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best to hide my confusion. I certainly didn't want to be rude, but I desperately wanted to ask how the heck she was so young--or looked so young at least--with so many kids.
    And how did she afford to dress so well if she was apparently so desperate to win the prize money? She wore a crisp floral dress in pink and green and her hair was pulled back with a matching headband. She looked the picture of the perfect homemaker. Not someone struggling to put food on the table.
    "Can we come in?" I asked, still trying to hide my look of surprise.
    "Who are you?"
    That was a good question. I should have led with that. "My name is Rachael Robinson."
    I saw her face change. Not that it had been soft, exactly, but now her mouth formed into a hard line. "Right. The contestant that beat me to get onto the show. I see."
    I didn't know that was official yet. Had I really gotten onto the show?
    Right. Not the right time to focus on that.
    "What are you doing here? Come to rub my nose in it, have you?"
    I shook my head and put my hands up. "No, of course not."
    I've just come to accuse you of killing someone.
    Probably best not to say it quite like that.
    "What then?"
    I cleared my throat. "I'm sure you've heard about Pierre's death," I said, trying to be delicate.
    Renee raised her eyebrows. "I've heard that he was murdered, yes. On set, apparently."
    "Yes. Apparently." I turned to Pippa, begging her silently for help.
    "Erm," she said, turning towards Renee. "You didn't happen to see anything suspicious yesterday, did you?"
    Renee lowered her eyes. "What is it to either of you two? I've already spoken to the police. Why are you at my house?"
    I decided to just be honest with her. "Look. The police in this town don't always do the best job when it comes to things like this. Sometimes they need a little...help. So that's all I'm trying to do. I'm concerned—just like you are, I'm sure—about what happened to Pierre. What does it mean for our town?" I decided to try a slightly different tactic. "What does it mean for the future of the show? I'm sure you're anxious to find out whether you got on."
    "What does it matter whether Pierre is alive or dead? I blew the audition."
    "Hey, I thought I did too," I said, trying to be sympathetic. "But Justin assured me that I didn't. Apparently I did better than I thought I did."
    Renee scoffed. "There was no 'apparently' about it. Everyone knew you were getting through. Everyone knew you were Pierre's little favorite,” she said with a hiss before trying to shut the door on us.
    Pippa shot me a look .
    What is going on here?
    "Renee, please, if you could just let us talk to you for a minute! Pierre didn't even seem to like me! He didn't even like my baking that much."
    She shut the door with my foot caught between it and that doorframe. "Ouch!"
    "I'm sure your baking wasn't the reason he liked you!"
    I yanked my foot out before it got jammed again, before Renee slammed the door for good.
    "What was all that about?" Pippa asked, clearly enthralled by the drama but trying to look sympathetic for my sake.
    "I think my foot is broken." I tried to flex my toes and winced. "And I have no idea what all that was about. That was crazy, right?"
    "Had you met her before?"
    I shook my head. "This was the first time I ever laid eyes on the woman. I never even heard of her until this morning."
    "Well, it seems like she knows an awful lot about you."
    "Pippa," I said, slightly offended. "Whatever she was just suggesting, and I'm not even sure what that was, none of it is true. You know that, right?"
    Pippa shrugged. "Hey, if you had to flirt with a judge to get onto a reality show, then I don't blame you."
    "Pippa! I didn't. I only met Pierre the one time, at my audition. And I was so nervous I could hardly even speak to him. Let alone flirt."
    The curtains to the front porch pulled back to reveal Renee's face scowling at us.
    "Right. We should probably get off her porch."

    * * *
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