Dearly Depotted by Kate Collins

the cat into her arms. “Simon ate the legs off a bee. When was the last time you fed him?”
    “My, aren’t we grouchy this morning?” Nikki said, following as I stumbled to the kitchen for a glass of orange juice.
    “Five hours of sleep,” I groused, “and a missed chance at romance.”
    “Late nights are murder on you, aren’t they?”
    I stopped pouring the juice and glanced around at her.
    “What did I say?” Her eyes got wide in mock alarm. “Omigod, Jillian finally pushed you over the edge and you did away with her. How did you do it? Did you hold her face under the frosting of her cake?”
    “No, but that’s a good idea. I wish I’d thought of that last night.”
    Between gulps of juice and mouthfuls of toast, I gave Nikki the rundown on the entire previous evening, including Jack’s fistfight, return to the banquet center, and murder. I also mentioned Jack’s disguise and the cops’ interest in Grace’s beau. Then I tossed in the part about Marco tucking me in, and Nikki nearly had a seizure.
    “You slept through that?” she kept saying, until finally I threw on my workout clothes and headed for the park to escape her. Then I plodded around the track like an elephant slogging through wet cement. Five hours’ sleep was not enough for this sleeping beauty.
     
    When I dragged myself into the shop at eight o’clock, Grace didn’t come out of the parlor as she usually did, ready to greet me with a cup of coffee and her chipper, “Good morning, dear. How are we today?” In fact, she didn’t come out of the parlor at all, so I peered in at her and smiled. “Good morning.”
    There were circles beneath her eyes and her hair wasn’t as neatly styled as it usually was. “Oh, good morning, dear,” she said, trying to put cheer in her voice. “I didn’t hear the bell. Let me get a cup of coffee for you.”
    “I’ll do it,” I said, but she was already pouring, so I took a seat at the coffee bar. On the counter was a copy of the New Chapel News , open to the front page, where a headline blared: MURDERER ON THE LOOSE. Underneath it was an article and a photo of Jack Snyder. I turned it over so Grace wouldn’t have to look at it. “You’re exhausted, Grace. Why don’t you take the day off?”
    “I’d only sit and fret. The police questioned Richard extensively last night, and I’m afraid they’re not done with him. They’ve asked him not to leave town.”
    “That’s standard procedure. I wouldn’t worry.”
    “It’s not that I want to worry, dear, but they didn’t ask me not to leave town.”
    She had a point.
    “And one more thing,” Grace said. “It appears Richard doesn’t have anyone who can verify his movements after he left the banquet hall after all.”
    “No one at the sports center saw him?”
    “No one. He used the back entrance and went directly upstairs to his office. At that time of evening he has a manager on the main floor, but the second floor is empty.”
    “Tell me again why he had to leave.”
    She poured herself a cup of tea and joined me at the counter. “All I know is that it was a business matter. I didn’t ask for specifics because I didn’t really feel it was my place. I’ve only known him a short while.”
    “Let’s look at this from the police’s viewpoint. What would Richard’s motive be?”
    “I suppose they could say he did it out of revenge, but I tell you, Abby, Richard is a kind, decent man. He would never stoop to such a level.” She set her cup into the saucer with a clatter.
    “Are you sure about him, Grace? As you said, you haven’t known him that long.”
    She struck a pose, a sure sign a quote was on its way. “As Josiah Gilbert Holland wrote, ‘The time demands strong minds, great hearts, true faith, and willing hands.’ I can’t think of a more apt description of Richard, and as you know, I’m an excellent judge of character.”
    “You didn’t trust Marco when you first met him.”
    “I still don’t, but it has