If Cody’s business had expanded too fast, he was almost certainly having cash-flow problems. If he was having cash-flow problems, the fact that Brown and Emily had been late with their bike payments could have been a serious financial hardship. And if Cody was under financial stress, anger could easily have surfaced. And if he was angry, could he have been angry enough to kill?

*   *   *

After dinner, I told my aunt and Otto to stay put and finish the wine and I went to take care of the dishes. Two minutes later, they wandered into the kitchen and sat in the window seat so we could all discuss the latest escapades of my niece Kate, oldest daughter of my brother and his wife. Kate had spent much of the previous summer with me. It hadn’t started well, but by August I was confident we’d established a lifelong bond.

“Kate said she’s dyed her hair purple,” I said.

My aunt approved. “A good color for her.”

“Not sure her parents agree.”

Otto poured the last of the wine into my aunt’s glass. “Isn’t that the basic role for parents?”

He’d asked the question with a laugh, but I thought about it seriously as I put a large sauté pan into the sink and ran hot water into it. Was that what parents were supposed to do? Scowl and lay down rules and regulations? Probably, but couldn’t they also be fun loving and happy? Maybe, but those things were polar opposites, and how on earth could you do both?

I sighed. Rafe and I, as an engaged couple, should be talking about these things, especially now that I was a smidgen closer to forty years old than thirty. But, like a number of other serious issues, we hadn’t discussed it at all.

“Note to self,” I murmured to the soapsuds. “Start discussing the big things.”

“What was that, Minnie?” my aunt asked. “Don’t talk to the sink if you want us to hear.”

Smiling, I flicked a dollop of suds in her direction. “Is that any way to talk to your favorite niece? After all, I have another aunt now, and—” I broke off because my pants pocket was buzzing with an incoming text.

Tabitha: Found Warren Jorgenson. Bowling alley in ten?

Minnie (after trying to text with wet fingers, failing, then drying her hands like she should have in the first place): Make it fifteen.

“Who was that?” Aunt Frances asked.

I grinned. “Your competition.”

*   *   *