Down Home and Deadly

have a good workout?”
    He flexed his muscles beneath his white T -shirt. “Always.”
    Even for Amelia, I draw the line at admiring another man’s pecs. I glanced toward the pool. “Do you swim?”
    He nodded. “Like a pro.” He apparently remembered who he was talking to, because he said, “Well, I may not be the best in the world.” He laughed. “But at least I can swim. Ol’ Rick can’t swim a lick.”
    Talk about opportunity knocking. “He can’t?”
    “Nah, he always says if God intended us to swim, he’d have give n us fins.”
    Mission accomplished. Now anyone with a brain could see that Ricky wasn’t suitable for Tiffany. Imagine anyone not swimming. I smiled at my silly thoughts. “Speaking of Ricky, is he an all - right guy?”
    Seth frowned at me and stumbled a little. “Yeah, he’s okay. Why?”
    I waved my hand airily. “I just don’t know him that well . . . and now that he’s playing b-ball with us on Sunday afternoons, I thought I should know a little about him.”
    “Like what?” Seth’s face darkened.
    Unsure whether to abort my mission or keep trying, I forged on. “Oh , I don’t know. Like did he move here to take the police job, or was he already here when the opening came?”
    “I don’t know. I think he had been here a little while when the opening came up. Why?” His eyes were filled with suspicion.
    “I told you. I just like to know about people. And I figured you’re his best friend, since y’all are partners and all.”
    He shrugged. “I don’t know about best friend. That sounds kinda girly. He’s a pal. We don’t hang out much, since h e and Tiffany have a thing going on.” He sent a searching look my way. “You do know about that, don’t you?”
    “Sure. I saw them at the c abins the other day, remember? Have they dated long? Did he date around when he first came?”
    Seth’s grin slipped slightly. “Why? You want to take him away from her? Did you forget that big rock on your finger?”
    My eyebrows rose. “No!”
    He put his hand on my arm and gazed into my eyes. “You’ve made it plain to me you’re engaged , and I’m dealing with that. So why are you asking about other men? ”
    Eek. I hadn’t taken into account that he might be jealous. “Seth . . . I—”
    He held up his hand. “I know. You only like me as a friend. But Tiffany’s a real sweet girl. And she doesn’t need you messing things up for her. So just remember, Rick’s taken.” He stomped off before I could assure him that I wasn’t after Tiffany’s boyfriend.
    I knew one thing for sure. I’d never ask Amelia for another favor.
    Her paybacks were too steep.

Chapter Eight

    Between a rock and a hard place

    The next night, I walked out of the diner and glanced at the digital numbers on the front of my cell phone. Only 8:30. I still had plenty of time to run by the Monitor and pick up some Dear Pru letters. I drove the short distance, pulled into the empty parking lot, and killed the motor.
    I dreaded going in to an empty office. But picking up the letters after everyone was gone was the only way to preserve my secret identity. Even though Marge had always told me just to tell people I did some part-time work for the newspaper, she also said not to be specific about what the part-time work entailed.
    So I’d gotten used to letting myself in the back door with the key Marge had given me and finding my way through the darkened offices to the desk where my letters were kept. Still, every time I unlocked this door , I thought about Hank Templeton, the former editor. And about his murder. Tonight, as I headed down the hall, I noticed a light shining under the door of the editor’s office.
    I shivered. Had Hank left the light on for me?
    Since I didn’t believe in ghosts, I hefted my carryall, wondering how much impact it would have on a skull. Not much, since I’d emptied it before I left home. I glanced around the hall. Unless I intended to yank a picture off the wall and beat the intruder over the head, I had few options. I turned to look for a more conventional weapon and tripped over a trash can.
    The office door opened.
    “Freeze ! I’ve got a gun and I know how to use it,” a woman’s voice snarled.
    “Don’t shoot!” I threw my arms over my head.
    “Jenna?”
    “Tiffany? Thank goodness. You scared me to death.”
    “Yeah? Well, my heart’s beating a little fast, too.”
    “Do you really have a gun?” I couldn’t resist asking.
    “Sort of.” She