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Gertie said. “If you don’t mind.”
    “Of course I don’t mind.”  
    As we walked down the sidewalk, Gertie clutched my arm, bringing me to a stop. “We have to get her out of there.”
    “It’s just questioning,” I said. “She’ll probably be done in a couple of hours.”
    “And if she’s not?”
    “Then we’ll deal with it then.”
    Gertie’s lower lip trembled. “I’ve got a really bad feeling this time—one I never got with Pansy or Marie.”
    I felt the same way, but I wasn’t about to admit it. That would only make Gertie even more anxious, and she was hovering around heart attack range already.  
    I patted her on the back. “You’re just feeling that way because you and Ida Belle are so close.”
    A small sliver of hope passed over Gertie’s face as she reached up to give my hand a squeeze before continuing to her car. As I watched her walk away, I said a silent prayer that my own intuition was dead wrong.  
     

 
    Chapter Three
     
    I’d just finished breakfast when my cell phone signaled I had a message. I picked it up and my pulse quickened when I saw it was from my friend Ally, who should be neck-deep in breakfast service at Francine’s Café.  
    re: Ida Belle There’s a mob outside the police station.  
    Hell! I grabbed the keys to my Jeep and hurried into the garage, pressing in Gertie’s number as I jumped in the driver’s seat.  
    “I’m picking you up in two minutes,” I said as soon as Gertie answered. “I’ll explain when I get there.”
    Before she could utter a single word, I disconnected the call and threw the Jeep in reverse. As I squealed away from the curb, my mind whirled with all the reasons a mob might be assembled. But unless it was a “Free Ida Belle” movement, I had serious doubts it was going to be good news.
    Gertie was standing at the curb when I screeched to a halt. She attempted a quick leap inside the Jeep, but the weight of her enormous handbag set her off balance and she ended up sprawling across the passenger’s seat and my lap. It took a bit of work to get her upright and her handbag straps unwound from the stick shift, but with minimal embarrassment and a brief apology, we were finally on our way.
    I filled Gertie in on Ally’s text as I drove. Based on her grim expression, I could tell she wasn’t expecting anything good, either.  
    But what we saw as I pulled onto Main Street was even worse than we expected.
    Paulette stood in front of the police station, wailing like a wounded cat and screaming for justice. Sheriff Lee, who was probably old enough to be Paulette’s great-great-great-great grandfather, was trying to reason with her, but a 200-year-old man didn’t have a chance against a thirtysomething emotionally bent woman.
    Hell, short of knocking her out, I wasn’t sure what would improve the situation.
    A crowd of people were assembled behind Paulette, all grumbling and shaking their fists at the sheriff. I parked in front of the café and as we approached the crowd, I could begin to make out some of the comments.
    “This town used to be safe!”
    “How many murderers can one town have?”
    “What the hell are we paying you for?”
    As we approached the crowd, one of the angry protestors caught sight of me and shook his fist. “Things like this never happened before Yankees came to town.”
    Five feet eleven, two hundred eighty pounds of flab, high blood pressure, incredibly low IQ.
    “Given that the victim is also a Yankee,” I said, “I fail to see your point.”
    His face turned a bit red but my logic didn’t stop him from blustering on. “You know exactly what I mean.”
    I raised one eyebrow at him. “Are you saying he was killed because he’s a Yankee? If that’s the case, then I’m the one who should be worried, not you.”
    “No, damn it! That’s not what I’m saying at all.”
    “Really?” I asked, intent on carrying the absurdity as far as he was willing to travel. “Because that would make sense