No Gravestone Left Unturned (A Jane Ladling Mystery 2)

“To help distract you from your hangryness, you should show them your board, Jane.” Fiona peeked out from the door between kitchen and dining room. “Maybe it will also help you craft the perfect crime solving party to showcase your—”

“Why are you humoring her?” Conrad interjected.

“Because I recognize genius when I hear it, agent. Too bad for you if you can’t say the same.” Fiona humphed and disappeared again.

“How did you know about the—oh, never mind.” Jane relinquished her silverware and popped to her feet. “Be right back.”

She rolled the big white board from the office, where she’d stored it, to the kitchen, only nicking three walls. “Tell me if you need me to explain anything. Although it appears pretty self-explanatory to me.” Different shades of yarn meant different things, the key in the right-hand corner. Simple. Easy.

Both Conrad and Beau grew wide-eyed and glazed as they surveyed her handiwork.

“The way your mind works.” Conrad waved his fingers to indicate the photos, plethora of sticky notes, and all her many thought bubbles. “You have a thread for people who give you a bad vibe…and every single person is connected to it.”

“That. What he said.” Beau hiked his thumb at the agent without looking away from the dizzying, crisscrossing threads. Once again, his buddies nodded.

“Correct. And I stand by my assessment. But it’s the photos that bother me most,” she said, pointing from Robby to Blake to Jake. The images she’d printed from social media—some of the same snapshots she’d spotted in Ana’s box of photos. “I mean, both guys claim someone impersonated them to clean out their savings. But who could pass themselves off as whom?” Wait. That was an excellent question. Who could pass themselves off as whom?

Jane positioned in front of the board and glanced from photo to photo. From certain angles, one or all of the guys could be mistaken as the other. There were big differences, of course, no two guys the same. Varying hair colors, skin tones, builds, shapes and vibes. And yet… yeah, there were similarities too. Big similarities. Especially among the photos of a guy kissing a girl’s cheek. As if they all had come with the same default program.

What if one man had targeted the others? Thanks to Team Truth, she knew you only needed a driver’s license and a bit of info memorized to drain an account. If the thief resembled the victim, the victim couldn’t prove a crime occurred. No crime, no heat. Pure evil. As Blake could attest.

That’s it! She knew it, felt it. That must be Ana’s big story. The reason the journalist had gone on those dates with Robby—because there was no other excuse to date Robby, and that was an undeniable truth. And if the thief’s identity was, in fact, Ana’s big story, then it tied into speed dating, exactly as the journalist had believed.

So the thief, what? Attended speed dating events to find his next victim and have an excuse to ask personal questions?

Excitement bloomed. Forget Tiffany and Abigail and the desire for gold. A speed dater could have attended the Berdize events seeking to acquire the personal info of other daters. Then, after accessing their bank accounts, pinned the blame on the other daters. Yes! One of the sixteen must be involved in the killing, and Jane believed she had just narrowed it down to three, thanks to her (no doubt) scarily accurate bad vibes.

The Robber, aka Gravedigging Robby. Art Amour, aka too easy-going Jake. Sir Drinks A Lot, aka super petty Anthony, whom she’d let slip away from her radar for a bit. But no longer.

About to leave town Jake. Never stop throwing back Tony. On the hunt for gold Robby.

Yep. The more Jane played with their names, the more certain she was. They were her top three suspects. Solidified. Final answer. The evidence was stacking up. AKA her feelings said, Ding, ding, ding.

Whoever had killed Ana was a planner as much as a thief. Tony, a lawyer who needed to stay organized to win cases. Robby, a gold hunter who’d known to learn Jane’s schedule. Jake, a painter, used to paying close attention to the smallest details.

Snide Robby. Smiley Jake. Smug Tony. One of them had planted that thorn apple at the Garden to frame Jane, and he would pay.

New mission for the party: Focus totally on the trio. The widow and the ex-wife would get major side-eye, though.

“I know that look,” Conrad said with a groan.

Beau groaned, too. “One or both of us is breaking a law in the next twenty-four hours, guaranteed.”

“As if I’d let either one of you do my crime-ing. You’re both too soft for the slammer. Unlike me. I’ve been there. Twice. I’ve seen things.” Decided, Jane returned to the table and reclaimed her seat between Conrad and Beau. Just in time.