or both,” Eunice said. She glared at the reporter for another moment or two. “Maybe I’ll leave my wallet at the club the next time we’re out.”
“A sensible precaution,” Millicent agreed.
“Ms. Leclair,” Mac said, from behind Maris. She turned to see him and Bowdie, there hands full of sandwiches and cold drinks. He glanced at Eunice.
“Sheriff,” Millicent said, standing. “May I introduce Eunice Harridan?” Mac inclined his head to her as she also got up.
“Ms. Harridan,” Mac said, smiling. “A pleasure.” He nodded toward Bowdie. “Bowdie Johnson, one of the festival’s headliners.”
The young man smiled at them. “Ladies.”
“Lovely to meet you,” Millicent said smiling, though Eunice’s mouth remained downturned. “We were just telling Maris how nice it was to see the festival be so successful.” She glanced in the direction of her home. “But I think we’ve got to be going and find some cooler air.” Eunice glared at the crowd as she descended the few steps of the gazebo. “We’ll leave you to your lunch then.” With a last glance at Maris, Millicent followed Eunice.
Mac handed Maris a sandwich. “Crab salad sandwiches. I hope that works for you.” He gestured to the empty bench.
She smiled at him as she took her seat. “Sounds perfect.”
Bowdie handed her a drink. “Sweet tea.”
“Oh,” she said. “That’s going to be great on a day like this.”
The musician smiled at her. “That’s what we were thinking.” He looked at Mac as they sat on either side of her. “Thanks again for lunch.”
As the three of them unwrapped and dug into their meals, Maris thought back on what Millicent and Eunice had said about Megan. Something in the back of her mind was bothering her. She agreed wholeheartedly with Eunice about the woman being up to no good. Millicent was likely also right about her being at all the theft locations. It wasn’t the facts that troubled her but something else…
Maris nearly choked on her crab salad sandwich when she realized what it was.
There’d been no negotiation.
When dealing with the cabal, information was currency. There was always a bit of tit for tat and secretive wrangling. But today, they’d essentially given her a freebie—and Maris knew why.
They wanted the thief caught just as much as she did.
18
As Mac backed his truck away from the B&B, Maris gave him a wave, and he gave a brief honk of the horn. She’d had a wonderful time, as usual, but both she and Mac needed to get back to work. Bowdie had another performance later in the day, so he’d decided to stay in town, and had also mentioned listening to a few of the other bands.
But as Maris closed the front door, she couldn’t help but think about Megan’s motivation. Millicent and Eunice had seemed to zero in on the journalist without any doubt. Although she was pushy and nosy, she simply didn’t strike Maris as a thief, particularly poor, or mentally disturbed. Being gruff and not terribly likable didn’t equate with stealing.
In their room, Maris found Mojo lounging. He was sprawled on the bed, but lifted his head when she came in.
“Hey there, Mojo,” she said, depositing her purse next to him. She gave his soft flank a gentle pat. “Siesta time, eh?” He gave her a lazy little meow, languidly stretched, and then flopped back down. “I know what you mean.”
But as she was smoothing her fingers along his fluffy fur, the room faded to a misty white—and she froze. It was a precognitive vision. Though they didn’t happen often, she understood what to do now: nothing. It’d taken her some time to get used to the way her real vision disappeared without warning, but she found that if she could manage to relax, the precognition sometimes lasted longer.
A dim orange light appeared, small at first, but growing. A deepening darkness surrounded it, contrasting with the brightness at its center. But the more she looked at it, the more it looked like a flame. Yes, it was definitely a fire of some sort. It was flickering and smoke rose from it. As the circle of her vision widened, she realized there were trees. They were enormous, with deeply textured, red bark, some three stories tall.
That had to be the redwood forest east of town.
Suddenly the vision winked out, her eyesight returned, and she was looking into Mojo’s amber eyes. Her hand still rested on his side but he was watching her intently. She gave him a gentle
