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concern. Regardless of what you’ve assumed, I care about the safety of this town. Negative press for a community that depends on tourist dollars would be bad for business. Believe me, the citizens won’t take kindly to it, or to you. Keep the story about Victor Forgione general until I receive the medical examiner’s report.”
    He stood and walked to the door. Before stepping outside, he turned. “Why did you part the deceased’s lips and take a whiff? You have a fetish for smelling dead people’s breath?”
    Laura placed both hands on the desk to assist her in standing. “Very funny, Deputy. I was checking to see if our guy’s breath smelled like garlic. An experienced cop should know garlic odor is a sign of arsenic poisoning. I’ll still wager you Mr. Forgione was murdered.”
    Mitch’s cocked eyebrows indicated his amusement. “By whom?”
    “The grieving widow, of course. Unless our guy pumped himself full of Viagra, there’s no way a man his age could keep her satisfied. He looked old enough to be her grandfather.”
    “Pure conjecture. Like I said, not a hint of foul play when you print the story. And for the record, I’m not a betting man.”
    “For your information, I print only facts. The Gazette is not a gossip rag.”
    She expected Mitch Carter to slam the door on his way out. Instead, he eased it closed. The click when he pulled it shut was barely audible. But he’d made his point loud and clear. He wasn’t a man who liked people stepping into his territory. If she read him right, he was one tough hombre if crossed, and her instincts were rarely wrong.
    Settled at the computer, she typed: Mitchell Carter, Texas.
    She looked up when the door opened. Seeing her aunt, she closed the laptop. The aroma from the sack in Phyllis’ hand brought a loud rumble from Laura’s stomach. Both women laughed.
    “Lobstah roll, cole slaw, coffee, blueberry taht.”
    “You are my angel, Aunt Philly. Did you bring something for yourself?”
    “Ayuh.” Phyllis dipped into the bag and drew out another tart. “Saw Mitch Carter. He didn’t look happy.”
    Laura took a large bite of her roll, her voice muffled as she spoke. “What’s his story?”
    “If you mean why do we have a deputy from Texas, the answer is that it’s a well-kept secret. We asked Dan Fremont, but all he’d say is it was none of our business. Even gossipy ole Louise Highland’s lips are cemented.”
    Laura uncapped the coffee to let it cool while she finished off the sandwich, then nibbled on the blueberry tart. Her aunt continued. “You have to admit Mitchell Carter is a handsome rascal. Reminds me of Robert Mitchum, the actor—tall and lanky, a little swagger to his walk, and that deep cleft in his chin.” She sighed audibly. “Makes my unmentionable places twitch every time I see him.”
    Phyllis plopped the last of the tart into her mouth. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m old…not dead.”
    “That’s still more information than I want to hear. Let’s change the topic. Who is the town’s coroner?”
    “Ken Musuyo.”
    “Is there a mystery around Dr. Musuyo, also?”
    “If there is, I don’t know about it.”
    “I can tell by the look on your face you’re hedging. What, he’s a third-rate doctor, a medical school failure?”
    Phyllis huffed. “None of that. Ken Musuyo, his wife, and parents are wonderful people. Ken is an excellent doctor. I’d put my life in his hands anytime. Its just that there’s no veterinarian, and people don’t want to drive to Bangor or Ellsworth when their pets get sick.”
    Laura sighed. “Why isn’t there a vet?”
    “Had one. Couldn’t make a living. Not enough business.”
    “I suppose Dr. Musuyo does house calls, too?”
    “Ayuh.”
    “That explains why he wasn’t available down at the docks this morning.”
    “By Godfrey, we heard about that poor man having a heart attack.”
    “Aunt Philly, as much as I love you, I have a paper to put out. I’ll be working late, so