Absolutely, Positively

city.”

    “So?”

    “You got into trouble with your espresso bars because you expanded too rapidly,” Molly said. “If you're serious about salvaging your business, you're going to have to pay closer attention to the basics of running your operation. You need professional advice regarding marketing techniques, packaging, and advertising.”

    “Yeah?” Gordon glared, half-defiant, half-intrigued. “Where do you suggest I get that advice?”

    “From Tessa,” Molly said.

    A startled hush fell on the shop.

    Tessa reacted first. “What are you talking about, Molly? Are you saying I should give Gordon the benefit of everything I've learned working for you?”

    “Only if he's willing to pay for it,” Molly murmured.

    Tessa was incensed. “You actually want me to help the competition? You want me to show him how to beef up his advertising program? Redesign his packaging? Tell him how to handle suppliers? What would that make me?”

    “A consultant,” Harry said.

    Tessa blinked. Then she met Gordon's eyes across the room.

    “A consultant.” Tessa savored the word.

    “I couldn't afford much in the way of consulting fees,” Gordon warned.

    “That's okay,” Tessa said smoothly. “I'll take a percentage of the profits.”

    “There aren't any at the moment,” Gordon said.

    Tessa glanced at Molly and then smiled. “There will be.”

    Gordon hesitated. “You want to go have a latte and talk about it?”

    “Sure,” Tessa said. “What have I got to lose?” She grabbed her oversized backpack and followed him out of the shop.

    Harry raised one brow as the door closed behind the pair. “Should I be concerned about this sudden show of compassion for Brooke?”

    Molly was surprised by the question. “I didn't do that for Gordon's sake. I did it for Tessa.”

    “I see.”

    “Tessa has a feel for sales and marketing,” Molly said. “She's a natural, but she'll never fit in with corporate America. I've been worrying about her future. She can't work as my assistant forever. She needs to find a specialized niche where she can develop her talents. It occurred to me that Gordon Brooke Espresso Bars may be a good place to start.”

    Harry's eyes gleamed. “Know what I think?”

    “What?”

    “I think that, in addition to the Abberwick curiosity, you also got the family urge to tinker. It just so happens that you do your tinkering with people rather than inanimate objects.”

    “Never mind Tessa and Gordon. Any news from your investigator?”

    The wry humor vanished from Harry's gaze. “Rice phoned twenty minutes ago. He finally located the car and made arrangements with the owner of the wrecking yard. I'm going to take a look at Kendall's Ford in the morning.”

    “You're going to fly to Portland tomorrow morning?”

    “First thing.”

    “I'll go with you,” Molly said.

    “What about your shop?”

    “Tessa can handle things here tomorrow. She can bring in one of the other women in the band if she needs help.”

    Harry gave her a considering look. Then he nodded once. “All right. Maybe it would be better if you came with me.”

    Molly was pleased. “You think I might be able to give you some helpful advice?”

    “Not exactly,” Harry said. “I think that if Kendall really was murdered by someone who was trying to cover his tracks, I'd rather have you where I can keep an eye on you.”

    Molly made a face. She collected her shoulder bag and started toward the front door. “Always nice to feel wanted.”

    At ten o'clock the following morning Harry stood with Molly amid the carcasses of a herd of dead automobiles. A formidable steel fence topped with frothy coils of barbed wire surrounded the remains of the deceased vehicles. The sign at the entrance of the metal graveyard bore the name Maltrose Wrecking.

    It was a suitable day for viewing the departed. A leaden sky promised rain at any moment. A brisk sea breeze snapped at the sleeves of Harry's shirt. It had already whipped Molly's hair into a fluffy froth. She had to hold the stuff out of her eyes with one hand.

    The owner of the junkyard, one Chuck Maltrose, stood next to Harry. He was a big man who looked as if he had once played football and lifted weights. His glory days appeared to have ended at some point in the distant past, however. Much of the muscle had turned to fat over the years.

    “This the one you wanted to see?” Chuck glanced at Harry.

    Harry eyed the remains of the blue Ford and then