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“Easily,” she retorted, and typed in Scarlett’s name. “And when did you install a password? We’re family, Tex. Family doesn’t keep secrets from each other.”

“These are medical records!”

“I know,” she said, as she pulled up Scarlet’s.

Tex held a hand in front of the screen.“I can’t allow you to see this, Vesta. I’m sorry but I simply can’t.”

“Move your hand or you’ll be sorry, Tex,” she said warningly.

But instead of removing his hand, he pushed the button that powered down the screen.

“Oh, Tex. I wish you hadn’t done that,” she said with a sigh. And before he could respond, she’d sprinted past him and into his office, then closed and locked the door.

“Hey! Let me in!” he cried. “That’s my office—let me in!”

But instead, she merely took a leisurely seat behind his desk and pulled up Scarlet’s file, then calmly read through it, and nodded to herself. She then took a piece of paper, a pen, and jotted down a name and phone number.

“I knew it,” she muttered to herself.

When she looked up, she saw that Franklin Beaver was still lying in the same position. She’d totally forgotten about him. He was smiling at her, so she held up her hand. “Not today, Franklin. But ask me again in a couple weeks.” She waved the little piece of paper. “I might ask you to make a small… donation.”

[Êàðòèíêà: img_3]

At the library, Marge Poole was reading a couple of chapters of Danielle Steel’s latest bestseller. It had been quiet all morning, and since all of her work was done, she’d decided to skim the first page. Now, half an hour later, she was still reading, and hoping no new clients would walk in so she could keep on reading.

And she’d been so deeply engrossed in the story of a princess who marries a commoner only to discover his family are all members in good standing with the Sicilian Mafia, when suddenly the sound of a throat being cleared had her look up. Bertha Braithwaite had walked up to the desk so quietly she hadn’t even noticed. The older woman was now staring at her with a distinctly malicious glint in her eyes.

“You have to renounce him, Marge,” she said now.

“What?” Marge asked, her head still filled with scenes of mafia members suddenly showing up at the princess’s wedding and threatening to shoot the place to smithereens.

“Your brother! You have to renounce him.”

“My brother… what are you talking about?”

“The way he attacked that poor Pamela Witherspoon last night. I can’t believe I never saw it before, but he has an evil streak. I should have known when I asked him to arrest my neighbor after he threw that dead mouse into my backyard and he flat-out refused. So here’s my ultimatum to you, Marge Poole,” Bertha said as she wagged a bony finger in the librarian’s face. “Either you renounce your no-good pervert brother or you’re losing my business, you hear? And not just mine. My friends are all saying the same thing.”

“I don’t get it, Bertha. What’s going on?”

“Oh, don’t you play dumb with me, Marge. Your brother attacked Pamela in the park last night. Forced himself on her and now he’s trying to cover his tracks by acting as if nothing happened. But we all know what happened, and it won’t be long now before his time of reckoning will come. I heard he’s resigned already. And good riddance, too.”

“My brother? Attacked Pamela? There must be some mistake,” she said, stunned.

“No mistake. Alec has always been a dirty little deviant, and now everybody knows. So what’s it going to be, Marge? Are you going to tell him to leave town all nice and quiet like? Or are we going to have to kick him out, and you, too? Cause trust me, we will!”

“But Bertha!”

“Don’t you but Bertha me, Marge. You have until tomorrow to tell your brother to pack up and leave Hampton Cove, or else we’ll have your job.”

And with these words, the old woman stalked off again, though this time without her usual stack of thrillers (all killer, no filler) neatly tucked into her big bulky purse.

Marge stared after this regular client of hers, stunned to the core. Then she picked up the phone and called her brother. He answered on the first ring.

“Alec! What did you do?!!!!”

Chapter 7

We’d finally arrived at Odelia’s office, a little later than usual, but with a big story to tell.

Odelia was typing away in her office, and when we walked in didn’t even look up.

Only when we jumped on top of her desk did she finally pay us attention.

“Oh, hey, you guys. I thought you’d gotten lost somewhere.”

“Uncle Alec just lost his job!” Dooley blurted out.

“Yeah, and he’s being accused of attacking a woman in the bushes,” I added.

Odelia blinked.“Wait, slow down—what?”

And in a few words we painted a picture of the things we’d learned that morning. Our human was staring at us, completely flabbergasted. The moment we were done, she picked up her phone and dialed her uncle’s number.

“Straight to voicemail,” she muttered, then thought for a moment. “What’s the name of this woman? Pamela…”

“Witherspoon,” I said.

“Dan!” she shouted. “Do you know a woman named Pamela Witherspoon?!”