Cancelled by Murder by Jean Flowers Page B

startled by a night-light, of all silly things, and raced out of the shop. I’d flipped through the pages briefly and seen snippets of to-do lists and pages of a calendar, plus some sketches I took to be ideas for fabric patterns or quilts.
    Maybe Cliff could go back and retrieve the book. I certainly wasn’t about to. I made a note to ask him about it tomorrow.
    Or right now, I thought, as I heard my ring tone and saw his name on the screen of my smartphone.
    â€œSorry if I’m waking you up, Cassie, but I got a little worried when you said you needed another copy of the file I gave you today.”
    What was I thinking? That I’d get away without an explanation? All I’d managed to do was put off the inevitable probing.
    I gave Cliff an edited version of my trip home from work, including my vehicle break-in, which I labeled a prank, and excluding my own break-in of what was now his shop. (Was it breaking in even if the door was unlocked? Probably.)
    â€œThat’s awful, Cassie. What makes you think the killer himself didn’t take the file? He could have followed you and seen that I gave you stuff and—”
    Way to go, security guard
. “You’re scaring me, Cliff,” I said, even though that very thought had occurred to me.
    â€œSorry, sorry. Of course that’s very unlikely. I would have noticed if anyone were watching us.”
    I considered mentioning that at least one person had been watching us. The chief of police, in fact, and we hadn’t been aware of her, even though she was probably in a well-marked patrol car. I held back. No use stirring up already troubled waters.
    â€œI have a question for you, Cliff.”
    â€œShoot,” he said, seeming pleased that I was involved.
    â€œDid Daisy have regular meetings with Jules Edwards?”
    â€œOur accountant? Sure, they met every Friday. But, as I say, I never knew the details.”
    â€œThey wouldn’t be likely to meet every day?”
    â€œNo, no reason I can think of. They were both very efficient and kept up to date during those weekly meetings. Unless it was tax season, which it isn’t. He’s extremely busy then. He has a lot of other clients, in other towns as well as here. Is this important, Cassie?”
    I’d come to a point of reckoning. To tell Cliff about the multiple calendar entries in the notebook, I’d have to admit I’d found it while wandering around the shop, which would give rise to questions I wasn’t ready to answer. Some other time, I decided. “Nothing special. I’m just trying to get a picture of what her business life was like.”
    â€œShe gave it her all. I’ll tell you that.” Cliff’s voice broke up and I could hear that, as clinical as he was trying to be about the investigation, and as eager as he was to find her killer, first and foremost, he loved and missed his wife.
    My heart went out to him. I did my best with soothing words, and suggested we both get some rest.
    Once we signed off, another reason for frequent meetings between Daisy and Jules popped into my head. What if they were having an affair? Wasn’t that the number-one motive for murder? Surely on the top ten list. I shoved the thought aside. Who writes down times and dates of secret trysts? I was glad it hadn’t come up when Cliff and I were talking. He had enough to worry about.
    Since I was still fully awake and reluctant to turn off my lights and toss around in the dark, I figured I might as well do something useful. I pulled a notepad onto my lap and began to compile my own list of people to contact. The quilting group was a good start. But it was after ten o’clock, past the time when I’d feel comfortable calling most people.
    I looked around my bedroom, tapping my pen while I thought, pausing now and then to doodle. Without consciously applying myself, I found I’d drawn what could pass for a tree branch and part of a quilt. It