Alibis and Amethysts by Sharon Pape

she’d
     spent the afternoon, all she would have been able to say with any certainty was that
     she’d spent it in the shop.
    This was definitely not an evening to interview prospective suspects, much less drive
     a car. Exhaustion trumped everything. She made a small mushroom and cheddar omelet,
     but managed to eat only a few bites of it before even her appetite shut down. All
     she could think about was crawling under the covers and closing her eyes. Raffles
     obligingly gobbled up the remainder of the omelet before following her new gal pal
     into the bedroom.
    Jaye awoke the next morning to a sharp pain in her left foot. After the initial wash
     of fear passed, she realized that it was the not-a-cat checking out her toes. Or more
     accurately, playing with them. Every time Jaye wiggled a toe, Raffles attacked it
     as if it were a fascinating new toy. Jaye hated to be a killjoy, but her new roomie
     had astonishingly sharp little teeth.
    After she’d showered and made coffee, her first order of business was to call Sierra,
     even though at 7:00 in the morning her friend was probably still elbow-deep in dough.
     Shortly after opening the bakery, Sierra had had to hire part-time help to work the
     counter. It had proven logistically impossible to get the baking done when she was
     constantly running up front to help customers. In true Sierra fashion, she’d hired
     the first person she interviewed. When Jaye had questioned the wisdom of that decision,
     Sierra had replied simply that Ruth Ashford was the right one. She’d felt it in her
     bones. For as long as Jaye had known her, Sierra had trusted her “bones” to make decisions.
     In spite of Jaye’s misgivings about hiring a seventy-something worker without references
     or experience, Ruth had proven to be a good choice. She was always on time, honest
     to the penny, and she seemed to know everyone who lived within a thirty-mile radius,
     which was great for business. As far as Jaye could tell, her only faults were dozing
     off in the folding chair Sierra had provided for the infrequent lulls between customers
     and eating her weight in chocolate chip cookies. Ruth had even offered to reimburse
     Sierra for the loss in revenue caused by her addiction, but Sierra wouldn’t hear of
     it. She simply made an extra batch each day so they wouldn’t run out.
    To Jaye’s surprise, it was Sierra who answered the phone.
    “Good timing,” she said brightly. “You caught me between the cinnamon raisin breads
     and the cupcakes—carrot with cream cheese frosting, by the way. Should I save one
     for you?”
    “Make it two,” Jaye said, after which she launched into a quick recap of the past
     twenty-four hours, everything from Raffles to the ME to the detectives’ visit.
    “It’s getting serious,” Sierra murmured.
    “No, it
is
serious,” Jaye said. “If it gets any more serious, we’ll have to hop the border to
     Mexico. But listen, I’m sure there are other people who had good motives to kill Peggy.
     It’s just a matter of figuring out who they are and which one actually did it. At
     lunchtime I’m going to pay Adam Grayson a visit.”
    “I should go with you,” Sierra said, “but I have that big order to deliver up in Flagstaff
     today.”
    “Who invited you?” Jaye said, struggling to lighten her tone. There was nothing to
     be gained by harping on the gravity of the situation. “You’d only cramp my style anyway.”
    ***
    The Grayson Gallery was empty when Jaye walked in. A bell chimed somewhere in the
     back to announce her arrival, but she was left to browse alone for a full five minutes
     before anyone appeared. The gallery was a spare and elegant space with thick silver-gray
     carpeting that minimized noise and lighting engineered to showcase each painting and
     sculpture to its best advantage. The artwork was grouped by artist and included works
     that ranged from impressionist to abstract, as well as some pieces Jaye had trouble