Cancelled by Murder by Jean Flowers Page A

called to cancel our plans to get together this evening.
Good and bad news
. Good, because she wouldn’t be able to query me on how I was keeping Cliff happy; bad, because I wouldn’t be able to query her on how her investigation was going.
    My inner circle was accounted for.
    Besides the real messages, I listened to offers for new carpeting and for cleaning my old ones; and to solicitations for community projects. A couple of hang-ups were also the norm, but one of those was different tonight, consisting infifteen or twenty seconds of breathing. Or maybe I was hearing telephone noise on the line.
    I thought of the
go home
note I’d received. And of the burglarizing of my car. Were they all connected? Was I someone’s target? Overreacting, I decided, and proceeded to extract my bagel, smear it with a thick layer of cream cheese and a dab of grape jelly, and carry it and a mug of coffee to my rocker in the living room. Before settling in, I made another trip around my house, double-checking all windows and doors.
    Not that I was worried about anything. But when my cell phone rang, I jumped and spilled coffee onto the napkin on my lap. I blew out a deep breath when I saw the caller ID. Martindale Qui, which was as close as my cell phone could come to spelling out my long-named boyfriend.
    Before the first “Hey,” I decided not to let Quinn in on the mini attacks I’d been through today.
    â€œI’m doing fine,” I said. “So happy you’ll be home for the weekend.”
    â€œI can’t wait to show you all the treasures I picked up. Though some of them will be arriving by truck next week.”
    â€œNo business for the USPS?” I teased.
    He laughed. “Maybe tomorrow I’ll find something mailable.”
    We made plans for dinner on Sunday evening, which was the latest he expected to arrive. I chose an Italian place, since I had an unexplained (to Quinn) craving for shrimp scampi.
    My phone alerted me to another call, from Cliff Harmon. I clicked over, happy for an excuse to tell Cliff I had to make it short.
    â€œI’m on another call right now,” I said, “but I wanted to let you know that I’m going to need another copy of the files.”
    â€œWhy? What happened?” He sound flustered, as I expected.
    â€œThat’s not important right now. Can you bring the copies by the post office tomorrow?”
    â€œSure, but—”
    â€œThanks. Sorry to rush off. See you then.”
    I clicked back to Quinn. “Okay. Everything’s all set.”
    â€œGood,” he said, though I knew he had no idea what I meant.
    It was just as well. Soon enough, it would be almost impossible to keep a secret investigation secret from him also.

8
    T here was no use trying to sleep with my head swimming, full of confused thoughts. About Daisy, about tasks to keep Cliff happy without alerting Sunni, and about my own safety. Was that surly note addressed to “Postmaster” a one-off, or would there be more, sullying my mail? Was the looting of my car only a prank, as I wanted to portray it, or a warning message? If so, a message about what?
    As if all that mental commotion wasn’t enough, I missed Quinn and worried about my friendship with Sunni, given my near promise to play cop with Cliff. Not even a new thriller downloaded to my e-reader was enough to engage me tonight—a tall, handsome ex-SEAL (who graduated first in his class, of course) notwithstanding.
    The sooner Daisy’s murder case was solved, the better. I put aside complications with the chief of police anddecided to proceed, working with what I had until I could obtain another copy of the file from Cliff.
    I thought about the small notebook I’d pulled from the back of the file cabinet in Daisy’s shop. Pillows propped behind me, I sat up in bed and tried to remember what I’d seen, berating myself for not taking it with me. At the time, I’d been