Love Can Be Murder

treasures you told me about?"
    "Follow me." She went into her office and closed the door, then unlocked the file cabinet and withdrew the bag of truffles.
    "Mon Dieu ," he muttered when he opened the bag. He lifted a truffle and scrutinized it under the light, then inhaled its pungent odor and rolled his eyes in ecstasy.
    Penny laughed. "So do these Mojo truffles pass muster?"
    He nodded, then stroked his chin. "I am amazed. Are there more where these came from?"
    "So he says."
    "How does this man grow them? I must meet him."
    "I'm not sure that's a good idea," she said. "He's a very private person." Plus she had the feeling that Ziggy was trying to cut out the middleman—her. She didn't mind, but she would have to talk to Jimmy first.
    "Does he use a pig to sniff them out?"
    "A dog, actually."
    "Ah. Dogs are preferable because they won't eat the truffle when they dig it up, but they are difficult to train." He sighed. "Now...how much?"
    "Five hundred for the pound."
    "Three hundred," he countered.
    "Four hundred."
    "Three hundred fifty."
    "Four hundred," Penny repeated firmly. "And you know that's a great price."
    "That's a great price for imported French black truffles," Ziggy corrected. "We do not yet know what the market will be for Mojo black truffles."
    Penny crossed her arms. "Perhaps I should find out."
    "Four hundred," he agreed, then removed his wallet with a sigh. "And as many more as he and his wonder-dog can find." He counted one-hundred-dollar bills into her palm. "And this is our little secret?"
    "I can't make any promises on the part of my woodsman."
    Ziggy frowned. "Your woodsman had better be quiet for his own safety. The minute the word gets out that he's sitting on black truffles, he will be descended upon."
    Penny gave a little laugh. "You're joking."
    "No, I'm not. If he and his dog can forage a pound of truffles a day for the season, that's excellent money—especially if he can avoid the tax man."
    She nodded solemnly. In an area like Mojo, where jobs were scarce, it was the equivalent of drug money, without the risk of jail time.
    Penny led Ziggy back out into the store, and he nodded approvingly at the customers milling around. "I see the festival is bringing in the tourists."
    "Yes, it's been very good for business."
    His gaze latched onto a couple of fetching young women who were looking through the magazines but glancing at him under their lashes. "Hm. I might find somewhere to get a drink before I return to the city."
    "Try Caskey's," Penny said. "It's right on the square." She hesitated, then added, "We're having a little party there tonight if you want to stop by."
    His eyebrows went up. "And what are we celebrating?"
    Warmth crept up her face. "My divorce."
    "Oh? I didn't know. I've talked to Deke a couple of times and he didn't mention it."
    Penny blinked. "I remember the two of you meeting here once, but I didn't realize that you were friends."
    Ziggy's face reddened. "I was having a little personal problem, and I needed an out-of-town attorney to handle it."
    "Oh."
    "I'm sorry to hear your marriage didn't work out."
    She still didn't know what to say when people told her that. That she was sorry too? That she wished she'd never met Deke Black? That she had lost faith in marriage as an institution and in the idea that she would ever trust someone again? "Thanks."
    "I might see you at Caskey's," Ziggy said, then hurried to open the door for the women he'd been ogling.
    "I'll lock up," Marie said, then gave Penny a pointed glance. "So you can go home and change into something more...festive."
    Penny looked down at her overalls and wrinkled shirt, which still bore skid marks from her earlier encounter with the asphalt. "You think?"
    "I think."
    "I'm not sure I have anything festive."
    "Look," Marie said. "Hard."
    "Okay," Penny agreed with a sigh. "I'll meet you there in, say, a half hour?"
    "Why don't you take a full hour to get ready?" Marie suggested. "Maybe even break out the lipstick."
    Penny frowned. "See you there."
    After retrieving her coat and waving to Guy, she slipped out the front door and turned right, out of habit. She had reached the sidewalk and stood face-to-face with the house in all of its pink misery before she realized what she'd done. Self-pity washed over her.
    Some people were like rubber bands—willing to stretch but eager to snap back into place at the first opportunity.
    It was a Freudian slip, she decided, to walk back to her former home just before she