Murder Most Finicky by Liz Mugavero

information is filed away in the basement of our office. What can I say?” Sheldon shrugged. “Short staffed.”
    Stan waited.
    â€œWhat?” Sheldon asked.
    â€œHis name? If I know it, I can be on the lookout for anyone talking about it. If I don’t, I can’t help you.”
    Sheldon didn’t like being backed into a corner. Stan could see his brain running quick rationales and calculations before he answered. “It’s Pete Landsdowne.”
    Definitely not a name that conjured up an image of an eclectic French pastry chef. Stan pulled out her phone and tapped the name into her notes. “I’ll let you know if I hear anything. Did Kyle get here yet?”
    Sheldon shook his head.
    â€œHeard from him?”
    Another shake.
    â€œWhat if he doesn’t come back?”
    â€œHe’ll come back,” Sheldon said. “Don’t you worry.” He blew her a kiss, then went inside.
    Stan sat on the bench out front to wait for her sister. She realized she had no idea what Caitlyn drove. She felt a pang of regret about her dysfunctional relationships with her mom and sister. A black Jaguar SUV careened into the driveway and parked in the valet curve. The passenger window whizzed down. “Get in,” her sister said.
    Stan obliged. The car sped away before she’d even completely closed her door.
    Â 
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    Caitlyn waited until they’d exited the hotel’s long driveway before leaning over to air kiss Stan. Her Jackie O sunglasses smacked Stan on the temple but she made no move to remove them. “Thanks for coming,” she said, before hitting the gas again, jerking Stan back against her seat. The one thing they had in common—aggressive driving skills.
    â€œNot a problem,” Stan said, adjusting her seat belt. “You look great. Your hair is different.” Stan regarded her sister from the side. Her blond hair was cut shorter in the back, left longer in the front, with red highlighted strands sweeping across her forehead. The colors accented her tanned skin. She wore a casual chic sundress in a vibrant teal. Stan bet on matching shoes and a matching purse somewhere in the car. Caitlyn always looked good. Then again, she spent most of her time at spas or shopping.
    â€œThanks,” Caitlyn said. “You do, too. It’s . . . been way too long.”
    Stan raised an eyebrow. Again, unlike her sister’s usual demeanor. Maybe she’d mellowed with age.
    â€œIt has. So where are we going?”
    â€œI thought we could get coffee.”
    â€œCoffee’s good. Where’s Eva?” Stan hadn’t seen her six-year-old niece since last year, which made her feel like a bad auntie. She sent the little girl a gift every Christmas and every March for her birthday, but without her presence that’s all it was—a gift from some faceless person.
    â€œWith her nanny.” Instead of heading into downtown Newport, Caitlyn drove down Ocean Avenue past First Beach, heading into Middletown. “I thought we could go somewhere quiet,” she said at Stan’s questioning look.
    Stan shrugged. “Fine with me.”
    Five minutes later, they pulled into the parking lot of a small, happy-looking café. The bright yellow building had a sign out front depicting smiling people standing next to a pile of coffee grounds holding letters that spelled out G ROUNDS OF H OPE .
    â€œThey support local charities,” Caitlyn said. “And the coffee is fabulous.” She shoved open her car door and got out, reaching into the backseat for her purse. Stan noted the matching shoes—Manolos, of course. Fabulous shoe taste did run in the family. Stan still loved her shoe collection, even though she didn’t dress up nearly as much these days.
    Stan got out of the car and followed her inside. Caitlyn took her glasses off, settling them on top of her head. Stan saw dark circles under her eyes beneath the perfect