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a party,” I said. “If anyone’s the host, it’s Chief Burke.”
    “And he knows better than to expect those two lots to get along,” Minerva Burke added. “You’re lucky—they’re behaving better than usual.”
    “It’s a long-standing thing, then?” I asked. “I just assumed they were carrying the croquet rivalry too far.”
    “Where have you been, girl?” Minerva said. “Obviously not clawing your way up in Caerphilly society.”
    “Trying to avoid it,” I said. “Why don’t they like each other?”
    “Mrs. Pruitt and her crowd make a big fuss about being descendants of the founding families of Caerphilly.”
    “And Mrs. Briggs and the clones aren’t from around here,” I said, nodding.
    “Worse—they make money bringing in more people who aren’t from around here,” Mrs. Burke said. “May Briggs’s husband built that development of town houses Mrs. Pruitt and her gang tried so hard to block. And Lady Pruitt still hasn’t forgiven the clones for selling a house in Westlake to that professional basketball player. They did manage to stay civil to one another in public until the whole outlet-mall thing broke.”
    “Outlet mall?” Mother asked, her keen shopper’s instincts coming to full alert.
    “There’s a rumor that Evan Briggs wants to build a big outlet mall in town,” I said.
    “More than a rumor,” Mrs. Burke said. “He and
the clones have put together a formal proposal. Three million square feet—larger than Potomac Mills, which might make it the largest in the country. Henrietta Pruitt’s leading the battle against it—the only useful thing I’ve seen her do in the four years we’ve been in town.”
    “Ah,” I said. “So that’s why they’ve all been so surly. Maybe I accidentally did something right, keeping them on different croquet fields all day. Probably prevented—well, who knows what.”
    I started to say bloodshed, then remembered Jane Doe.
    “So what if the murdered woman is allied to one side or the other in the battle over the outlet mall?” I said aloud. “That might make anyone on the other side a logical suspect. We just have to look for the connection.”
    “If you find one, I’m sure Henry would be much obliged for the information,” Mrs. Burke said, her tone sharper than usual.
    “Naturally.”
    “How nice,” Mother said. No doubt she’d heard Mrs. Burke’s tone and thought another social rift needed mending. “I know Meg always enjoys assisting the police in their investigations—isn’t that what they call it?”
    “Usually, when the police say that, it means they’re about to arrest the person, Mother,” I said. “I’ll just try not to get in the chief’s way.”
    “I’m surprised you two aren’t involved in the mall issue,” Mrs. Burke said, dragging the conversation
back to safe ground. “Considering how it affects you.”
    “Affects us?” I echoed. “What do you mean?” Though I had a sinking feeling I already knew.
    “Well, they haven’t named the location,” Mrs. Burke said. “But if you look at the documents and know which local farmers haven’t signed the protest petition—”
    “Don’t tell me,” I said. “Mr. Shiffley’s selling them his farm.”

 
     
    Chapter Six
    I glared over at Mrs. Briggs and the clones. Then, for good measure, at the nearest Shiffleys. They were a close-knit clan; they had to know what their uncle was up to. Yet here they were, helping us beggar ourselves to fix up a house that might soon have the world’s largest outlet mall in its backyard.
    I figured I should volunteer to join Mrs. Pruitt’s battle against the mall, even if it meant seeing more of her. If she was so gung ho on fighting the mall, why hadn’t she enlisted Michael and me?
    And in case Mrs. Pruitt and company lost the battle, shouldn’t we halt all this expensive construction until we knew if we’d want to keep living here?
    I looked up, to see Mrs. Burke studying me.
    “Sorry,” I said. “That’s a