Stella stood back from the window listening on the phone. Her attention was split between the nervous caller and Roger, who was bagging leaves and twigs they had raked from the lawn around the cottage. She scowled when he dropped the rake and yanked his pants back up over his butt and wondered what the attraction had been when they first met in Vegas. He was an easy mark for marriage, that's why. If she had known back then what a pig he was she might have looked harder.

Elwood's whining brought her back and she placed her mouth against the phone.

"You have to be mad calling me here," She spat.

"What was I supposed to do? He knows, I'm sure."

"He doesn't know anything. He's guessing, Elwood, nothing more. There is no way he can know unless you tell him."

"But he pointed out the discrepancy!"

"You told him it was for cleaning up didn't you?"

"Yes but then he wanted to know who did it!"

Roger tossed his rake on the grass again and lumbered up toward the house. "I have to go. I'll call you later. Don't say another word to anyone." Stella closed her phone and hurried into the bathroom just as Roger barged in the door.

"Where the hell are you? I thought this was a job for both of us?"

"I'm in the bathroom, Rog. Be out in a minute. Sorry."

"Sorry, shit," he muttered heading for the fridge and a cold beer.

Elwood hung up slowly and chewed on his lip. He had been an idiot letting Stella talk him into her scheme. Charging the students extra and then passing the money onto her seemed nothing special at the time, he didn't even understand the reason... but now... The result of that decision suddenly made him squirm and he shot a glance at his receptionist in case she noticed his distress.

Stella had always gone along with his flirting, sometimes to the point that he actually thought they might get together, but it turned out to be nothing more than flirting on her part. It wasn't until she came with the lease papers that it went from the usual tease to an outright overture, which he greedily accepted right there in his office. The experience thoroughly controlled him; he enjoyed most of it with his eyes closed. Only when it was over did she show him the image captured on her cell phone camera.

"Just a little insurance for your discretion, Woody," she had said. What had he been thinking? He slapped his forehead at the memory. What he was always thinking, that was his problem.

******

Hilda Meyers sounded like a jolly, plump aunt, more than happy to help a stranger with a problem. Without a qualm she'd given Ray the home phone number of Carol Walther and wished him a pleasant day as she hung up. He chuckled at how easily some people treated personal information. Carol Walther was a different animal. She questioned Ray more than he had the opportunity to question her but in the end agreed to retell what she saw and what had happened as far as she knew.

The car—and Carol insisted there was one—was revealed to have been a sedan, by the silhouette, and that it had something on the roof like racks for skis or luggage. When he asked her how come that wasn't in her statement she snapped back that it certainly had been; the police just didn't want to listen because they found no evidence of a vehicle being parked there.

After a few more testy replies, Carol closed with a request he not bother her again and hung up. Ray figured that if she had been that bitchy it was no wonder the cops hadn't wanted to listen. He thought about the roof racks and circled the note in his binder as he lay down on the bed.

Next he made a note about Peters pushing the council to shift responsibility for the investigation out of the bay area. Was that because of his activity at the bank? Did he keep the five hundred? Pretty gutsy if it was his idea. What was he hiding? What else was he hiding? He thought about Irene's problem and whether he should get involved or not. He'd love to bring the little snot down a peg or ten. Maybe later. The sun was heating up his room and he got up and opened the window, taking in the sweet smell of green from the park across the road and the faint scent of the water.

Robins were bouncing around among darting finches, all scrabbling for bits of food and nesting materials in the park. A large dog bounded into their midst, scattering the group and it stopped, tail wagging, and let out a throaty bark. He returned to the bed and examined what he knew, which was not nearly as much as what he didn't. A niggle in his mind placed the local police, the O'Hares and Elwood Peters all together somehow but he had no idea as to why. Hersch was dead so that let him out of the current picture.

