“Max Compton,” Mr. Zonne mused as he climbed the stairs as easily as the children had. “He was three years ahead of me in school, but he was such a horrible baseball player that we spent a lot of time together on the bench. I didn’t realize you knew him.”

“Small town,” I said, smiling. Then, since this was indeed a small town, I asked if he knew Warren Jorgenson.

“Jorgenson.” He rubbed his chin. “Nope, don’t know any Jorgensons. Sorry.”

I sighed. It had been worth a shot.

Julia looked up from the back computer desk, where she’d been entering returns. “How about Natalie Conti?”

Mr. Zonne held up his hands, palms out. “Oh, no. I don’t want that woman to hear even the faintest whisper of me saying uncomplimentary things about her. And since that would be the only kind of thing I can say about her . . .” He made the classic zipping-the-lips motion.

My plan for a cozy chat with Mia’s grandmother was officially placed into the circular file. But . . . “How about our murder victims?”

“Brown Bernier.” Mr. Zonne leaned against the children’s nonfiction section. “He came from a different generation, and his parents were a decade older than yours truly. Can’t help you there, sorry.”

My expectations, which had been rising in a dramatic fashion, dropped like a rock. “Thanks, anyway, it—”

Mr. Zonne talked over me. “Emmy Sue, however, is a different matter.”

Julia and I exchanged a glance. Had Mr. Zonne’s razor-sharp memory started to fail? The floor under my feet suddenly seemed uneven and precarious. “Um, her name was Emily,” I said gently. “Emily Acosta.”

“Now, yes,” Mr. Zonne said, smiling a bit smugly. “But forty-five years ago, she was Emmy Sue Worman, working as an assistant clerk for the city the Monday after she graduated from high school.”

I blinked. “She . . . what?”

“Not sure how long she worked there.” Mr. Zonne squinted, then shook his head. “A few years. But she moved downstate probably thirty-five years ago. Started going by Emily and got married.”

“She’s from Chilson?” I asked wonderingly. “Why didn’t we know this?”

Mr. Zonne shrugged. “She was an only child. Her parents moved downstate soon after she did, to be closer. Her mother and my wife were some sort of cousins and they kept up, but now they’re all gone and since Emmy Sue moved back, apparently she hadn’t yet reconnected with former classmates.”

He rubbed his chin again. “She always was a solitary child, so I suppose that isn’t much of a surprise. To be honest, the surprising part is that she came back at all.”

It was a good question. But an even better question was, did Ash and Hal know that Emily Acosta was also Emmy Sue Worman?

*   *   *