eb93c43e214c621f9157c05b4b6a6878

Marge hesitated but for a moment, then nodded eagerly.“Let’s do it,” she whispered.

In spite of his misgivings, he whispered back,“Don’t tell your mother?”

Marge mimicked locking her lips and throwing away the key.“Cross my heart.”

“And hope to die,” he murmured. “Though on second thought, maybe scratch that.”

“Let’s break the law, Clyde,” Marge smiled.

“Let’s build ourselves an illegal bathroom, Bonnie,” he smiled back.

And so it was decided. After walking the straight and narrow for forty-eight years—well, maybe forty-seven, since the first year of their lives they admittedly hadn’t done a lot of walking—Tex and Marge Poole were embracing the life of crime—and the pitfalls of DIY plumbing.

CHAPTER 3

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Grace had been washed and fed and was sleeping peacefully in her crib, and so Odelia sighed with relief as she nursed her cup of tea and took a breather at the kitchen counter. Chase had left for work and the house was suddenly very quiet, which was exactly the way she liked it. The cats were outside, escaping the din and hubbub a newborn baby inevitably brings, and since she was on maternity leave from work, frankly she had nothing to do and nothing to occupy her time but to take care of Grace.

She idly flipped through a few of the updates her boss had posted on theGazette website and found herself reading some of the articles her replacement had written with a critical eye. Then, realizing how silly she was being, she put down the phone and suddenly found herself wondering what she would do for the rest of the day.

Having spent all of her adult life occupied in gainful employment, this sudden lull in what otherwise was a modestly stellar career was a little disconcerting to say the least. Dan had told her to take it easy for a while, and not to spend even one second thinking about the job. And Chase had told her that from now on she wasn’t to even contemplate assisting him in his own job—no running around fighting crime with a baby tucked in her arms!—and even her uncle had said that her days of gleefully hobnobbing with notorious killers and other scum of the Hampton Cove underworld were finally over—and not a moment too soon!

But if she wasn’t a reporter, and she wasn’t a detective, then what was she?

Grace made a slight gurgling sound in her sleep and Odelia smiled. First and foremost, of course, she was a mother, and maybe that was enough. At least for now.

She did wonder how her cats felt about this whole transition to a more peaceful and uneventful life. Max had assisted her and Chase so many times in collaring criminals and identifying villains that he must be experiencing withdrawal symptoms. Though to be honest he seemed perfectly happy with this new phase in their lives. Content, even.

Just then, her phone vibrated and she immediately picked up, darting a quick glance to Grace. She lowered her voice, not wanting to wake up the baby and said,“Yes, Odelia Kingsley speaking?”

It was an unknown number, and even though she probably should adopt Gran’s stance on unknown callers: namely, to ignore them and when they don’t leave a message report them to your provider and then block them, she simply couldn’t. On your true reporter, worth their salt, a call from an unknown number acts very much like the proverbial red flag to a bull: it heats up the blood and makes their nerve endings sizzle with anticipatory excitement. For who knows, it could be the President, offering an exclusive sit-down to discuss their latest brainwave. Or Adele, suggesting a duet for her next album ’35,’ or Kim Kardashian, offering a part in her new realityshow. Or it could even be a publisher suggesting they publish her autobiography. A girl can only dream!

“Hey, Odelia,” the voice on the other end spoke. “It’s Tessa. Is this a bad time?”

She gulped a little, then managed,“Oh, hey, Tessa!”

She’d met Tessa Torrance and her husband Prince Dante in England a while back, when the couple had been relentlessly hounded by the tabloids and eventually driven out of the country by those rabid newshounds.

“I’m sorry to drop this on you,” said Tessa, “but I’m afraid I need a favor. Again.”

“Absolutely,” she said immediately. “Anything.”

“The thing is… a dear, dear friend of ours finds himself in something of a pickle. And so I was wondering if you could help him out. I wouldn’t be asking you this,” she hastened to add, “if it wasn’t extremely important. You see, he urgently needs a place to lie low for a while, a placewhere no one would think to look for him. In other words: Hampton Cove.”

“Of course,” she said, blinking a few times at this unexpected request. Then she produced what she hoped was a sufficiently airy chuckle. “He’s not a fugitive from justice, is he? Cause I’m not sure Chase would approve if we were harboring a known criminal.”

For a moment Tessa didn’t speak, and Odelia’s cheeks colored. Then her friend said, “I’m afraid you’re going to have to trust me on this, Odelia.”

So this manwas a criminal! Oh, dear.