“Watch it.”

  “Don’t worry, Mayor. I will. I most definitely will.”

  I gave Mayor Jenkins just a little bit of a wink then walked to the door. I could feel her eyes boring through the back of my head. I spun around for the parting shot.

  “By the way, Mayor. Where were you the night Sheriff Kline was killed?”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “No, it’s a reasonable question. The kind that innocent people never have a problem answering.”

  “Do you have any idea who you’re dealing with?”

  “Someone who doesn’t sound very innocent right now.”

  “Hope. I was at home. You realize in the middle of the night, most people are at home.”

  “Good bye, Mayor Jenkins. And let me know if you hear anything about that cabin.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  I spent the rest of the day going through Earl Denton’s file on Mayor Jenkins, and a pretty clear picture was emerging. Wilma Jenkins was trying to quietly buy up the properties on what locals called the tree side of Moose Peak. After her shadow businesses gobbled them all up, she and some investors were going to bulldoze the cabins, clear cut much of the old growth forest at the base of the mountain and build a luxury ski resort called Sawtooth Mountain.

  And if she could also convince the citizens of Hopeless to change their name to Delightful? Earl Denton was right. Wilma Jenkins was ambitious. She didn’t just want to be the most powerful person in Hopeless. She wanted to completely reshape the town and become filthy stinking rich in the process.

  What she was doing was sneaky and maybe a bit ruthless. But I wasn’t sure it was illegal. But one thing was clear, she and Sheriff Kline didn’t see eye to eye. Earl Denton had notes from over a dozen public meetings of the city board over the last eighteen months. The members of the board were Mayor Jenkins, Dean Lomax from the college, Sheriff Kline, Todd Hamilton, whose family owned the Hamilton Mill outside of town, and Gloria Bendon, the superintendent of Hopeless Schools.

  From Earl’s notes, one thing was clear. Over the last eighteen months, Mayor Jenkins and Sheriff Kline butted heads on a variety of issues about Hopeless and its future. In the last three months, two of the meetings had resulted in shouting matches. Something else was clear. Mayor Jenkins had been on the losing end of several 3-2 decisions and the sides were almost always the same. Sheriff Kline, Mr. Hamilton, and Superintendent Bendon on one side and Mayor Jenkins and Dean Lomax on the other. I thought back to how close the two were getting after dinner at Granny’s the other night. Dean Lomax might be a notorious bachelor, but Mayor Jenkins was married. And it made me wonder.

  I picked up the next batch of notes, from a meeting just two weeks ago. But this one was different from the others. All Earl wrote was “Closed to the Public”. I called Earl at his house to see if he knew anything about the actual meeting.

  “I went to the city building on the third Wednesday of the month to cover the city board meeting like I usually do. But when I got there, Dean Lomax told me that Mayor Jenkins had requested a private meeting.”

  “Does that happen a lot?”

  “Back in the day, sometimes. But I’d never seen Wilma Jenkins request a private meeting before.”

  “And do you know what was discussed?” I asked.

  “I meant to follow up with Sheriff Kline but, well with him—”

  “Being dead and all?”

  “Precisely.”

  “Okay, thanks, Earl.”

  “I guess I’ll see you at the funeral tomorrow. You’ve had a long week. You should probably get some rest.”

  “I will, Earl. But I have another phone call to make first.”

  I dialed a Portland number and only had to wait one ring before it was answered.

  “Hope, is that you?”

  “In the flesh, Darwin. I’ve got a rush job for you.”

  Darwin was the best researcher I knew. By day he was an IT guy at the News Gazette. But he also was a brilliant researcher who had a way of finding needles inside of digital haystacks.

  “You got fired.”

  “I did.”

  “And you never said goodbye.”

  “Because I was already in Idaho when Henry told me I was fired. Are you going to help me or not?”

  “The last time I helped you, you promised to be my best friend.”

  “And what do you call this?”

  “I call this you asking me for another favor.”

