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blackmail,
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slowly, "for one thing, there's a misspelled word in the note."
"A dumb crook. Now there's a surprise. What else?"
I almost smiled. "This afternoon I met someone else who's been blackmailed. She's a retired ballet dancer. But she has money, and I don't."
"Anything else?"
"I—I think the pictures came in the same kind of envelope that was found with Rush Strawcutter's body."
"Okay."
"And I found a stack of the same envelopes in Kitty Keough's desk drawer."
"I won't ask why you were digging through her desk, but this is good stuff. Could the Keough lady be your blackmailer?"
"She's got the right personality." Hearing my tone of voice, Spike growled on the floor at my feet. I reached down and scratched his ears. The churning in my mind began to make sense. "And Kitty would love it if I suffered a misfortune."
"What's her connection to the ballet dancer?"
"I don't know. Except, well, there's a good chance she's dating Rush Strawcutter's business partner.
"Partners can be the death of anybody."
I picked up the envelope and carried it through the butler's pantry and the dining room. Spike followed in case I bumped into any dragons he could slay for me. I turned on the living room lights and curled up in my favorite chair with the phone pinned between my shoulder and my ear. Spike hopped onto my lap. "The partner, the man Kitty's dating, is in huge financial trouble right now." I started to tell Michael about Tottie Boarman's activities.
"I know about Boarman," Michael said. "I read the papers. He's one of those well-dressed felons. You know," he added, "crimes that happen at the same time tend to be connected."
"Do you think so?"
"I know so."
"Well," I said without asking how he had come by his insider knowledge, "Tottie Boarman made a big loan to Rush." I put my feet up on the arm of the chair and tried to put the puzzle pieces in place. "The common denominator in all this seems to be Rush, doesn't it?"
"Yep."
"Rush used to date the dancer, too. Did I mention that?"
"Yes, it all ties together somehow, doesn't it? Call your friend in law enforcement," Michael advised. "Maybe he can make the connection."
I cuddled Spike. "You, of all people, are suggesting I go to the police?"
"This is the kind of crime the police excel at. Blackmail attracts white-collar types, so the work of finding them in suburbia isn't dangerous. And unlike your garden-variety extortionist, blackmailers are emotional. They make mistakes. They're easy to catch because the shakedown requires them—"
"To show up in person to get the money?"
"Smart girl. Extortion, on the other hand, usually involves broken bones and nervous guys with big guns."
I shivered. "You know how I feel about guns."
"And justifiably so." His voice continued to soothe. "Give Detective Gloom a call. Believe me, I'm not happy to suggest he could help you, but he'll probably do something useful." In a different tone, he added, "Since this is an easy way for him to look like a hero, he'll probably jump at the chance."
"I'm afraid to talk to him. For fear he'll find a way to tie all this to Emma."
"Hm. Good point."
A moment passed while we considered the problem. I relaxed deeper into my chair and noted that Michael didn't sound perplexed. On the contrary, he seemed to enjoy the Machiavellian challenge of outsmarting a criminal. It allowed him to open a little-used valve in the back of his mind. For the moment, though, he asked, "How's Spike?"
"Not housebroken yet." I rubbed Spike's tummy, and he blinked innocently up at me before closing his eyes in bliss. "If I go to the police, I'll expose Tim to everything I'm trying to protect him from."
"Tim? That's the doctor?"
"He's a very nice person. He's— Well, his wife was hurt in a skiing accident. It's so sad. He stuck by her, visits her every day despite a full load at the hospital and being up for an important new job. Plus he's got a daughter to raise himself. She's sweet, too. You'd like them both."
"Think
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