After Caroline by Kay Hooper Page B

store’s old-fashioned railing and quite obviously waiting for her. She was empty-handed, all her purchases having been left in the store behind her to be delivered to the hotel, and the bits and pieces of information she’d acquired today were a jumble in her head.
    Even more, she was trying to decide if the wariness she had sensed at times today had been real or her imagination. If she had imagined it, it was no wonder, given her state of mind. But if she had not imagined it, then what lay behind it? Because she was a stranger who looked like Caroline? Because she was asking questions? Because something other than an accidental death had happened in this nice little town?
    All she knew for sure, as she stood on the sidewalk, was that she felt wary herself. Especially now, confronting this man. She didn’t consider herself much of an actress, but she was determined to maintain her pose as simply a tourist enjoying the visit to his town.
    So she didn’t hesitate to say, “We’ve gotta stop meeting like this, Sheriff. People will begin to talk.”
    “As opposed to what they’ve been doing?” Not waiting for a reply, he asked, “Enjoying your shopping, Joanna?”
    “Immensely,” she said. “I bought a lot of stuff, really good stuff.”
    “I’m curious,” he said. “What’re you going to do with the basket? And with the clock in the shape of Cliffside’s courthouse?”
    “Have you been following me?” she demanded.
    “Not at all, I was merely on my daily rounds. Making sure the good citizens of Cliffside were all safe and happy.”
    Joanna glanced around at the downtown area, fairly busy on this sunny Thursday afternoon, and wasn’t surprised to catch a number of covert looks directed toward her and the town sheriff. The problem was, what should have struck her as simple and genuine interest in someone who looked oddly like Caroline was beginning to seem sinister to her. To
feel
sinister. As if everyone but her knew something, some dark secret they didn’t want her to find out.
    I’m just imagining things. Jumping at shadows
.
    “They look fine to me,” she said, lying.
    “I’m good at my job.”
    For the life of her, Joanna couldn’t tell how strong Griffin’s sense of humor was. So far, he hadn’t so much as cracked a smile, and the very dark eyes were completely unreadable. It left her uncertain as to just how serious his supposed curiosity was. Was he suspicious of her actions, or was he, in fact, merely being a small-town sheriff?
    Finally, she shrugged and said, “I can always use another basket.
Everyone
can always use another basket. And the clock is simply my souvenir of Cliffside.”
    “I assumed,” he said, “your souvenir of Cliffside would be the paperweight you bought at Merton’s.”
    “That should teach you not to assume. The paperweight, with its replica of The Inn inside, is obviously a souvenir of where I’m staying. Specifically where I’m staying, I mean.”
    He nodded gravely. “And the needlepoint pillow? I understand it represents the architectural marvels of our little community theater.”
    “The needlework,” Joanna said, “is exquisite.”
    “Umm. May I ask what is this fixation you have with buildings?”
    Still not so much as the glimmer of a smile. He had a great poker face, this sheriff. Joanna cleared her throat. “Look, all those things just happened to appeal to me, that’s all. Surely there isn’t a crime against buying things you like.”
    “No. I just find it rather surprising. I would have sworn you weren’t the kind of woman who would buy tacky tourist souvenirs.”
    “Well, obviously you were wrong.”
    “That is possible. I’ll even admit I was wrong—if you can explain to me what possessed you to buy the little box covered with seashells.”
    “A … souvenir for a friend back home?” she ventured.
    “Male or female?” he asked with detachment.
    “Female. Why?”
    “She likes poker?”
    Joanna blinked. “She wouldn’t know a