Past Malice by Dana Cameron

concluded.
    The smiles faded from their faces, replaced by stunned looks. “You’re kidding me. But he’s such a good kid—” Jerry said. He rubbed his hand over his face. “Okay, thanks. We’ll go see what we can get done today.”
    “Get his phone number, Emma?” Dian asked as I returned to where the crew was standing.
    “Not exactly.”
    “She’s completely oblivious to other men since she got married,” said Bucky.
    “I’m not actually shopping,” I said. “Especially not for landscapers.” I left the field wide open for Bucky.
    “Just leafing through the catalogue,” my sister shot back.
    “But I wouldn’t go for a rake like Jerry,” I replied.
    “Too much of a weed,” Bucky said.
    “You’re the one who likes her men so seedy—” I announced.
    Meg finally couldn’t take it anymore. “Enough with the puns already. Dear God, it’s not fair.”
    I felt a little guilty about making jokes, but the speed with which Bucky responded assured me that we both needed to think about something besides the morning’s events. I sent them off and then returned around the back to see if there was anything else I could help Detective Bader with.
    He started right in again, as if there had been no interruption. “Have you noticed anything around here that might suggest why Mr. Fisher was killed?”
    “There’ve been a lot of, well, I wouldn’t call them problems, but let’s say issues between the Historical Society and the town, lately.”
    “Like what?” Detective Bader appeared as if he knew the answer already, but I told him what I knew of the vandalism at the Tapley House, the proposed rerouting of the bus, and the friction between the Bellamys and the Chandler House. I also mentioned what I’d overheard in the board meeting, about Fee not thinking that Justin was suited to the job. I didn’t think it was related, but he wrote it down anyway.
    “You never know,” he said as if reading my mind. “Itcould be anything. We won’t know until we dig around a little.”
    I guess that makes two of us, I thought. I was starting to lose my focus.
    “It might be something to do with Mr. Fisher here, nothing to do with the Historical Society.”
    “Oh!” I remembered Perry’s broken arm and told him about the incident. He frowned.
    “That’s rather more serious, isn’t it? I’ll look into that. Here’s my card; call if you think of anything else.”
    I looked at the card: Detective Sargeant Douglas Bader. I realized that he used the Americanized pronunciation of his name, rhyming the first syllable with fade . Maybe his family changed it during the war, maybe it was something they adopted right away, when they came to this country to better assimilate—
    “Thanks very much, Ms. Fielding.”
    I looked up; I’d gone into my own little world again.
    “Officer Lovell has your number? Well, until tomorrow, then.”
    And with all due courtesy, Detective Bader dismissed me from my own site.

Chapter 5
    I WAS ABOUT HALFWAY BACK TO L AWTON WHEN I REALIZED that the camera I had with me actually had the shots I’d taken of the site yesterday, so I went to the photo place to get them done as a rush order. The nuisance was that I’d have to come back after that to pick up the shots that weren’t a rush order.
    After I’d dropped them off, I figured I might as well stop by the Stone Harbor Library while I was nearby, to look up Bray Chandler’s ancestor, Nicholas. I looked in the birth records and found what I remembered and expected: Over the course of fifteen years, Margaret Chandler had eight children who lived and two who died, one at childbirth, one as a toddler. There was no mention of a Nicholas Chandler anywhere. I checked the death records and there was a Nicholas Chandler listed as having been deceased in 1738, the same year as the fire downtown. While that didn’t necessarily indicate that he was a son of Margaret and Matthew’s, my curiosity was piqued. I looked in the marriage