Page 53 of Juniper Bean Resorts to Murder

I raise one skeptical brow at him, and he winks.

“My parents could have called me Dick.”

I laugh. That’s a fair point.

“I think I like him,” I say with a nod once Rocco has seen us out and closed the door behind us.

“Did you not like him before?” Aiden says.

I shrug. “It’s not that, necessarily. I wasn’t sure if I trusted him.”

“Because…?”

“Because he’s a fox. It’s my policy to be wary of charming men with eyes that blue.” Though I would be lying if I said I wasn’t still alittlewary. I only barely know the man from Adam.

Aiden’s nose wrinkles. “You realize you might be related to him—”

“I’m aware,” I say, cutting him off. “But thank you for the reminder.” Then I pull out my phone, pulling up Google and enteringLionel Astor beauty pageant.

“Bingo,” I whisper when the search results pop up.

“What?” Aiden says, leaning closer to peer at the screen. “Watch out, you’re going to trip.” He steers me through the yard and down the dirt driveway with one hand on my shoulder while I keep my nose buried in my phone, scrolling and reading as fast as possible.

“Look at this,” I say quietly, glancing over my shoulder to make sure Rocco is inside with the door closed. I’m not sure why, since he likely knows anyway, but whatever. “Lionel Astor has been a guest pageant judge for years.”

Aiden frowns, that little v-shaped crease appearing in his brow as he opens the passenger door for me. I get in, passing him the phone so he can see for himself.

He closes my door and then rounds the car, climbing in the driver’s side with his eyes still glued to the phone. I watch him scroll through photo after photo of Lionel—some of him sitting on a panel, some of him with his arms around pageant winners. I wait patiently as he starts typing and scrolling, typing and scrolling.

A moment later, he looks up at me, his face drained of color. “Your search history isobscene,” he says.

“Hey,” I say, frowning at him. “Why are you looking at that?” Then I add, “And what do you mean?” There shouldn’t be anything…you know…raunchyon there.

He drops his gaze back to the phone, sounding incredulous as he begins listing things off. “Let’s see. Best knives for sawing through bone, how to dissolve a body, where to buy lye—”

“Oh, that,” I say, waving one hand. “I’m a writer.”

He sighs and shakes his head. “Unbelievable,” he says. Then he looks at me, passing the phone back. “Sandy did pageants.”

“She did,” I say with a nod.

“Why was he involved with them?”

“As part of a cultural outreach charity he’s apparently on the board for,” I say. “The Idaho Cultural Enhancement and Scholarship Committee.”

“I—all right, look,” Aiden says with a sigh. He glances at my phone again while starting the car. “Doesn’t this all seem too obvious?”

“Kind of? But mostly it just feels like a lot of things lining up too well to be coincidence.”

“If you were writing this mystery, how would you do it?” Aiden says.

“Hmm.” That’s an interesting question. It doesn’t take long for me to find my answer. “If I were writing this, the culprit would have been the one person it seems itcan’tbe. The one with the rock-solid alibi. That person would be the key. However…” I bite my lip, thinking. “My culprit would also be the one with extensive hidden ties to the victim.” I look over at Aiden. “I don’t know about alibis or anything of the other guys, but it’s clear that Lionel Astor occupied at least some of the same circles as Sandy. It’s also glaringly obvious that a man running for governor would not want news of an illegitimate child to get out.”

Aiden just studies me for a moment. “You’re talking about all this like that man isn’t possibly your father.”

“I’m trying to stay detached,” I say, swallowing. “And look at the facts as they present themselves. Now let’s go home.” I turn my head, looking out the window. “I need to research Thomas Freese.” I shove aside the nagging little voice that reminds me about the other person in that photograph, the one we still haven’t found anything about: Cam Verido.

Thomas first, I decide, letting my head rest against the cool glass. I can only do one thing at a time.

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