“We need to approach the blackmail and the murder cases methodically,” Royce said.

I nodded my agreement. “And though I think they’re connected, we shouldn’t—”

“—assume that they are,” Royce finished.

An unofficial Gang member, he possessed an analytical but creative mind, and his enthusiasm was equal to ours. We were thrilled to have him.

“There’s one assumption I think we can make,” Holly said, “and that’s that Charlotte is helping Brodie dig up gossip. The question is, has she done more with this gossip than pass it to Brodie? And has Brodie done more with it than print articles?”

“One of them could be the source of the papers and photo someone gave Mary,” Julia said.

I shook my head. “Why would they involve Mary? If Brodie gets the information he wants from Charlotte, he doesn’t need to risk his job by bringing others into the mix.”

“It would be introducing an unnecessary link in the communication chain,” Royce said.

“Having Charlotte search Town Hall records is one thing,” I said, “but blackmailing Mary over records Charlotte finds would get Brodie fired, without question.”

“Blackmail aside, he should be fired for prying into people’s personal business,” Julia said.

I stood and went to the whiteboard. “Out of Mary’s four blackmail items, the only one that could have originated in Town Hall is the second mortgage. The photo didn’t, the Nampa, Idaho, police record on Brodie didn’t, and neither did Sophia Geller’s lawsuit against Isak in Minnesota.”

“Then we need to switch tracks,” Julia said, “and I’d like to make a suggestion.”

Royce gave a supportive nod of his head. “I’d like to hear it.”

“Let’s start by doing an online search for Brodie’s accident and this Minnesota lawsuit.”

“We do need that information,” Holly said. “Let’s start with Brodie.” She sat behind my desk and began to peck away at the keyboard.

I turned back to the whiteboard, thoughts tumbling and flying. Brodie had been shocked to learn he was in Dalton’s painting, Holly had said, almost to the point of being sick. It was dawning on me that multiple dirt-diggers were at work. Brodie and Charlotte were operating on a smaller scale, perhaps. Someone else was deadly serious and out for blood.

“Here we are,” Holly said. “Several articles in two online Idaho papers. His accident was seven years ago, when he was twenty-five, and it happened under the influence. He was arrested.”

Holly went silent.

“Don’t stop,” Julia said.

“This is awful. The passenger, Eamon, was his younger brother. I think . . .” She scrolled. “He lived, but he was very seriously hurt. Eamon asked for leniency for Brodie. Hang on.”

Holly clicked and scrolled several more times, then announced her findings. “Brodie’s license was suspended for four years and he was sentenced to two hundred hours of community service. That’s all. Knowing he’d almost killed his brother was part of his sentence, or so the judge said. No jail time.”

“You have to feel a little sorry for him,” Royce said. “That’s a heavy burden to carry through life.”

Holly gestured at the computer monitor. “It happened seven years ago, but it’s easy to find. All Dalton had to do was search Brodie’s name. He didn’t need anyone’s help for this dirt.”

“Okay, so we know any of our suspects could’ve found out about Brodie’s accident,” Julia said. She nibbled at her donut and, finding it tastier than expected, took a larger bite.

“But who would have reason to?” I asked. “And who had access to the Nampa PD report? An article’s one thing, but an official police record is on another level.”

Holly set about another search. This one took longer and yielded only one article.

“The headline reads, ‘Elite Tilton Academy embroiled in a case of sexual misconduct,’” she announced. “It says, ‘Faculty member Isak Karlsen has been accused of multiple incidences of sexual misconduct by a former student at the academy, Sophie Geller. Geller’s lawsuit names both Karlsen and the Tilton Academy, stating that no action was taken by Tilton when she and her parents brought the misconduct to the school’s attention. Geller, now eighteen, states that the misconduct took place when she was sixteen and that the school’s own internal investigation was insufficient.’”

The lawyerly language irritated me. “Does it say what his misconduct was?”

“Nope,” Holly replied. “Unwanted advances? Or maybe he touched her.” She held a finger to her open mouth, making a gag motion. “Geller was asking for a million dollars in damages. But the second article says the lawsuit was dropped for insufficient evidence. It also says Karlsen denied the allegations but the school suspended his teaching privileges and barred him from campus.”

So the lawsuit was also readily available information. Anyone bent on revenge might have found it. But the lawsuit’s official cover page, given to Mary, would have been difficult to find.

“Imagine what Taylor would’ve painted if he’d known about that lawsuit,” Royce said.

“Maybe he did know,” I said, “but he held back because of his business dealings with Isak.”

“And his business dealings with Shasta,” Holly said. “And I don’t just mean the website.”

“So he jabs him over his stolen jam recipes instead,” I said. “Possibly.”

“Gossip,” Royce said, his voice full of disdain. “Ruins lives, and may have led to murder.”

“Why don’t we go back to the murders?” Julia asked. “If they’re connected to the blackmail, we may find out in the process of looking for the killer.”

I held up my hand. “I agree. Move on to the murders?”

“Murders,” Holly said, vacating my chair.

“Agreed,” said Royce.

“Let’s start with Laura Patchett,” I said, returning to my computer. “Fact one. She goes ballistic over something in that painting, and an hour later she’s dead.”

Royce declared it illogical to call that a coincidence. We all agreed.

“Fact two. Anyone at the brunch could have killed Laura. Charlotte and Brodie left right after she did, and who knows where they went. Then Isak, Clay, and Shasta left. Supposedly, Isak and Clay went to talk to Dalton, but they couldn’t have been together the whole time. That left Shasta and Mary alone for a period of time.”

“You don’t think Mary killed Laura?” Holly asked.

“At this stage we can’t leave anyone out,” Royce said.

“Fact three,” I continued. “At someone’s request Taylor made a secret addition to Hidden Little Town Number 8 on December twenty-eighth. Fact four. Since Laura had seen the painting at least twice before, that addition must be what angered her.”

Royce pronounced that eminently logical. “Julia said she left the table to look at the painting. Someone mentioned the change to her, do you think? She was stewing over it, and she decided to have a look for herself.”

I took a bite of donut and washed it down with coffee. “Who among the guests had the power to talk a snobby artiste into changing his brilliant work of art? Holly, these donuts are a very close second to your cream puffs, I’m telling you.”

Her face lit up with a smile. It was funny how uncertain my friend could be about her own baking skills. “What about the gallery owners?” she asked.

I pointed out that Dalton had made it clear to me that Clay and Isak were neither friends nor colleagues. They were nothing more than means to an end. “It must’ve been someone whose opinion mattered to him. Though if the addition was specifically meant to infuriate Laura, he would’ve been more willing to go along.”

“Other than Dalton, who disliked Miss Patchett?” Royce asked.