As usual, Eleanor’s knowledge of the locals astounded him. “How do you know all that?”

She brushed a stray strand of hair back into the upsweep she favored. “His wife, Kimberly, and I are in the same garden club. But Dave is well known in this county and the surrounding area, thanks to his business. I believe he has clients in a fairly large radius.”

“What could he know about Mavis and Fred?”

“I haven’t a clue. It’s possible they did business with him, I suppose. But why would he have information about their deaths? Besides, weren’t both ruled natural?”

“Yes—although Grace Reilly has suspicions. Those haven’t amounted to anything yet, but she strikes me as a sharp woman with excellent insights. Also a go-getter. She hasn’t let go of her theory, and this”—he lifted the sheet of paper—“may give it legs.”

“My.” The woman’s eyes widened. “What is this world coming to if a person can’t be safe in their own home in a quiet place like this?”

“Nowhere is safe these days.” He set the paper on his desk. “I believe a bit of research on Mr. Mullins is in order, along with a visit.”

“That will be quite upsetting for him—and Kimberly. Do you think this could be a crank tip? From someone who doesn’t like him?”

“I’m not ruling that out. If it is, he doesn’t have anything to worry about, and a chat with law enforcement shouldn’t upset him too much. I’ll visit him at his office rather than home to avoid disturbing his wife.”

“That would be considerate. Now I’ll let you get back to whatever you were doing.”

As she exited and closed the door, Nate tapped the slip of paper. Grace would be interested in this unexpected turn of events.

Before he told her about the latest development, though, he’d do his homework. As Eleanor had noted, the tip could be a dead end. No sense getting her hopes up if this didn’t pan out.

But maybe he could finally squeeze in a call to her and set up their dinner date.

He swiveled his chair to his computer, answered the two emails that had come in while he talked to Eleanor, and picked up his cell again. As he lifted his finger to dial her number, his landline rang. An internal call from Eleanor.

Blast.

If this was any indication how the rest of his Friday was going to play out, he’d be doing a juggling act all afternoon.

He picked up the landline and set down the cell. “Yes?”

“Sheriff, sorry to bother you again. I have a Roger Atwood on the line. He’s an attorney, and he says he has a client with information that’s relevant to several of the cases on your desk.”

“Did he say which ones?”

“No.”

Nate eyed the cellphone. Much as he wanted to talk to Grace, that conversation would have to wait.

“Go ahead and put him through.”

“Would you mind if I run over to the Spotted Hen for a quick lunch?”