Fugitive Filling by Jessica Beck

sorry. I didn’t check. Should I call Chief Grant and tell him about it? I would hate for it to look like I was snooping through the poor woman’s garbage just before she was murdered.”
    “Call him,” I said without having to consult Jake. “If it helps the police, you’ll be doing Teresa the last favor you could do for her, and if it doesn’t matter, the chief won’t mind the interruption. Better to err on the side of caution.”
    “Okay. I’ll call him right now. Thank you for the advice.”
    “Thank you for the information,” I said.
    I was about to hang up when she asked, “When I call the police chief, should I tell him that we spoke about this?”
    I wanted to say no, but I knew that I couldn’t do that. It wasn’t fair to put that kind of burden on my friend, a woman who had enough weight on her shoulders without me adding to it. “Sure, tell him that we spoke. It’s okay with me.”
    “Thanks. I hate keeping anything from him, you know?”
    “I completely understand,” I said.
    After we hung up, I gave Jake a brief rundown of what Miranda had told me. It was clear that he’d picked a lot of it up just from listening closely. Miranda didn’t believe in using her indoor voice, ever, and I was certain that he’d been able to get everything that had been said without my report, but I still felt better giving it.
    “That’s interesting on so many levels,” Jake said after I finished.
    “One thing we know for sure is that dust was left there the day she was murdered, and so was the label,” I replied. “Miranda’s a fierce cleaner. I can vouch for that.”
    “I’m interested in that, too, but who is this mysterious A?”
    “I don’t know. Teresa never took me into her confidence, and to be fair, I never asked her about her personal life. Whoever it was, I’m guessing that she rejected him at some point in her life, and he was ready to force his way back into it, no matter what it might take.”
    “If Miranda’s memory is good, it’s not exactly a love letter, is it?”
    “There seemed to be a lot of implied threats in it, but bear one thing in mind. Miranda went through a pretty nasty divorce, and her view of the men in this world might be a bit tainted,” I said. “She gave us her interpretation of that note by memory. It’s not something we can take at face value without seeing it for ourselves.”
    “Maybe not, but we still need to discover who this A character is,” Jake said.
    “You’re right. Somebody needs to,” I replied, reminding Jake that our investigation was secondary to Chief Grant’s inquiry.
    “Just not me, right?” Jake asked with a grin.
    “Don’t worry. There are plenty of other things we can do with our time,” I said.
    “Like what? I’m open to suggestions.”
    “Let me grab a quick shower and change my clothes, and I’ll see what I can come up with.”

Chapter 8
    “J ake, where did you go?” I called out after I took my shower and put on clean clothes. The cottage we shared wasn’t that big, but even after I checked out the upstairs where I used to sleep, I still couldn’t find him.
    Then I noticed that the front door was unlocked. I looked out the window and saw Jake standing on the porch speaking with someone I didn’t recognize. It was a man in his late twenties; he was wearing a nice suit, and judging by the BMW in our driveway, he had money and wasn’t afraid to spend it. I grabbed my jacket and walked outside to join them.
    “Hello, I’m Suzanne,” I said as I introduced myself.
    “I’m Alexander Rose,” he said. “I’m sorry I can’t stay and chat, but I really must go. Thank you for the information, Jake.”
    “Sure thing,” my husband said. “Will you be in town long?”
    “I’m staying in Union Square at the Marriott,” he said. It was the nicest chain hotel within thirty miles of us.
    “Good to know,” Jake said as Alexander got into his car and drove away.
    “What was that all about, and why didn’t you