  “Darwin, I am a hundred percent not even messing with you. If you help me this time, then I will not only be your best friend, I’ll be your girlfriend.”

  “You’re messing with me.”

  “I’m serious, Darwin. I’ll wear makeup around you. Possibly shower. We can go for long drives. Hold hands at work. I can cut your sandwiches into cute little shapes and leave love notes in your lunchbox.”

  “That’s what girlfriends do? I’ve never had a girlfriend before.”

  “Well, do this favor for me, and you’ve got yourself a girlfriend.”

  “It really sounds like you’re messing with me.”

  “Darwin, are you gonna help me or not?”

  His silence on the other end worried me. But finally, I heard him sigh. “Fine, Hope, what do you need?”

  “A company called Blue Sky Development. They’re out of Las Vegas. I need to know who owns it.”

  Unlike Granny’s fake funeral at the bar, Sheriff Kline’s real funeral was a dignified and solemn affair at the Methodist Church. And even though most people in Hopeless couldn’t stand the guy, just about everyone showed up to pay their respects.

  Because in a small town, that’s just what you do.

  I washed the dress I’d worn to Granny’s funeral, took a shower, kept the Cheeto dust to a minimum and avoided hooker lipstick. I felt downright regal. And to Pastor Leif’s credit, Sheriff Kline’s funeral was a stately affair. Members of Boy Scout Troop 439 served as pallbearers. Margaret Kline laid a wreath of flowers on her husband’s casket. Pastor Leif spoke about honor and duty and a boy named Eddie who dreamed of one day being a sheriff. At the cemetery, an old bugle player wearing his national guard uniform played a heart wrenching version of Taps.

  Afterward, all of Hopeless descended on the Methodist Church’s social hall where Grub had agreed to serve a funeral buffet to the people celebrating Ed’s life. Granny agreed to bring the drinks.

  Katie and I were halfway through our bottles of Stella when I noticed Mayor Jenkins and Dean Lomax were, once again, up in each other’s business, far too close together and was it necessary for the mayor to whisper in his ear?

  “I think they’re having an affair,” I said to Katie.

  “This isn’t the third grade, Hope. A boy and a girl can talk without it being a major event.”

  I looked around the room for Wilma’s husband and saw him bellied up to the buffet grabbing himself a heaping plate of sausage and eggs and making some sort of breakfast burrito.

  When I turned back, Wilma was gone and Dean Lomax was sipping on a glass of red wine. I decided that was my chance.

  “Excuse me, Miss Rodgers. Time for me to get my investigative reporter on.” Katie rolled her eyes until she saw Dominic chasing Lucy with a butter knife and ran after them.

  “Don’t tell me you’re actually drinking Granny’s Two Buck Chuck?”

  Dean Lomax gave me a withering look. “I would rather eat mouse droppings and pig dung—which is what experts have concluded Two Buck Chuck is derived from.”

  I side-eyed his wineglass.

  “Yes, I brought my own wine. To a funeral. I admit it.”

  “That’s a bold move, Dean Lomax. Hey, I’ve got a quick question for you.”

  He took a sip of his fancy wine. “Sure thing.”

  “The closed-door meeting of the city board two weeks ago? What was it about?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Well, normally, city meetings are open to the public. But I understand that Mayor Jenkins requested a closed-door meeting. I can go through the rigmarole of filing an access to information request with the proper authorities, or maybe you could just tell me what it was all about.”

  Dean Lomax rolled his eyes. “It’s really not a big deal. Mayor Jenkins wanted to discuss the possibility of adding an intersection and four-way stop about two miles outside of town on highway 15.”

  “Why?”

  “It had to do with a project she was hoping to attract to the area.”

  “Which was?”

  He shrugged. “She’s under a nondisclosure agreement so she couldn’t disclose. But she said it would represent a significant investment in our area.”

  “How significant?”

  “Millions. Many, many millions.”

  “And was anything decided?”

  “You mean did we vote on it?”

  I nodded.

  “As a matter of fact, we did. And like most progressive things in this town, the have nots decided it. 3—2.”

