Holly got to her feet. “Peter will be here in half an hour. Meeting tonight? If we don’t figure this out, I’ll be up all hours.”
We scheduled a Mystery Gang meeting for six o’clock. I bought shortbread cookies for the station and headed out into the snow-speckled wind for my Forester.
Then I phoned Shasta Karlsen.
CHAPTER 17
Shasta had wanted to meet at her house, but since going there alone would qualify as taking a foolish risk in Gilroy’s eyes, I asked if we might rendezvous at Grove Coffee. A little put out, but driven by curiosity, she showed up ten minutes later.
We grabbed a table by the window, the same one, it seemed to me, that Shasta and Dalton had sat at when an unknown watcher had snapped their photo.
“Your husband interviewed me a little while ago,” she said, peeling the plastic top from her Styrofoam cup of tea. “Again.”
“He’ll talk to everyone two or three times in the course of an investigation. It’s normal.”
“Right now he’s interviewing Isak again. So why are we here? Are you going to ask me if I killed Laura or Dalton?”
I balked. I sputtered. “Why—why would I think that?”
“Rachel, everyone in town knows you’re an amateur detective. You’ve actually solved murders, and Mary and I read your mysteries.”
Was she trying to defuse me with flattery? “That’s not why we’re here. Mary asked me to help her. She’s being blackmailed, and I think the blackmail is linked to the murders.”
I wasn’t terribly interested in Mary’s blackmail dilemma, except where it intersected with the murders, but the words Mary and blackmail opened doors with her friends.
Shasta seemed genuinely upset. “She’s being blackmailed? With what and over what?”
“In part, over you and Dalton having an affair.”
Her cup froze halfway to her mouth, but an instant later she recovered like a professional, took a sip of tea, sniffed nonchalantly, and set down the cup.
“I’ve sometimes thought we were an open secret,” she said. “I needn’t have bothered to hide it in this town.”
“It ended?”
“Months ago. I’m not sure why it started. Tragic, huh? Probably I wanted to get back at Isak. It’s not like Dalton was attractive in any sense of the word. I love Isak, don’t get me wrong, but he’s—what’s the phrase?—emotionally unavailable. He loves his gallery, his dream of being an art maven and sponsor, more than anything else, including me. How did you find out?”
“Someone took a photo of you two together, here at Grove Coffee, and sent it to Mary. She was supposed to publish it in the Post.”
Shasta made a face. “Publish a photo of me and Dalton at Grove Coffee? How is that news?”
“It doesn’t make sense, I know.”
“Doesn’t make sense? It’s idiotic.”
“I don’t think the photo was the point. Along with it, the blackmailer sent a copy of Brodie Keegan’s DUI in Idaho. Have you heard about that?”
Shasta perked up. “No, but tell me more.”
“He also sent the cover page of a lawsuit against Isak for sexual misconduct at the Tilton Academy.”
Expecting an adamant denial, I was surprised when she sighed wearily. “That was going to get out too, one of these days. It was inevitable.”
“Who knew about Minnesota?”
“Anyone who tried to find out, I’d think. An online Minnesota paper wrote about it, and the internet never dies. But someone would have to have an inkling to find it, wouldn’t they? They’d have to suspect. Though with Isak, maybe they did have an inkling.”
“Did you tell anyone in Juniper Grove about it?”
“Only Mary. She might have told Clay. I’m positive Isak’s never told anyone. He won’t even discuss it with me. He’s always . . . he’s always gone for younger ones.”
I stared at her in disbelief. “You’re in your thirties.”
“Thirty-four. Verging on too old for Isak. He has eyes for them ten years younger—for girls like Charlotte Wynn.”
Had Charlotte lied about an affair with Isak? “Has he . . . with Charlotte?”
“I don’t doubt he’s thought about it. You must have noticed he fawns over her. I’m sure he flirts. Thank goodness Charlotte likes Brodie. But I’m sure there have been others.”
“Which is why you wanted to get back at him with Dalton.”
“Dalton was the only weapon I had. Isak found out about us, of course, as I knew he would.”
“How do you think he found out?” I asked.
“He wouldn’t say, and I didn’t care to press it.”
