Page 12 of Skin and Bones

Dash glanced toward the windows and looked out onto the empty street, then back at me, his expression serious. “A cold case. Something from before my time, but…something that needs resolving.”

My curiosity was fully piqued now. “And you think five senior citizens and their true crime book club can help where the authorities couldn’t?”

“Sometimes fresh eyes are exactly what a case needs,” he said. “Especially eyes with their specific skills.”

I studied him for a moment. There was something he wasn’t saying, something in the tension around his eyes and the careful way he chose his words.

Chowder let out a soft woof and padded his way into the kitchen and the delivery entrance.

“That must be Mrs. Wexler with the pastry delivery,” I said, setting my tea down again before I could drink it. “Do you need me to contact them?”

“If you don’t mind,” he said. “If they’re busy we’ll find another time.”

“Oh, they won’t be busy,” I said. “Not for this.”

“Thank you,” he said. “I appreciate it.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” I warned him. “You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into with that bunch.”

He smiled then, a real smile that reached his eyes. “I think I can handle a few enthusiastic retirees.”

I laughed despite myself. “Famous last words, Sheriff. Famous last words.”

I was so full of anticipation and nerves that I flipped the closed sign over fifteen minutes early and shooed out the last lingering customer, telling him I had a family emergency and to come back another day for a free pastry.

Walt arrived just as I was about to close the door.

“You’re the first to arrive,” I said.

“Shame,” he said. “People have no consideration of time nowadays. On time is late. If I’ve said it once I’ve said it a thousand times.” He wore a blazer with a crisp white shirt and carried a battered leather satchel that looked like it had survived at least two wars and a hurricane. “Where do you want us to set up?”

“Your usual table?” I suggested.

Walt shook his head. “Too exposed. We’re sure to be the talk around town if people see us two nights in a row with the sheriff. The corner table is best.” He pointed to the most secluded spot in the shop. “Less chance of someone peering through the window. You should get blinds. If you had blinds we could close them.”

“Hmm,” I said, because I couldn’t think of anything better. Someone was getting a little too caught up in the sheriff’s game.

Deidre was the next to arrive, her wild silver curls flying and her tote bag hitched over her shoulder. “Walt’s in espionage mode, isn’t he?” she asked, spotting him rearranging my furniture.

“I shudder to think what he’s got in that briefcase,” I said.

She sighed. “I brought a bottle of wine and some aspirin. I’m thinking we’ll need both.”

Dottie and Hank came in together like usual, arguing, like usual. I’d come to realize that was their own form of entertainment.

“—at least three weeks, based on the bloating,” Dottie was saying.

“Unless there was unusual tidal activity,” Hank countered.

“Do you two ever discuss normal things?” I asked. “Like weather or sports or literally anything that doesn’t involve dead bodies?”

They both looked at me blankly.

“What’s the fun in that?” Dottie asked, genuinely confused.

I just shook my head and went to put on a fresh pot of tea.

Bea swept in last, wearing turquoise pants and a flowing top with enough sparkly bits to function as emergency reflectors. Her arm jingled with at least a dozen bangles, and her oversized purse made a suspicious clinking sound.

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