If the Shoe Kills by Lynn Cahoon

kissed me on the cheek. “Thanks for your help with this. When Sasha told me about how little these kids have, it almost broke my heart.”
    I walked her to the door. “We can’t save everyone in the world, but we sure can fix this one problem.”
    She waved as she got into her car and headed out to the road and the less-than-two-minute drive back to the shop and her apartment. I guess she couldn’t have walked the distance in those heels, but sometimes, I wondered about my aunt and her attachment to her car.
    I closed the door, bolted the lock, and headed back to the kitchen to continue my search. Instead, I found myself perusing my book supplier’s Web site and making a wish list to take with me tomorrow to my meeting with Mrs. Jenson. That way she wouldn’t have to make up a list on the spot and she could veto any controversial books.
    Although what could be banned for five-year-olds, I had no clue.
    The afternoon passed quietly, with a stint out on the back porch with Emma worrying a new bone and me deep into the young adult novel I’d started reading that morning. No wonder adults and kids loved this book. My thoughts were still with the story when I heard the tires of a vehicle spin out in front of the house.
    Kids, I thought. Getting one last burst of speed before they entered town and would have their actions reported to their parents sooner than they would arrive home. There were joys of life in a small town, but for the kids growing up here, there were also pitfalls. Everyone felt compelled to watch the kids to make sure no one was causing trouble. That might have been part of life in a tourist town, too; we had an image to uphold. Emma took off for the front yard and started barking.
    When she didn’t come back when I called, I set the book down on the swing and went around to see what she’d cornered. Probably a rabbit.
    She stood at the front door, sniffing a package.
    â€œHey, girl, what did you find?” I leaned down and realized it was a dead rabbit. But not one my dog had trapped. The body was wrapped in a sheet of paper.
    My hands were shaking as I unfolded the paper, setting the body of the rabbit on the edge of the porch rail out of Emma’s reach.
    â€œStop putting your nose in where it doesn’t belong,” I read aloud. The words chilled my blood even more. Someone wanted me out of the investigation of Ted’s murder. The implications of my continued involvement were clear.
    I dialed Greg’s private line.
    An hour later, I was staring at the television, not seeing the movie that Greg had turned on when he arrived, sitting me gently on the couch, Emma at my feet. There’d been more people than him out on the porch, taking pictures and dealing with the deceased bunny. The hair had been so soft, warm still. Yet I’d known as soon as I’d picked it up and it fell limp in my hand that it had been dead.
    I heard voices on the porch, then a car drove away. Greg came into the house and slipped onto the couch next to me, turning the volume down on the television.
    â€œYou okay?” He rubbed my arm. “You feel cold.” He reached over the couch and grabbed the quilt I left, covering the back to lay it gently around me.
    I swallowed. “I don’t know why this is upsetting me so much. It was just a rabbit.”
    Greg’s voice hardened. “You had a threat on your life. I know you feel bad for the bunny, but maybe you’re reacting to the note, not the body?”
    â€œWhat did you do with it?” I hoped it still didn’t sit on my porch.
    â€œTim took it back to the station. I don’t think we could get any evidence off it, but maybe the crime guys can pull a miracle.” He pulled me into his arms. “Seriously, are you okay? You’re too quiet, you’re scaring me.”
    I shrugged, trying to brush off the terror that I was feeling. My throat was dry and I swallowed, trying to keep the