Page 24 of Hold Your Breath

“Yeah.”

“Sad.” Doris tried three times to scan the pickle jar, and ended up just punching the code in by hand. “Everyone’s trying to figure out who the poor guy could be.”

“Any ideas?” Lou figured that the more people she asked, the greater the chance of finding someone who actually had valuable information.

“Could be anyone.” She punched the button to total the amount and watched as Lou ran her debit card through the scanner. “That wind around here just drives people nuts. When Helen Napping lost it and killed her husband that really nasty winter about twenty years or so ago, I think the wind made her do it. Why, all that blowing and blowing could make someone just”—she clicked her fingers together—“snap.”

Lou stared, resisting the urge to step back from the sweetly smiling woman. “Uh…okay.” She took her receipt and single bag of groceries. “Thanks, Doris.”

“No problem, sweetie. Have a nice day!”

Lou forced a smile and hurried away.

* * *

“I’ve been thinking about one of our theories today,” Lou announced as soon as Callum answered the phone with a terse greeting. “A kid reminded me of it, but I think it still might have some validity.”

“Sparks?”

“Who else calls you with random theories?”

“Why areyoucalling me with random theories?”

“Because you’re my research partner.”

“I’m going to pick you up in less than twelve hours,” he said. “This couldn’t wait until then?”

Lou tucked her blanket around her toes. “I suppose. It’s just that all the information we’ve discovered is circling around in my head. I figured it would help to write down everything. Then I started thinking that we really need a murder board.”

“A murder board?”

“Like in the crime shows. A big whiteboard that shows how all the clues are connected. You don’t happen to have a big whiteboard, do you?”

There was a pause. “Yes.”

“Seriously?”

“Why would I joke about having a whiteboard?”

“I just… Why?”

“Does it matter?”

“I guess not. We have our murder board then—or we will, once we get wild with the dry-erase markers.”

Another pause. “So, are you coming over then?”

“Now?”

“You’re the one who wanted to do this tonight.”

“Right.” She frowned at her blanket-wrapped legs. “I’m in my pajamas.”

“So change. Or don’t change, and just throw a coat over the top. My house is heated, you know.”

“Okay.” Eyeing the light layer of snow clinging to the outside ledge of her window, Lou suggested, “Or you could come to my house.”

“Whiteboard, remember? I’m not dragging that big-ass thing to your house.”