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There was a line at the coffee shop when I walked up from the house on Tuesday morning. News vans sat parked around Main Street. I pushed my way through the crowd and ignored the questions being thrown my way as I unl ocked the door.

One reporter asked, “Did you know Kane Matthews?”

Another reporter asked, “How has having a cult in your backyard chang ed South Cove?”

“Any theories on why they used the mission as a murder venue?” a woman standing next to me asked quietly. Then she added, “How was the wedding? Any ghost K ane sightings?”

I stared at her as the lock clicke d under my key.

“I have no comment on the murder of, or the life of, Kane Matthews,” I said as I turned and stared down the group. “However, if you want to buy coffee or a book, you’re welcome t o come inside.”

When I walked into the shop, most of the group followed me. The woman who’d asked about the wedding stayed outside. I met her gaze and she smiled. I hadn’t heard the last from her. I put on an apron, started my coffeepots, and switched on the rest of the lights. Then I turned to the first person in line. “What can I get for you?”

As the line eased, I texted Sadie and asked for an emergency refill on my treat stash before I helped the next person. I thought about calling for help, but things were going well, and most of the reporters got their order and left the shop. If they stopped in again after the funeral on their way back to their home base, the shop would be out of bake d goods by one.

With the shop nearly empty, the woman loitering out front came in. She had a disposable cup in her hand that she threw away as she approached the counter. She must have had someone else get her first cup. I tried to ignore what I knew was coming. “Good morning, can I get you another coffee? How woul d you like it?”

She rattled off her simple order and pointed to the snowflake cookies. “I’ll take a dozen of those if yo u have enough.”

“I’ll run in the back and check.” I didn’t wait. I’d already started her coffee and I’d box up the cookies in the back, keeping me out of conversation range. I had two dozen left, so I packed the dozen for her and brought the rest out to put in the case. If I kept busy, maybe she’d leave me alone. I rang up the purchase and gave her the total as I put the box into a large bag, then pushed the coffee toward her. I took h er credit card.

“So how was the wedding? I would have thought you’d be gone on your honeymoon. I guess marrying a police detective kind of killed off that idea.” She took back her card and signed her name on the receipt. Then she left an extre mely large tip.

“I was needed at the coffee shop.” I nodded to the line. “Wo rk is calling.”

The woman’s eyes flashed, and I realized she’d thought I’d talk about Kane’s death. Even Darla knew better, and she was only a part-time reporter. This woman thought a few dollars in my tip jar would buy my story. Or maybe it was the dozen cookie s she’d bought.

She slid a business card my way. “If you ever want to chat, I can pay expenses for a st ory like this.”

I wondered briefly what expenses I might have that she’d offer to cover. She was trying to buy a story from the new wife of the detective in charge of the investigation. She thought I was so self-centered I’d think that Greg’s job was interfering with my own happiness and needs. Or maybe I’d be mad about the delayed honeymoon. I bet Sherry would have made the deal in a hot minute. I smiled at her, moved her card to the side, and called out, “I can help the next customer.”

After the news vans left, I watched as Molly came into the shop. I’d seen her walking past several times wearing a baseball cap, dark sunglasses, and a huge letterman jacket that seemed to swallow her. When she came into the shop, she headed straight to the counter.

“No one else is here, right?” She glanced back and forth.

“You mean the news people? No. They’ve gone. I would have thought that you would want to talk to them. To put Carlie in the spotlight.” I poured her a coffee. Molly had become a frequent customer in the last few weeks and had been on Deek’s list of regulars and their coffee orders. I’d seen her name last week while I was off when I checked the list to see if my regulars still came in without me here to pour their co ffee. They had.

“Carlie didn’t go back to the cult after leaving the hospital. She’s staying with me in Bakerstown. We didn’t want anyone, including Vince, to know. She’s been having a hard time and a local pastor has been helping her reacclimate.” Molly glanced at the almost-empty display case and smiled. “He must be from South Cove since he brought her those same cook ies on Sunday.”

“She’s doing good, though?” I refilled my cup and walked around the counter to t alk with Molly.

“She misses Kane. He was the draw for her. She thought he was in love with her, but when she got to the compound, she was just one of many.” Molly looked around. “That man used the group as his harem. It’s horrible. Now that Roger and Maryanne are in charge, Carlie said it’s been better. But she believed in Kane. Not New Hope. Thank goodness she got pulled out when she did. I think she’s goi ng to be okay.”

I’d thought maybe Kane’s charisma had drawn people to the cult, but I hadn’t imagined he’d been so close to his young, pretty followers. I wondered if Greg knew how Kane had run the church.

“Are you going to the funeral?” I thought I k new the answer.

Molly violently shook her head. “There’s no way I’m letting her step foot on the property again. The pastor told her that saying goodbye doesn’t require a formal ceremony. And I bless him for that. He’s convinced her not to go. Mostly for my safety, but I’ll play the victim if it keep s my kid safe.”

Molly got up and glanced at her watch. “I’ve got a counseling session in about ten minutes. Thanks for the coffee and for talking with me. I appreciate everythin g you’ve done.”

