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grunted, glad for the darkness.
    â€œSo how have you been? Had any more murders in Big Oak?”
    â€œNo more murders. The spring thaw was our biggest problem. We’ve had more than our share of snowmobile and car accidents and a lot of flooding.” Lark turned on the radio and they lapsed into silence, both thankful for the music to fill the void. Lark pulled up in front of the White Gull Inn ten minutes later.
    â€œSee you in the morning,” Lacey said as she got out of the car.
    â€œAre you playing golf with us in the morning?”
    â€œAnn and I are going to breakfast while you and John play. Ann hates golf.”
    â€œAmen,” Lark said as she slammed the car door and walked to her cottage.

Monday Morning
    May 28—White Gull Inn, Fish Creek, Wisconsin
    â€œFor the life of me, I don’t know why I agreed to go to breakfast this early in the morning,” Ann groused, as her eyes tried to take in Door County in the spring.
    Lilacs as tall as some of the houses bloomed in the yards along Highway 42. The purple tones of the lilacs and the last vestiges of the sunshine-colored daffodils stood out like jewels against the woods and shrubbery thickets surrounding the houses. Most of the trees had their new leaves. Their spring-green color combined with the lilacs and daffodils was almost overwhelming after a long winter of nothing but bare trees and snow-covered landscape to look at.
    The morning was still and warm so they had their windows rolled down drinking in the intoxicating smells of spring. Ann took in the beauty of the many apple and cherry trees just starting to bud out. Door County, famous for its cherry pie and jam, has thousands of acres of small fruit trees lined up in neat rows like regiments of soldiers marching along the roadsides. The orchards were interspersed with thick groves of hardwoods and evergreens and emerald green fields dotted with dairy cows. Every now and then they were tempted with a fleeting glimpse of the sparkling blue-gray waters of Green Bay through the trees.
    â€œYou could have stayed in bed.” John glanced at Ann in the rearview mirror. “I could have called Lacey for you. I’m sure she has plenty of work to do.”
    â€œWe could have gone to breakfast an hour or two later if you had been willing to move your tee time back,” Ann replied, sipping her diet Coke.
    â€œWe could have taken Lark’s car and left ours for you.”
    â€œYep.”
    â€œYep what?” John asked, glaring at her in the rearview.
    â€œYep, that would have worked,” Ann said, an edge to her voice.
    Lark turned around to look at her and started laughing. “You really aren’t a morning person are you?”
    â€œWhat clued you in?” Ann cracked a smile as they pulled up in front of the White Gull Inn.
    â€œSon of a bitch,” Lark said.
    Ann followed his stare and saw Lacey and Dr. Boskirk standing in front of her Grand Cherokee, sipping coffee and talking. They looked every inch the perfect couple in matching khaki pants, tennis shoes, and navy polo shirts. As John maneuvered the Explorer into a parking space, Ann watched Gene kiss Lacey lightly on the lips. He waved at them and got into a silver Land Rover parked behind Lacey’s SUV.
    After Gene pulled out, Lacey walked down to the Explorer and leaned down to Lark’s open window. “Joel wants to talk with you. Larsen went to surgery twice last night and died about an hour ago. He also had bruises on both of his upper arms; like maybe he was thrown off the cliff. He never regained consciousness. Sheriff Skewski asked us to take this case, and between this and the robberies, we’re swamped. Joel wants to put you on the payroll.”
    â€œI’m on vacation,” Lark snapped, looking straight ahead. “If I wanted to work, I would have stayed in Big Oak.”
    â€œFine.” Lacey threw up her hands in frustration. “I just thought I’d