Streak of Lightning by Clare O'Donohue

like Jesse, you didn’t know how to analyze a quilt block, you might look at this quilt as being impossibly hard. The trick, as I had explained to him yesterday, was to isolate the block.
    And the trick here, I knew, was to isolate each clue, each incident. And that’s what I had to do—starting with the first unanswered question, Lori’s reaction to Rich.
    â€œI know it’s going to be busy,” I said to Eleanor as I put on my coat. “But I’ll bring you back lunch.”
    â€œYou’re leaving the sale to get lunch?”
    â€œChinese takeout, to be precise about it.”
    I drove to Morristown, which was just on the other side of the park, and headed down their Main Street to the restaurant. If this place had spooked Lori, maybe I could figure out why. It was a desperate move, but it was all I had.
    It was closed. At first I assumed they were extending their New Year’s break, but when I got to the door, I could see the restaurant had gone out of business. A WE’RE RETIRING! THANKS FOR YOUR MANY YEARS OF LOYAL SUPPORT . sign was in the window along with another, larger one: CALL MG MANAGEMENT TO LEASE THIS SPACE , written above the same phone number I’d found in Violet’s shop.
    Violet was moving her shop to Morristown? If so, that explained why she had the number, but it didn’t get me one step closer to finding out who had hit Joe in the head or why the mention of the restaurant had rattled Lori.
    Dumb as it was, there was only one more thing I could think of to get to the truth. I had a growing reputation in Archers Rest for being the town’s Miss Marple, a quirky busybody who liked to get involved in police investigations. The fact that I was usually right didn’t seem to lessen the amusement factor, and being the butt of jokes, however lovingly told, bothered me more than I cared to admit.
    I stood a long time in front of the Chinese restaurant trying to come up with a better way to find the answers I needed. But I couldn’t think of one. If the killer was ever going to be found, it had to be now, before Greg’s career was ruined. It could all blow up in my face, I knew, but sometimes it’s hard to tell the difference between a WIP and a WOMBAT.

Chapter 14
    â€œYou can’t be serious!” Violet said, making her irritation clear. “You’re gathering us all in one place to unveil the killer? Isn’t that a little cold, literally and figuratively?”
    I could see her point. Along with the rest of my suspects, Lori was standing in the windy January cold staring at the front of Everything Pizza. “I thought it was a heart attack,” she kept saying. “Why would anyone hit him over the head?”
    Jesse, Rich, and Greg looked uncomfortable; Eleanor put her arm around Lori to provide comfort and warmth; Violet looked mad; and Detective Terri Adkin just looked amused.
    â€œI appreciate your being here, Detective,” I told her.
    â€œAs I told you before, I’ve heard all about your, um, crime-solving skills.” She suppressed a laugh. “I’m just happy to see it in person, even if it is a waste of time.”
    â€œIt’s not. Nell is very good at figuring these things out,” Eleanor jumped in. I smiled at my grandmother’s defense of me, and quietly hoped she was right, that I wasn’t wasting anyone’s time or making a fool of myself.
    â€œOkay, so what’s the plan now, Miss Fitzgerald?” Adkin asked. “Someone jumps up and confesses to killing Mr. Proctor?”
    Truth was, I didn’t have a plan. I was out of plans. Everyone had a reason to hate Joe, but no one wanted him dead, not really. That was the only logical conclusion I’d reached, and it was completely illogical because someone had killed him.
    â€œRich was in the pizza place at about one o’clock,” I started.
    â€œI didn’t hit him with nothing,” he said.
    â€œNo,