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“What’s that?” Chloe asked.

“An artifact,” Tegan replied.

Quickly, I enlightened Chloe about the Clovis culture and their hunting methods.

Tegan regarded me. “You know, Reika Moore is savvy about artifacts. You’ve seen the ones she has hanging in her home, including spears, axes, knives, grinding tools, and bowls.”

Tegan and I’d been to Reika’s home on two occasions to attend events in support of the history museum.

“Her ancestors unearthed most of them with their own hands,” Tegan went on. “She might have a clue about who else in town owned or collected them.”

Besides Detective Bates,I mused.

“But the murder weapon was mine.” I affixed the final Post-it note.

“You aren’t certain,” Tegan countered.

“Yours? No!” Chloe looked astonished. “Why do you have spearpoints?”

I explained how the previous owners had left everything in the house to my parents.

She shook her head. “The whole affair is awful. Murder. It’s senseless. Jason was so vibrant. I think the mall he planned to build might have been good for Bramblewood. I know you didn’t want him to build it, Allie—”

“Don’t say that.”

“But you didn’t. You were against it.”

“I got over myself,” I assured her. After all, we couldn’t stop progress. “And you’re right. He was vibrant and smart, and he didn’t deserve to die.”

Tears welled in Chloe’s eyes, and she fled to the stockroom. Like Vanna, she’d clearly had a crush on Jason.

“Tegan”—I clapped my hands together, eager to put the whole thing out of my mind—“where do you want me to start with our shelf swap?”

“Let’s move the romance section to the nonfiction section, and vice versa.”

“Do you think it’s wise?” I asked. “I mean, we’re talking completely different kinds of readers. How about romance and fantasy instead?”

“Good idea.”

Together, with me on the rolling ladder and Tegan manning the book trolley—I was dressed more casually, and she’d worn a summery blue dress and wedge sandals she’d bought on sale Saturday—we took the fantasy titles off the top shelf. They weren’t in alphabetical order. By design, they were the most requested titles.The Bookseller of Inverness, The Dragon Queen, Chain of Thorns.Tegan had read all of them and had gushed overThe Keeper Chroniclestrilogy. If I’d let her, she would have told me the entire tale of how the storytellers, historians, and magic-wielders—aka the Keepers—fought Mallon the Undying.

When I’d said, “Too much information,” she’d countered, “The blurb will have to suffice.”

After we removed the entire row of books, we carted them to the romance section and repeated the action, removing the top row of romance titles, which included the Bridgerton series,Ransomby Julie Garwood, andLove at First Bookby Jenn McKinlay. I’d read and enjoyed the latter, because I’d devoured many of McKinlay’s mysteries.Love at First Bookwas abouta librarian who traveled to the quaint Irish village where her favorite novelist lived, and lo and behold, she fell for the guy’s son. Talk about a fantasy! But it was fun.

Tegan said, “Back to Jason …”

I groaned.

“Hear me out. I’ve been thinking about who would’ve wanted to frame you for the murder.” She led the way to the fantasy section, where I situated the romance novels on the top shelf and tackled the removal of the second row of titles. “All kidding aside, who hates you so much?”

Patrick didn’t, as far as I knew. Did that rule him out?

“I’ve been wondering the same thing.” Chloe rounded the corner with two bottles of water. Her makeup was streaked, and her eyes were puffy. She must have cried hard. “Thirsty?” she asked.

I thanked her for the water and immediately downed mine. I handed the empty bottle back to her.

Tegan noticed Chloe’s tear-stained face. “Kiddo, take a break. Walk around the block or something.”