19644d8eebdf42e4b611005d94748ece

Charles shook his head in response.“He might not want to, but I bet that officer Bouchard could convince him otherwise.”

“Already on it.” Mom held up her phone as the call connected. A moment later, a wide smile stretched across her face.

“Yes, it’s me, Laura Lee. We found Mags, which you probably already heard, so now we’re available to help you find the killer from the ice sculpture garden.”

I couldn’t hear the officer’s side of the conversation, but whatever he said didn’t slow Mom down one bit.

“Of course, I know you’re all working on it very hard,” she said, bobbing her head, “but you know how talented my Angie is, and I think she might have already figured it all out besides.”

I made a slicing motion across my neck, begging her not to exaggerate our position, but it was too late.

Mom smiled even wider.“Yes, yes, we just need to take another look at those photos from Mr. Gable’s camera to confirm. Would you mind letting us take a look?”

She paused while Officer Bouchard said something on the other end of the line.

“Luckily, we just so happen to be at the Glendale police station already, so if you would give the word to your colleague here, I’m sure he’d be happy to share.”

I watched Mom as she marched in the direction the officer and Mags had departed and knocked on the door to the interrogation room.

Definitely not standard procedure, but Mom had never worried much about that. She would go anywhere, do anything to pursue a hot story, and this was definitely the hottest of the holiday season.

“Oh, officer!” she called through the door. “I know you’re in there. I have Officer Bouchard on the line, and he has a message for you.”

I stood in shocked silence as the door flung open. The officer cursed softly, then told Mags he’d be back in a moment. Sure enough, less than three minutes later we had Mr. Gable’s camera in hand and free rein to look through the photographs.

“What are you hoping to find?” Nan asked me as I flicked faster and faster, taking in all the smiling faces from that morning one by one.

“I’m not exactly sure, but I’d like to see if any of the shots send up warning flares.”

Although I didn’t say so, I was also trying to determine who the two suspicious characters the rabbit E.B. had noted might be.

I reached the end of the photo roll and then began to flip back through in the other direction. Faster, faster, still unsure of what I was hoping to find, but knowing I was so close.

“Do you think—” my father started, but Charles held up a hand to silence him. He recognized something in my face before I’d even managed to connect the dots in my brain.

I shuffled through the pictures again, finally realizing that one very specific person was missing.“Nan, when did you and Mr. Milton join up today?”

“Why, he found me a few minutes after we arrived while you and Mags were still getting that fancy cocoa. You remember. Don’t you?”

I nodded.“So he arrived before us, then?”

“Yes, absolutely,” Nan assured me.

I found our photo in the lineup. We were one of the first. Only about ten folks had arrived before us, and none of them were Mr. Milton. Could he be one of the people E.B. had identified as acting suspiciously?

I wished I could ask the bunny now, but she’d already told me all humans look the same and I knew she wouldn’t be able to recognize a specific person if shown a picture—not that I even had one of those since our old pal Mr. Milton had evaded the camera.

“He’s not here,” I told Nan, handing over the camera.

“Oh dear, don’t be ridiculous.” She flipped through quickly, her voice trailing off. “He probably took another entrance. There were several to choose from.”

“I have a bad feeling about this,” Mom mumbled.

“If you hadn’t sent him away, he’d be here to answer these accusations for himself,” Nan said, but I could tell she now worried about his possible involvement as well.

“He is a member of the committee, too, you know. He could have helped with information, but you never gave him a chance.” This behavior from Nan was shocking. She’d always supported me, no matter what. So to see her defending Mr. Milton now sent a chill rushing right through me.

“Nan, what exactly is your relationship with Mr. Milton? I never met him before today, and he just seems a little possessive of you.”

“Oh, don’t be silly,” Nan responded. “He’s an old friend from years ago, and we simply reconnected now.”

“Do you think he’s capable of murder or kidnapping?” I asked.

“How could he have been the one to kidnap Mags when he was with us the whole time?” Nan asked with a slight quaver in her voice.

“Okay. Maybe not the kidnapping, but what about the murders? He arrived before us and the victims were already dead by then.”

“He would never,” she insisted and bit her lip, a telltale sign she didn’t quite believe the words that had come out of her mouth.

“Don’t worry, Nan. I’m not saying he did it. But you are right about one thing. We need to talk to somebody on that committee.”

“Should I ring Mr. Gable?” Mom offered.