There was Stella's relationship with the cop, Williams. Was it over as Duffy suggested or did staying pals with Roger provide them with greater opportunity? Elwood fit into that group somehow he was sure. The slip he'd made over her name suggested something more than banker client. Maybe he was scamming the extra money for her in exchange for favours. Were they an item as well? He wouldn't bet against it after meeting her.

What did it all have to do with Adelaide? Anything? Nothing? He closed the binder and rubbed a hand over his face. Irene appeared in his thoughts and he felt himself becoming defensive over the undeniable attraction. His stomach rumbled and Irene was replaced with a hunger pang. He looked at the time and realized he'd miss lunch downstairs if he didn't go right away. The expected eye roll from Ada as he entered the dining room prompted another apology but apparently since he was becoming a long-term stay he was allowed certain small indiscretions.

Irene was working but in the kitchen and Ada was doing the serving. Wednesdays seemed to be busier for some reason and Ray noticed some of the people he'd seen around town eating what appeared to be similar dishes. He picked up the menu and discovered that Wednesday was senior's day for both lunch and dinner and the fare was limited to two choices for each meal: the Thompson Bay chili or a Bayfront Chicken Salad for lunch and the mushroom quiche or Ada's Pasta Supreme for dinner.

Ray chose the chili and planned to seek out another restaurant for dinner.

******

Garth Williams swore to himself as he slammed the file cabinet drawer. Somehow the son-of-a-bitch had gotten hold of the folder on Adelaide Balfour. It had to be Howard, the silly old bugger. He sat at his desk and tried to recall if any of the information suggested negligence on their part. The provincials hadn't complained he knew, but then they were doing it all from scratch anyway. They probably ignored anything Thompson Bay uncovered... which was nothing really. If this guy got too nosey certain things might just find the sunlight. Stella O'Hare had better stick to her guns.

The door opened and John Primeau, Theo's replacement, came in, dropping his hat on his desk and heading straight for the coffee pot.

"I think this summer is going to be one bastard all right." John Primeau came from another small community closer to the city where, unlike Thompson Bay, air conditioning had made huge strides.

"You guys are nothin' but a bunch of sissies. It's only April. Wait 'till the black flies come out." Garth snorted.

John drank his coffee black and gave a bored nod to the reprimand. His short dark hair shone from a liberal glaze of gel and the slim moustache he was cultivating split the distance between his nose and his lip, looking ridiculous, in Garth's eyes.

"Anything new happening?"

Garth made a face. He didn't think about his new partner one way or another but he bore watching; his attention to the job was a lot more responsible than Garth cared for. He didn't need any, behind his back questions, when he went about his business. He feigned indifference and answered.

"Argument over a leaf blower makin' too much noise. One old geyser hurled a handful of fertilizer in his neighbour's kisser."

"Oooh, big time crime," John teased. "Hope I don't flunk out of Thompson Bay's war on fertilizer and leaf blower noise."

"Ever occur to you the reason we don't have your big time crime is because of the Thompson Bay police?"

"Right, and I'm Gary Cooper."

"Huh? Who?"

"Gary Cooper. High Noon? Jeez, Williams this place is in the boonies."

The phone jangled, cutting off Garth's retort. "Thompson Bay police. Uh- oh uhm, just a sec." He turned to John. "This is private, you mind?" John did but he left the room anyway.

Garth made sure he was out of earshot and answered nervously. "Stella, what's up?"

"Elwood is getting cold feet because of this Simmons character."

"What happened?" She told him and he listened with growing concern.

"He's not reliable, Garth. If he blurts out anything about that rental money you and I are in big trouble." Garth pictured Elwood's prissy face and growled inside. "Can you talk to him, Garth? Calm him down?"

"I'll see what I can do. Where's Roger?"

"He's outside raking garden crap. I'm supposed to be helping but I'm in the bathroom... again."

"When can I see you?"

"Oh God, I don't know, Garth. He's so controlling. I'll see if I can get away to do some shopping later. He's coming! I have to go."

Garth hung up and swore again. Elwood needs more than a good talking to, he thought.