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could safely rule out Braxton or Boone involvement in our present predicament. We were here because of carelessness on the part of the guy who had last changed the oil, or perhaps even because of a simple mechanical malfunction. These things happen.
    Which didn’t mean the Braxtons or Boone Morrison wouldn’t take advantage of our sitting-duck situation if they caught up with us here in Hello . . .
    But what to do? I didn’t want to get Nick into trouble for illicitly harboring two women and a cat on his property, but where could we go? And where, I wondered again, was Abilene? It’d be dark before long.
    I poured a cup of tea, dumped some liver-flavored crunchies in a bowl for Koop, and sat down to think again.
    I had a little money in a CD, but I needed the small amount of interest income it supplied to supplement my Social Security. There’d also be a painful penalty to pay if I took anything out of the CD. And there was always the possibility of some even more drastic emergency than this one for which I’d need the money. It might be me going thumpety-thump-clank-clank-clunk next time, and there was a big gap between Medicare coverage and total medical costs. But what other solution was there?
    Sitting on a street corner with a sign reading “Will work for motor home engine” did not strike me as a likely solution. Nor, in spite of Ben Simpson’s generous assessment, did I think I had a big future as a chorus-line dancer.
    So, some mundane job in Hello until we saved up enough to pay for an engine transplant? I’d had a couple of housekeeping/caretaking type jobs recently, and I had been a librarian back in Missouri for some thirty years. I’m industrious, dependable, and curious. Also a reasonably quick learner.
    Character traits which, I suspect, could also describe anything from a con artist selling snake oil to a bag lady going through dumpsters, and I don’t see many job openings for either.
    I’m also rather over-the-hill in the eyes of most employers.
    Feel free to jump in here anytime, Lord. Got any ideas?
    And where is Abilene? She should have been back by now.
    A vehicle pulled up outside, and I peered out the window. I was surprised to see Kelli Keifer’s muddy Bronco, even more surprised when she headed for the motor home door rather than Nick’s shop. I opened it before she knocked. The sun had dropped over the mountains now, turning them to cold blue silhouettes. Kelli wasn’t wearing the sunglasses now. An icy breeze tousled her long blond hair.
    “Hi,” she said. She didn’t strike me as an uncertain sort of person, but there was something tentative about the greeting. Perhaps as if, given her status as Hello’s designated murderess, she wasn’t certain of her welcome?
    “Hi.” I tried to sound friendly.
    Then words came out all in a rush. “Maybe it’s none of my business, but I got to thinking after I left . . . You’re going to need someplace to stay after tonight, right? Apparently you’re stuck here for a while, and I got the impression your finances might be—” She broke off as if not wanting to sound nosy or insulting.
    “Shaky?” I suggested. “Tight?”
    “Whatever.”
    “I’m afraid so. Definitely tight and shaky finances.”
    “Anyway, I have a house. It’s empty, and I wouldn’t charge anything if you’d like to stay in it for a while.”
    “A free place to live?” I asked, astonished. “Just like that, you’d let us stay in your house? You don’t even know us.”
    “I know you were honest enough to tell me you and Ben were gossiping about me. And nice enough to apologize. No one else has done that. You and your cat don’t look like you’d throw big, drunken parties and wreck the place. Not that wrecking it would probably be much of a loss, under the circumstances.”
    “The circumstances being this was the house in which your uncle was murdered?” I guessed. “And everyone is acting as if it’s tainted?”
    She smiled. “I should have known