  “The have nots?”

  “It’s a joke between Wilma and me. It’s what we call Mr. Hamilton, Superintendent Bendon and Sheriff Kline. Or rather, called Sheriff Kline. Over the last year those three seemed to vote down every single new idea that Wilma or I brought to the table. They wouldn’t have any of it. That’s why they’re the have nots. It would seem they want Hopeless to stay the way it’s been for the last thirty years.”

  “What do you know about Sawtooth Mountain?”

  He shrugged again. “Never heard of it.”

  “I find that hard to believe.”

  “Why? I’m a dean, not a mountaineer.”

  “It’s just that you and Mayor Jenkins seem so close.”

  “We are close. We’ve agreed that the town and college can work together to build a better future for both.”

  “You seem a lot closer than that.”

  The color drained from his face.

  “Just what are you getting at?”

  “I’ll be straight, Dean Lomax.”

  “I think I’d appreciate that.”

  “Are you and Mayor Jenkins having an affair?”

  I’d never seen anyone’s face change colors so quickly. The color that had just vanished from his face stormed back with a vengeance.

  “Why would you say such a thing?”

  “Because I’m a woman and I see the way she looks at you and acts around you and well, you are single.”

  “Conjecture and innuendo? The way someone looks at another? Maybe you’re not the investigator I thought you were.”

  “So, you’re saying you’re not having an affair with the Mayor?”

  “No,” he snapped. “I am not. Nor would I ever have an affair with that woman. I don’t know what you’re trying to do, but I assure you, I am not the one who’s going to get you your answers. Now, is that all?”

  My phone buzzed. A text message from Darwin. I smiled when I read it. “Yes, Dean Lomax, I think that’s all.”

  I went back to the bar and reread the texts. Darwin really was the best researcher I knew. Was it a little mean that I kept promising things that were never in his wildest dreams going to happen? I prefer to think of it as giving the poor guy a little hope. Besides, Darwin was happy to help. At least, that’s what I told myself.

  I followed the series of texts. As usual, he had to tell me exactly how he got each piece of information in the chain. It made him feel smarter. But then I came to the very last one—the punch line, so to speak. And I had to read it twice before it sunk in. When it did, it did indeed feel like a punch line. A punch in the gut sort of line.

  I stood there, trying to figure out what it all meant.

  And that’s when someone grabbed my shoulder, hard.

  I spun around to find Wilma Jenkins in my face. She was not happy.

  “This stops now, Hope Walker!”

  “I hope so, Mayor Jenkins, because I just got some interesting information.”

  “And I was just informed by Dean Lomax that you accused us of having an affair with each other!”

  It was just like the movies where someone says something so loud and uncomfortable that everybody around stops what they’re doing in order to listen.

  Grub stopped serving food at the Buffet. Granny and Bess stopped serving drinks. Even Margaret Kline stopped talking to someone in the receiving line. All eyes were on us. All ears too.

  “Let me be clear for everyone listening,” said the mayor in what was almost a shriek. “Dean Lomax and I are not having an affair. Your wild accusation is nasty, irresponsible and frankly, young lady, actionable.”

  “If you and Dean Lomax say you’re not having an affair then I believe you. But as for wild accusations, I’m just getting started.”

  She raised an eyebrow.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about Sawtooth Mountain.”

  Mayor Jenkins’s eyes got big and her mouth opened and closed in a picture-perfect goldfish imitation.

  That was my cue. “You’re probably right. Nobody around here really cares about who’s having an affair with whom. But I think most people would be interested to know that you’ve been hiding behind a secret corporation with the singular purpose of buying all the properties on the tree side of Moose Peak.”

  That caused a ripple in the crowd.

  “I can explain,” said Mayor Jenkins.

  “Don’t bother. I’ll explain it for you. Your plan was to quietly buy up all the properties, bulldoze them, clear cut most of the forest and build your very own ski resort. Sawtooth Mountain.”

  Wilma Jenkins bared her teeth like a feral dog. “You have no idea what you’re doing.”

