Dead Giveaway by Brenda Novak

own, as if there’d never been a better farmer. But the worst was when she’d put him in her Singles section and referred to him as “appealing to women” and possessing an “elusive, mysterious allure.” Suspicions being what they were, he already drew enough attention when he walked into a room. He didn’t need her training the spotlight on him.
    But, according to Madeline, she sold more papers when she included an article about him, so he didn’t complain. He figured it wouldn’t kill him to occasionally boost her circulation.
    Still, he cringed at her next words.
    â€œAfter the thing with Beth Ann, I’d like to do one on what causes a woman to make false claims against the man she loves.”
    â€œWhen?”
    â€œIn a few weeks.”
    Hoping she’d forget by then, he picked up his wallet and keys. “What are you working on now?”
    â€œA series of articles on Allie.”
    â€œWill they run in the Singles section?”
    â€œNo, this is front page stuff. I’m writing about some of the murders she solved while she was working in Chicago.”
    â€œSounds interesting.”
    â€œIt is. In one case, she found the guilty party because of the stitching on the bedsheet that was wrapped around the victim’s body.”
    â€œThe stitching?” he repeated.
    â€œYeah. I guess she could tell that the sheet wasn’t the type typically purchased for home use. So she contacted the big commercial cleaners who wash linens for hotel chains in the area and, sure enough, each hotel has different-colored stitching to designate which sheets belong where.”
    â€œHow did that lead her to the killer?” he asked.
    â€œYou can read the details when the article comes out. It was pretty darn smart of her. But, basically, she traced the sheet to a major downtown hotel and one of their employees.”
    â€œGreat,” Clay said. But he wasn’t sure he wanted to read the article. He was worried enough already.
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    â€œAllie?”
    Her father’s voice intruded on the Disney movie she was watching with Whitney. Picking up the remote, shemuted the sound so Dale wouldn’t have to yell quite as loudly. “What?” she called back.
    â€œTelephone!”
    Allie hadn’t heard it ring. She’d been dozing. She was off work for the weekend, which meant she could sleep through the night. But she was having trouble staying awake until bedtime. “Coming!”
    She turned up the volume again, leaving Belle singing to the Beast as she walked into the adjoining room—her father’s den. It took a moment to find the phone amid the clutter on his desk. “Hello?”
    â€œAllie?”
    â€œYes?”
    â€œIt’s Madeline.”
    Allie sank into her father’s leather chair. She’d been expecting this call. “How are you?”
    â€œGood. And you?”
    â€œHanging in there.”
    â€œGlad to hear it. I have the Bible you were asking about. I’ve pored over every single word and I can’t find anything that could be called a clue. But I’d be happy to let you see it.”
    â€œA fresh pair of eyes might help. I’m not making quick progress on your father’s case, but I am working on it. It takes a while to go through so much material, especially when I’m trying to note every detail.”
    â€œI understand. I’m grateful you’re being so thorough. You’ll uncover the missing piece. I’m sure of it.”
    Allie pitied the hope in Madeline’s voice. Maddy had waited nineteen years to find out what had happened to her father and was still waiting. Allie couldn’t imagine how difficult that must be. “I can’t make any promises, but I’ll try.”
    â€œIf anyone can help me, you can.”
    Allie prayed that Madeline’s confidence wasn’t misplaced. For every case she’d solved, there were at least five she’d