MURDER on the ROCKS (Allie Griffin Mysteries Book 2) by Leslie Leigh Page B

square one, almost. The only thing I have to go on is the fact that someone knew enough about Bennett's schedule to know he wouldn’t be home that night. That's only if Honey was the intended victim. If Bennett was the intended victim...oh God. I am back to square one, aren’t I?"
                  Del put down her fork, evidently in frustration after not finding anything worthwhile to dig out of the greens. "Let's change the subject and talk about possible murder weapons."
                  This sudden dramatic burst, so characteristic of Del, drew suspicious looks from neighboring tables.
                  Allie mouthed a silent shush and kept her own voice low. "I was thinking about that. If it was someone from the quarry, he could have used a rock."
                  "Of course," said Del. "Then he could just toss it back into the pit."
                  "Right," said Allie. "Or on a scrap pile. Or, and I don’t even want to think about it, shipped it out to a client for use in a building or something. Can you imagine? The cops would have a helluva time finding it, wouldn’t you think? I mean, you should have seen the size of this place. It was like the Grand Canyon. No way you could find a specific rock among millions in that place. And no way, with how busy the place was, could it be traced if it was thrown into a delivery truck and hauled off somewhere."
                  "You're forgetting something," said Del. She sounded apologetic. "Didn’t you just tell me the foreman guy said he couldn't imagine anyone there having an affair?"
                  Allie jolted up with sudden remembrance. "He paid him! Oh my God, I forgot! Bennett paid the guy!"
                  More looks from the other tables.
                  "Who? He paid who?" Del said with mock astonishment.
                  "The guy who wrote the blackmail note. Bennett said he paid him in cash. He met the guy in some alleyway."
                  "So we just have to look for some guy down at the quarry throwing money around."
                  "If he is from the quarry. And no, Bennett said the guy wouldn’t be stupid enough to be throwing his money around, and I believe him. But listen. Frank Beauchenne told me about a convergence of evidence. If there isn't evidence of someone down there throwing money around, maybe there's other evidence that would point to someone having received a large sum."
                  "Like what?"
                  She thought for a moment, and then felt a sense of elation taking over. "Maybe someone cancelled paycheck withholding for benefits or 401K. Maybe there was a garnishment that's not there anymore."
                  "You'll have to go talk to your friend the foreman."
                  "No. He doesn't handle that stuff. He said it himself. He's able to talk to those guys the way he talks to them because he directly impacts their jobs. The paychecks come from up above somewhere in the ether. The pencil pushers, the calculators, and the clipboards – none of them impacts their physical jobs that they do every day. It's only the end result. Paychecks come from the parent company, and that's located in Montpelier."
                  Del flicked at the straw in her water glass. "Good luck getting paycheck information. It's probably crazy protected."
                  "I know."
                  Allie felt a nervous twinge turn into a full flurry of anxiety in her as she considered once again, like she'd done in the past, breaking the law in the name of catching a murderer.
                  It was a qualm of conscience easily overrun when she considered that somewhere out there, Detective Harry Tomlin was clutching a fistful of files on her husband's death, trying to connect the dots back to her. Easily overrun