“Molly, about Vince—” I started, but she shook her head.

“Don’t worry about him. He left an angry voice mail this morning saying that Detective King had men come to his hotel room and escort him out of town. Of course, he blamed me for telling them that he hit me. But then he said something about his ex-wife’s kid, so I don’t know who ratted him out for being a bad guy. I just k now he’s gone.”

I couldn’t help but glance out the windows to the street. I hoped Molly’s words were true. “Ju st be careful.”

She put the hat back on and slipped on the glasses. “You think anyone will recognize me in this getup?”

I let the statement stand. I’d recognized her the first time she walked past the window, but maybe Vince w as out of town.

I focused on getting the shop ready for Deek to take over at eleven. I needed to change into clean black pants, a silk tee, and a blazer, my go-to funeral outfit along with black slides. I wouldn’t be invisible at the funeral, but maybe I’d fit in enough to not stand out.

* * * *

As soon as Esmeralda and I walked into the foyer of the meetinghouse, I realized I’d chosen the wrong outfit to blend in. Besides the local community members, like Esmeralda and me, who’d come out of curiosity, everyone was dressed in colors. Bright colors, florals, and celebration clothes. The men were in tan khakis and brightly colored polo shirts, which made them look like they worked on a golf course.

As Esmeralda moved to the chapel area, I paused. “I need to go to the r estroom first.”

“Do you want me to wait?” Esmeralda glanced at the men standing and watching the group mill around. They weren’t carrying guns today since no one had on a jacket to hide them, but they were the s ecurity guards.

“I’ll find you. Save me a seat.” I turned toward the library, where I knew the restrooms were located, except I went down the hallway and tried the door to Kane’s office.

It was unlocked. I pushed open the door and slipped inside. The doorway was hidden from the watchful guards in the foyer, but I knew I wouldn’t have much time. Maybe he had a journal somewhere. Or a letter from the killer. Of course, Greg would have found that. I wasn’t sure what I was looking for, but I’d never have this opp ortunity again.

I scanned his desk and found his calendar. It was still open to the week he’d died. There was no note about meeting Molly on that Sunday. It noted his sermons, which he called talks, and the times. I used a pen from my tote and turned the page. On the next Tuesday, he’d written my name and Coffee, B ooks, and More.

Had Kane planned to come see me the next week? And if so, why? Maybe he thought I was the weak link in getting Greg to leave New Hope alone and not support the detractors. I turned to the next week and the pages were blank. I guessed Kane didn’t plan too far ahead. I scanned the room again. Nothing screamed at me.

I felt the clock ticking. I was out of time. Whatever Kane had wanted to talk to me about must have died with him.

I listened at the door. Music was starting. I needed to find my seat before it was obvious I wasn’t coming from the bathroom. I looked back once again and saw Kane’s bookshelf. Had I missed the opportunity to learn more about his life? And m aybe his death?

I slipped out of the office and realized the guards were standing near the front door with their backs to the chapel area. I walked over to the restroom, then came out of that door like I’d used the facilities.

No one was watching me as I went into the chapel and spo tted Esmeralda.

As I sat down, the jumbo screen at the front of the room was playing a selection of Kane’s favorite talks.

“You are made to be happy. To explode onto this world. Not hide your talents under a bushel. And by talents, I mean your intelligence. Your beauty. Your strength. Find what makes you special and capitalize on it. That’s what you’re made for. For me, it’s my height. Everyone loves me because I’ m tall, right?”

The audience on the screen and in the meetinghouse laughed a long with Kane.

“No. They love me because, for some reason, God gave me the ability to connect with others. To bring you into the fold. To love you and this entire family. To give y ou a New Hope.”

Esmeralda leaned in. “I’ve been to duller tent revivals with live snakes. The man had the p ower of words.”

The screen froze on a picture of Kane holding up a baby and looking to the ceiling, his words posted on the screen. “Welcome to our family. We’ve been wa iting for you.”

“I think we’re going to get a time-share pitch presentation.” I looked around at the women who were standing now, their hands rai sed in the air.

“Welcome to New Hope and our celebration of the life of my brother, Kane Matthews.” Roger Matthews came on the stage and the picture changed from Kane with the baby to a pair of boys, arms around each other, grinning at the camera. Roger turned to stare at the picture. “That photo was taken three weeks before our parents were taken from us in a fire in their church. They gave their lives to serve. Was there any question what Kane and I would grow up to do?”

The next thirty minutes were all about the story of Kane and Roger. And I could sense an underlying thread. The story of why Roger was the perfect choice to be the new leader of New Hope, no questions asked. I watched Maryanne, who sat on a chair to the left of the stage. She had a notebook and pen in front of her and she was either taking notes or writing down reactions. She saw me watching her and smiled at me. My presence ha d been noticed.

I couldn’t help but compare Kane’s uplifting and commanding presentation to the boring one presented by Roger. They’d picked well when they’d chosen Kane as the face of the church. Now Roger had to up his game. If it was even possible.

