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home, someone was waiting out in front of Bebe’s house.  
    “Isn’t that your detective guy?” Bebe turned to give me a significant look. Jill gave me the same look. So I frowned, not wanting my non-relationship with the detective to become a part of the banter between us all.  
    But I did take a look myself, and sure enough, it was him, leaning against his car as though he were waiting for someone.
    I looked at my two accomplices. “My guess is that he’s got something he wants to talk to me about,” I said, knowing full well that had to be it. He wanted answers as to why I was skulking around the courtyard at the Meeting House. “If you two don’t mind, I think I’ll stay out here to talk to him.”
    “You don’t want to ask him in?” Bebe said hopefully.
    I shook my head. “Sorry,” was all I could muster at the moment.  
    “What do you think he wants to talk to you about?” Jill asked.  
    “The note, of course,” Bebe told her. Then she looked at me. “Does he know about that?”
    “No.” I grimaced. “And I’m not sure I’m going to tell him. So keep it to yourselves, okay?”
    “We’ll be so discrete, you won’t recognize us,” Bebe said, motioning for Jill to come in, even though she’d been planning to get into her own car and head for home. “But you’ve got to tell us all about this once he goes,” she added warningly.  
    I sighed. Such was the burden of the supplicant niece, I supposed.  
    “Hey,” Bebe called back in a loud whisper. “I just had a thought. What if he’s the one who sent you the note?”
    I thought for a second, then shook my head. “Nah,” I said. “He’s mostly trying to avoid me, not set up a meeting place.” I jerked my head in his direction. “Only now, he wants information. It’s written all over him.”
    “Oh.” She turned away again and gave Jill a significant look.  
    I knew the detective had probably heard some of that exchange, but I didn’t care. I was still plenty annoyed with him.  
    They went into the house and I went over to where he was leaning against his car.  
    “Hi,” I said, trying to sound cool and collected. “Did you have something you wanted to say to me?”
    He didn’t say anything for a long moment. He just stared at me instead, then finally straightened, coming away from his lean on the car, and shoving his hands into the pockets of his slacks.  
    “Come for a walk with me?” he asked, ducking his head toward the vineyards to show where he planned to go.  
    I hesitated.  
    “I think we need to talk,” he said.  
    “Sure,” I said.
    I joined him and began to walk, but at the same time, my heart began to race, wondering what he was going to say. I was really dreading this. What was it going to be? The old brush-off?  
    The old “ Yeah, I thought we might be able to make some sort of relationship out of this, but on reflection, I realize we don’t really match up the way I thought and I’m not in the market for that sort of thing anyway. It’s me, not you. Don’t think twice. Just…move along, okay ?”
    Let it go…let it go. Hah!
    But he surprised me. Instead of going toward the relationship thing, he went straight into murder-land.  
    “I want to know what you were doing by the fountain tonight,” he said. “What made you go out there?”
    I looked at his profile against the moon rising in the background and my heart did one of those little summersault things. Darn it all, why did he have to be so tempting?
    “I already told you.”
    “I didn’t buy it for a minute. Something made you go out there. What was it?”
    I turned it over in my mind. Should I tell him the truth? The note was still in my pocket. I could show it to him. And then what? He would take it as evidence, wouldn’t he? But evidence of what? Of somebody trying to give me information? I wanted to remain open to that. And anyway, how did I know what he wanted to do with it?
    Okay, enough with this wishy-washy stuff. A few