Romeow and Juliet by Kathi Daley Page A

problem and you’ll be back to your old self.”
    “Maybe I should have a chat with Francine myself before I go,” Maggie said.
    “It’s already getting late and you wanted to stop by the Bait and Stitch before you left,” I reminded her. “Why don’t you go ahead and do what you were going to do and I’ll let Francine know you want to get together next week?”
    Maggie hesitated.
    “It would be to your advantage to be at your best when you talk,” I reminded her.
    “I suppose you’re right. You’ll call me if you learn anything new?”
    “I will. And you’ll only be gone for a few days. I doubt anything at all will happen in such a short amount of time.”
    Boy, was I wrong.
     
    I finished eating breakfast and then saw Maggie off on her errands and did the dishes. When I’d checked with Finn earlier he’d reported that he’d been by Francine’s, as he’d promised the previous evening, but the house had been dark and no one had answered when he knocked. I’d asked why he didn’t just break in and check out the basement, but he’d explained that he didn’t have probable cause to do so. I was certain by this point that Camden Bradford was guilty of killing Francine, and probably Keith as well, but I needed some sort of proof before I would be able to get anyone to take me seriously.
    “I’m certain Mr. Bradford has nothing to do with Keith’s murder,” Tara said as we shared lunch while we worked on the proposal for Coffee Cat Books.
    “What about Francine?” I asked.
    “You don’t even know she’s dead.”
    “I saw Camden Bradford in her house. When Finn went by later the house was dark. I went by this morning and there was no answer. I’m telling you, Francine is rolled up in her area rug, which I assume is still in her basement.”
    Tara sat back and looked directly at me. “You need to get off this whole conspiracy thing. The only way we’re going to follow our dream of opening Coffee Cat Books is if we can get the full amount of funding we need from the bank. We’re never going to get our loan approved if you’re running around town accusing the man who has the power to support our loan of murder. Please tell me that you’ll drop this.”
    There was no way I was going to drop it. Tara should know me well enough to realize that. On the other hand, I really didn’t want to engage in a debate that had no acceptable resolution.
    “Promise me,” Tara insisted.
    “I promise I won’t run around town accusing Bradford of murder.”
    “Good.” Tara sighed in relief. “So about the windows . . .” She launched into the subject we were supposed to be discussing in the first place.
     
    I’d promised I wouldn’t run around town accusing the district manager of the bank of murder and I didn’t. In fact, I didn’t run anywhere. I finished my conversation with Tara and then headed over to the Bait and Stitch to help Marley, as I’d promised Maggie I would. I might have casually brought up the subject of Keith Weaver’s death to a few of the patrons who stopped by that afternoon. Of course, my sneaky interrogation of the Bait and Stitch customers yielded me nothing more than I could have gained from sitting at the bar at O’Malley’s and listening to casual conversation.
    “I heard Cody West is back,” one of the women from the quilting circle commented.
    “I heard that as well,” Marley answered. “He’s such a handsome young man, with those dark blue eyes and all that thick brown hair. I stopped off to pick up some coffee on my way in and overheard the gals from the Clip and Curl arguing over which of them had the right to take him out for a spin.”
    “Out for a spin?” I asked as I rolled my eyes.
    “I think that was their way of referring to dating,” Marley informed me.
    “I know what it means to take someone out for a spin; it just seems archaic to compare him to an object that can be had by the winning bidder.”
    “Oh, I don’t think they were actually bidding