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but usually I’m pretty happy to have them around. How about you? Miss your parents?”
    “My mom,” I said. Thinking of her gave me a twinge. At some point, I’d have to tell her about finding Timothy Enright’s body. She wasn’t going to like it. “I do miss her. I think it was time for me to spread my wings a little, though . . . take a flight a little farther from the nest.”
    Todd grinned. “If I had a beer, I’d drink to that.”
     
     
    After Todd left, I went upstairs to the master suite. I put on some soft music, took a warm bath, donned my favorite flannel pajamas, and confronted the inevitable. I called Mom.
    I’d propped my pillows up against the headboard of my bed and slid under the covers, so I’d settled in for a long conversation. I was hoping to be able to pretend this was no big deal. I didn’t want Mom to come rushing all the way across the country from her film location in upstate New York to my rescue. She’d done that a little too often in the past. It was time for me to stand on my own two feet. . . . Although, in a way, it would’ve been nice to have Mom there to lean on.
    She answered on the first ring.
    “Hi, Mom. It’s me.”
    “Hello, darling! How is everything? I’m so sorry I missed your party last night. It must have been wonderful fun.”
    “It . . . it was. Everybody was really supportive and seemed to be excited about the shop.”
    “Fantastic.”
    “Yeah.”
    “That was a loaded yeah if I’ve ever heard one,” she said. “What’s going on?”
    “There was a man at the party last night who was drunk. And this morning, Angus and I found him in the storeroom.”
    “He’d passed out in your storeroom?”
    “Um . . . I guess you could say that,” I hedged. “He . . . um . . . he—”
    “Marcella?” She’d taken on that stern tone she’d always used when I was in trouble as a little girl.
    “He died,” I said. I blinked furiously, daring myself to cry.
    “He died ?”
    “Yeah . . . he was . . . he was dead when Angus and I found him.”
    “Oh, darling. Do you need me to come out?”
    “No, Mom, I’m fine. Really. I just had to close the shop for a few days until the cleaning crew can get the stockroom back in order.”
    “Well, if you need me, you know I’ll hop on the next plane out,” she said.
    “I know, but really, everything is fine. Just a minor aggravation, more or less.”
    She sighed. “Still, finding that man in your storeroom must’ve scared you silly. I’m sorry this had to happen. Leave it to some drunken buffoon to wander in and not only spoil your party, but make you have to shut down your store to boot. What a shame.”
    “Yeah . . . what a shame.”
    We made small talk for a few more minutes before signing off. I heard Angus’ toenails clicking on the hardwood floor outside my room.
    “Come on, Angus,” I said.
    Tail wagging, he obliged, jumping up onto the bed. I stroked his fur, happy for the company. Mom had been put out about Timothy Enright’s spoiling my party and store opening, but my mind kept going back to the fact that he was there to tell me something. Something important. And if the authorities were correct and he had been poisoned, it might’ve been something that cost Mr. Enright his life.
     
     
    I spent most of the next day in a state of anxious listlessness. I fielded calls, answered questions, but mostly tried to keep a low profile.
    After Mrs. Enright’s scathing accusations, I wanted to talk with my landlord, Mr. Trelawney, to see just what had happened to cause Timothy Enright to close his business.
    I called Mr. Trelawney’s number, and his wife answered.
    “Hello, Mrs. Trelawney. This is Marcy Singer.”
    “Oh, hello, dear. I’m glad you called. Are you enjoying your shop? I so wanted to come to your little party the other evening, but I was a bit under the weather. Allergies, I suppose. But I do hope you had a nice time.”
    It was really strange that she didn’t appear to know about the