  “I think I do. Now, I know you’re pretty successful, but successful enough to fund something this ambitious? It didn’t think so. But when I learned that your secret company, Yellow Palms, had investors from a company in Las Vegas called Blue Sky Development? That was interesting enough that I had someone good do a little digging. And I just got an answer, but not the one I expected.

  “It seems there are four investors in Blue Sky. Three of them are businessman. Successful businessman. Nothing to raise a red flag. But the fourth name stood out. Marie Townsend. And do you know why that name stood out? Because Marie Townsend doesn’t usually go by her maiden name anymore. She goes by her married name, Marie Medola. Fascinating, because Marie Medola is married to none other than Tommy Medola. For anyone here who doesn’t know, Tommy Medola is a gangster. Possibly the biggest gangster in the Pacific Northwest.”

  Bullseye. Wilma’s face twisted and the crowd reacted about the way you’d expect. And then there was Margaret Kline. Her hands covered her face. She was in shock and part of me hated doing this, but I decided the truth must come out.

  “I’ve had enough of this,” said Mayor Jenkins. “She whipped out her phone. “It’s time to talk to my lawyer.”

  “That’s what guilty people always do.”

  “No, that’s what innocent people do when they’re being slandered in public. You want war a with me? Get ready for war!”

  War? Interesting she said that. The last part of my battle plan was falling into place.

  “Listen up, Mayor Jenkins, I’m just getting to the best part. And by best, I definitely mean worst. I assume everyone gathered here today would be interested to know that someone else learned about your plan. And he wasn’t happy about it. That’s right, Sheriff Kline knew all about it.”

  Margaret let out a shriek.

  “He even asked Earl Denton to look into it for him. But that’s not all. Sheriff Kline had someone else digging with him as well. What a surprise, the other victim, Patrick Crofton. The sheriff probably thought, who better to catch a crook than a reformed crook?”

  Gemima Clark stepped out of the crowd. “Patrick was involved in this?”

  “Don’t worry, Gemima. Patrick was the good guy.” I turned my attention back to the Mayor. “Sheriff Kline helped Patrick get out of jail early. They were working together to figure out what exactly you were up to. And now, Mayor Jenkins, we’re at my wildest accusation yet.”

  “I think you’ve said quite enough, young lady.”

  “No, Mayor, not quite enough. You see,” I pointed at the most ambitious woman Earl Denton had ever met, “Mayor Jenkins murdered Sheriff Kline.”

  The crowd erupted with what I could only describe as pain. Margaret Kline was sobbing. But I had one last nail to drive home.

  “And Mayor Jenkins, when you figured out Patrick Crofton was working with the sheriff, you killed him too.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Mayor Jenkins dropped her phone and looked around wildly as Gemima Clark let out a bone rattling scream. They were clearly both in shock. So was the crowd. But I noticed one person who was moving. Detective Alex Kramer. It was the first I’d seen of him that day. He was making his way through the crowd.

  “Hope, what are you doing?”

  “It looks like I’m doing your job, doesn’t it?” I said with a smile. “I do have to leave tomorrow, and I thought it best to wrap everything up first.”

  His face hardened and he gritted his teeth. “I thought I told you to stop investigating the case.”

  I shrugged. “I decided I’d rather ask for forgiveness after I caught your murderer. And you’re welcome, by the way.”

  “She’s insane.” Mayor Jenkins went on offense. “I couldn’t have killed Sheriff Kline. I was at home that night.”

  “And can anybody verify that?” I asked.

  “Hope!” Detective Kramer snapped. “Mayor, you don’t have to answer that.”

  “Seeing as I’m being accused of murder in front of the entire town, I definitely do have to answer that. I was at home and my husband Charles can corroborate that. Charles?”

  Charles was shoving burrito into his mouth and looked like a deer in the headlights when she said his name and everyone looked at him expectantly.

  “We like watching all the late-night shows in bed,” he said with his mouth full.

  “And after that?” asked Detective Kramer.

 

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