Maryanne met us in the foyer after the service, as we were getting ready to leave. She put a hand on my arm. “Thank you so much for coming to support us in our grief.”

I glanced around the room. There were no weeping parishioners. Just a group of people serving coffee and treats to the gathered group. I felt Esmeralda’s hand on my other arm, bringing me back to the present. “I’m so sorry for your loss. If there’s anything I can do, pleas e let me know.”

“Oh, we’ll survive. Roger is already stepping in for Kane in an amazing way, don’t you think? He’s so good on stage.”

Esmeralda stepped in. “Oh yes. The brothers made their parents proud, that’s for sure. I’m sorry to bring it up, but Jill’s mother-in-law is expecting us for a late lunch. She’s leaving town soon since the we dding is over.”

“Oh yes.” I glanced at my watch while I spoke. “We are be hind schedule.”

“I was hoping to give you a private tour of the facility. Kane said you were very interested in our book collection. We have several other libraries on the property.” Maryanne reached over and plucked a boo k from a shelf.

I’d been drawn to the library in the foyer as we watched the circus happening around us. A group of men were watching us now. Especially since Maryanne had come to chat with us. “Well, maybe another time.”

Maryanne pressed the book into my hand. Kane’s face was on the cover. “Please take this with my love. It explains all about New Hope and what we’re trying to accomplish. I’d love for New Hope to have someone who understands us to represent us in the local community. I know chang e can be hard.”

The men seemed to relax and stopped watching us. Had they expected Maryanne to blurt out som e secret to me?

I tucked the book under my arm. “Thank you for your hospitality. I’ll let you get back to your other guests.”

Esmeralda and I didn’t talk until we drove off the compound and were back on the highway toward South Cove. She turned to me, picking up the book from where I’d set it between us. “Tha t was intense.”

“I felt overdressed and uncomfortable.” I rolled down the window in the Jeep. “And why give me the book? They’ve been here for over six months. Now they think they need a contact in South Cove?”

“I have a feeling that changes are coming to New Hope. I also get the feeling that Roger isn’t the one in charge.”

I met Esmeralda’s gaze. “You think Maryanne’s making a play for the role of lead er, don’t you?”

“Politics inside organizations are often more cutthroat than those in the public eye. I think Greg needs to find out where Maryanne Matthews was on that S unday morning.”

I laughed as we turned off the highway and back onto the road that would lead us to city hall and the police station. “The last thing Greg needs is more suspects. I just gave him a li st last night.”

“If I know your husband, Maryanne’s probably already on his list, even if it wasn’t written down. The woman is crafty.” She went to toss the book on the back seat. “I’d trash that if I were you.”

“I have a feeling there’s a clue in that book. I might give it to Beth to read, but there’s going to be a clue. We just ha ve to find it.”

By the time Greg got home that night, I’d read most of the book. I was a fast reader and the writing wasn’t very dense for being a religious tome for the church. It read more like a People article. He came in with bags of food from Diamond Lille’s. “Hello, dear husband. I guess I should have had a pot roast on.”

“Esmeralda told me you were given homework at the funeral.” He set the bags in the kitchen. “Besides, Jim, Beth, and Mom are coming over for dinner. They’re leaving tom orrow morning.”

“Already?” I set the book down on the table and watched him head to the office to put his g un in the safe.

“I thought maybe you’d make some headway on these gifts,” he called from the other room. When he came out, he kissed me on the head. “Thank you notes must be sent promptly. Your aunt mentioned that to me a few times at the reception.”

“I’m waiting for you to find a killer. Don’t think that something like murder is going to get you out of thank you note duty.” I rubbed his cheek. “Y ou look tired.”

“I am. Marvin thinks I should have caught this fiend by now, even with the wedding.” He rubbed under his eye, which had started twitching. “Mom was going to stay around another week, but with the investigation and me pulling Toby from your staff, she understands. Besides, we’ll see them in June w hen we go out.”

A vacation I wasn’t looking forward to. A week in Neb raska. In June.

“I’ll be right down.” He ignored my unspoken comment. “And they will be here in just a few minutes. Do you mind sett ing the table?”

“It is my wifely duty, kind sir.” I stood and curtseyed.

He grinned at me. “I know you’re kidding, but I’m kind of digging all the wifely housewo rk references.”

“Don’t get used to it. I’m just trying it on to make sure it itches as much as I’d expected.” I snapped my fingers at Emma. “Come on, girl. You need to check the yard barriers for any unexpected rabb its or wolves.”

“We all have our roles,” Greg called d own the stairs.

Both Greg and I knew that Emma was more likely to play with any animal she found than chase it away. But I liked telling her she was an accomplished hunter. It made her feel good as well as gave her confidence.

Something that the women in New Hope needed. For the first time since Molly had shown up that Tuesday morning, I realized I didn’t know who Carlie’s new counselor was. Was it someone in the brain business, like a medical counselor? Or someone in the heart business, l ike a minister?

And was it any of my busine ss, either way?