Love Can Be Murder

this time."
    "Sounds productive," he said. "Okay, well, I guess I'll see you around, Red."
    "Sure. The next time you're in Mojo, look me up."
    "I will," he said, then strode away, his step carefree.
    "No, you won't," she murmured, watching him walk away. "But I'll never forget you."
    Her cell phone rang, and Gloria Dalton's number popped up. "Hello, Gloria? Did you hear the good news?"
    "The D.A. called me," Gloria said, her voice sounding strained. "How frightening is it to think the wrong person was almost prosecuted for Deke's murder?"
    "Pretty frightening when it's me," Penny admitted.
    "So, um, the D.A. mentioned he might have a place for me on his staff."
    Penny smiled into the phone. "Criminal law? Are you considering it?"
    "I'm considering it," Gloria said. "It's certainly more exciting than family and divorce law, and I'm looking for a change."
    "Keep me posted?"
    "Absolutely. Oh, and Penny, I kept forgetting to tell you. I ran a background check on that P.I. that Chief Davis was so suspicious of, Baron Jeffrey Beaumont."
    Baron Jeffrey? "Yes?" Penny said, her pulse clicking higher. She could still see him in the distance. Was he a con man? Criminal? Fugitive?
    "He's legit. And he works pro bono."
    Penny frowned. "What? How does he make a living?"
    "He already did that—made a small fortune in technology. He and his brother started an agency and take on missing persons cases. Sounds like a real stand-up guy."
    Penny closed her eyes briefly, her heart aching. "Yeah, sounds like it." She disconnected the call and watched him until he disappeared into the crowd.

Chapter Thirty

    Don't kill it all in one sitting...

    WHEN PENNY RETURNED TO THE STORE, she did restake her garden (with surveyor's fluorescent spray paint) and spent the rest of the afternoon stepping off what plants would go where. Mona and the city council would just have to get used to a cornfield in the city limits—she would break ground next week. She noticed the opening in the fence was still wired shut and wondered if she should talk to Hazel or Troy about having a stone path from her parking lot to the museum. It seemed silly to have such rigid fences between businesses that thrived on the same type of customer.
    She took off her gloves and stretched her back. In the distance, she heard the ceremonial drums in the peristil pounding the slow, monklike rhythm and chant of their closing ceremony. She shivered. Even from here, it sounded like a death march.
    Deke would never be more than a few seconds from her mind, she realized. And she would forever mourn the emotional distance she had maintained in her marriage that blinded her to Deke's dark tendencies. But she would have to accept his untimely death just as she had accepted her father's. The alternative was madness.
    She turned back to the Archambault mansion, and a movement caught her eye...in the cupola, like before. It had to be a bat. But the longer she stared, the more focused the image became. It was too big to be a bat. Perhaps an eagle or a vulture had made a nest? She pulled out her binoculars and tried to find the image among the foliage. There. She focused on the object...and nearly swallowed her tongue—a hand? A hand extending from the cupola, waving a red cloth. Penny looked at her watch. The museum was closed for the day. Had someone accidentally been locked in?
    She lowered the binoculars as another, darker thought came to mind—or was someone being held against their will? She pulled out her cell phone only to find the battery dead. Penny looked back over the distance to the shop, biting her lip in uncertainty. What if she raised an alarm and it turned out to be a cleaning lady?
    She raised the binoculars again, but saw nothing. Was her mind playing tricks on her? She toyed with the idea of returning to call B.J., but he would be back in the city by now, and besides, she would mostly be calling because she missed him.
    No, for time's sake, and the fading light, she'd investigate alone. She decided she couldn't scale the tall fence without risk of impaling herself on one of the spikes on top, so she went back to the original opening in the fence she had discovered under all the foliage. With pruning shears from her garden tool belt, she hacked at the repair wire. She made it through with only a few scratches but realized she might need some of her tools, so she squeezed back through, quickly picked through the more useful implements, then tossed her tool belt over the