The Ghost and the Mystery Writer by Anna J. McIntyre Page B

about?”
    â€œAfter your grandma heard—or thought—you were arrested, she said they might pin it on you because of what went on between you and Jolene’s daughter.”
    â€œThat’s old news. Has nothing to do with Jolene’s death. I can’t even imagine why Grandma would bring it up.” He sounded annoyed.
    â€œYour grandma loves you. She just worries about you.”
    With his hands firmly on the steering wheel, Adam revved his engine. He glanced up into the rearview mirror. “I have to go now.”
    â€œSo you aren’t going to tell me?”
    â€œTell you what?” He revved his engine again.
    â€œAbout you and Melony? That’s her name, isn’t it?”
    â€œNone of your business, Danielle,” he said impatiently, glancing back up into the mirror.
    â€œOkay.” Danielle stepped back from the car. “But you know, she’s probably going to be coming to Frederickport this week. Melony, that is.”
    Adam briefly glanced to Danielle and then gunned his engine. In the next moment, he backed out of the parking space and raced from the police department parking lot, without stopping for the stop sign on the corner.
    Somewhat startled, Danielle watched as Adam’s car disappeared down the street. “I really shouldn’t have gone all Lily on him. But there’s a story here.”

Chapter Eight
    W hen Danielle finally returned home that afternoon, she noticed Joanne’s car wasn’t parked in front of Marlow House, but Hillary’s was. She glanced over to Ian’s house before turning into her drive and noticed Ian’s vacant driveway. Lily and Ian aren’t back from Portland.
    It suddenly dawned on Danielle that she had been so busy all day, she hadn’t called or texted Lily. Since she hadn’t heard from Lily, she had to assume her roommate didn’t know about the murder, which she found peculiar considering Ian’s sister, Kelly, was dating Sergeant Morelli. She would have assumed Joe had already filled Kelly in on all the details, which Kelly would then relay to her brother.
    Sadie greeted Danielle the moment she entered the kitchen, with a wet nose eagerly sniffing and a wagging tail. Hillary Hemmingway sat at the kitchen table, eating a sandwich, while Walt lounged against the kitchen counter, his arms folded across his chest.
    â€œWhere have you been all day?” Walt asked the question in spite of the fact Danielle couldn’t directly answer it—not with her guest sitting in the kitchen.
    Hillary set her sandwich on her plate and smiled up at Danielle. “You just missed Joanne. She left about ten minutes ago.”
    â€œIt’s been a crazy day.” Danielle tossed her purse on the kitchen counter and grabbed a glass from the overhead cabinet. “Did you hear about the murder?” She filled her glass with water and then turned to face the older woman.
    â€œOh yes. One of Joanne’s friends called her, told her someone was mugged on the beach last night. Have you heard if they’ve caught him yet?”
    Danielle took a seat at the table. “Unfortunately, no.”
    â€œI hope you have more information. Joanne didn’t tell us anything. Or should I say, she didn’t tell Hillary much,” Walt said.
    â€œI must say, it was comforting having Sadie here. What with a killer on the loose. I kept all the doors locked while you were gone,” Hillary explained.
    â€œWho was murdered?” Walt asked. “Were you off helping the chief? Is that where you’ve been all day?”
    â€œI don’t think we’re in any danger, but it’s always good to keep the doors locked,” Danielle said. “I knew the woman who was killed—Jolene Carmichael.” Danielle glanced up to Walt; their eyes met.
    â€œI’m sorry, was she a good friend of yours?” Hillary asked.
    Danielle sipped her water and then said, “No. She was more