The Oracle (Fargo Adventures 11)

looked up to see Amal and Nasha looking down.

“Everything okay?” Hank called out.

“Fine,” Amal said. “My mother wants to know if you, the Fargos, and Lazlo would like to come over for dinner tomorrow night. If so, I need to leave a bit early today to catch a bus to the market.”

Hank grinned. “I can’t speak for the Fargos, but I’d be delighted.”

“So would we,” Sam said. “Remi’s at the house with Renee. I’m sure she’d be glad to drive you in. It’ll give her something to do.”

“Thank you. I’ll go ask.”

“Her mother’s an amazing cook,” Hank said to Sam after she left. “Poor thing, usually has to take the bus. Can’t drive due to her seizures.” He pulled off his gloves, tossing them onto the rock pile. “Well, not much more we can do down here today. Eventually, I’ll get the pulley system fixed and I can actually start moving this out. At least it no longer looks like a crime scene.” He started for the ladder, adding, “I expect now is as good a time as any to go over the books.”

“Dr. LaBelle couldn’t find them.”

“I know right where they are. I’ll show you.”

They climbed out and walked to the house. When they entered the front door, Hank made for the bookshelf where Renee had been searching less than an hour before. “It was here, I’m sure of it.”

“When’s the last time you saw it?”

“LaBelle and I were sitting in here talking about it the morning of her accident. I suppose it’s highly possible Warren came in and took it while we were at the hospital.” They found the women sitting at the kitchen table. Hank pulled out the chair next to Renee and sat. “How are you? You’re not hurt from—”

“No,” Renee said. “Just stressed. Remi made me chamomile tea. It’s helping.” She gave him a tired smile. “What’d you need?”

“I was trying to remember the last time we saw the ledger. The morning of your accident, wasn’t it?”

“Definitely.” She grabbed her crutches. “Let’s go take another look.”

They followed her into the front room and she took a seat at the desk, swiveling the chair around, searching the shelves again, pulling several identical-looking ledgers from the shelves and placing them on the desk, going through them one by one.

Remi looked at Sam. “Why the grim expression, Fargo?”

“Hate to say it, I think someone sabotaged the deck.”

“Warren …” Renee said. “Had I known that, I might’ve pushed him myself—” She stopped midsentence when Amal walked in the door.

“Where’s Nasha?” Sam asked her.

“With my mother.” She looked at the bookshelf, her face turning ashen. “Excuse me. I forgot something in the field.”

Before anyone could comment, she hurried out the door.

CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO

If you listen to the noise of the market, you won’t buy anything.

– AFRICAN PROVERB –

Remi watched through the window as Amal hurried off. “Wonder what that was about?”

“Perhaps,” Hank said from behind her, “a little post-traumatic stress leftover from Nigeria? It’d certainly explain her odd behavior since she’s been back.”

Sam put his arm around Remi’s shoulder. “You can find out what’s going on when you pick her up later.”

“Me?”

“I volunteered you to drive her to the market this afternoon.”