The Case Of The Cupid Caper

Chapter 1

Friday

Callie Considers

Submitted for the February 3rd issue of the Foxtail News

By Calliope Rose Collins

Love, I’ve learned, has many faces.

In its purest form, it is giving and selfless, demanding nothing in return. It bolsters and enriches, and when cultivated in the soul and nurtured in the heart, it can sustain us through even our darkest hours.

But love, when born purely from desire, can also be selfish and demanding. The need to possess can burn hot, bringing us passion and excitement, but eventually, the intense flame will destroy itself and simply fade away.

I’ve lived with love in all its guises. I’ve been strengthened by its promise and weakened by its loss. I’m both a better and a lesser person for having made peace with its many faces.

Six months ago, a matchmaker known only as Ms. Cupid appeared on the local scene and began stealthily helping lonely souls find love by arranging the perfect date for the perfect pairing. Not only has Ms. Cupid been extremely successful at making these matches, but she appears to have her own reason for doing what she does. As far as I can tell, she has yet to charge anyone a single dollar for her admittedly unique service, though she seems to have put quite a lot of time into her project.

While Cupid of classic mythology used his magic arrow to bring hope to the lovelorn, Ms. Cupid, it seems, has added her own twist — a secret ingredient which involves a dose of technology mixed with carefully screening potential clients. After speaking to several of the matched couples in preparation for penning this column, I’ve found that, by and large, those lonely souls desperately seeking a match, have been more than happy with the outcome of Ms. Cupid’s service. One client called her methodology unconventional yet effective, while another referred to the service as insightful and life-changing.

Over the next few weeks, I plan to interview each of the matched couples in the hope of debunking the mystery surrounding this unidentified woman and her unprecedented success. I invite you, my faithful readers, to come along as I peel back the layers to determine whether these seemingly perfect pairings are due to some sort of supernatural insight, chance, or simply science.

I glanced toward the attic window where my Aunt Gracie’s cat, Alastair, waited for me to finish my weekly column, Callie Considers, for next week’s issue of the Foxtail News. Although I’d been given a desk at the office in town, I still preferred to work in my quiet little corner of the attic in the lakefront home where I’d grown up and currently lived with Gracie. “So, what do you think?” I asked as I hit the print button.

“Meow.”

“It’s brief,” I admitted as I looked down at the printed product. “But I think it’s a solid intro to the series I plan to write. I just hope Dex likes it,” I referred to my boss and editor, Dex Heatherton. I hit send on the file and sent it off. Getting up from the desk, I headed across the room, out the door, and down the stairs. Alastair followed behind.

“You’re up and about early,” Gracie said after I entered the kitchen where she was having breakfast with her friend and groundskeeper, Tom Walden.

“I wanted to head into town early today. I need to meet with Dex about my column for next week, and then I have several interviews set up for my Ms. Cupid series.”

“How’d the column you’ve been working on this week turn out?” she asked.

I handed the printed copy to her to read. I watched as she narrowed her gaze and raised her brow. I supposed I had exaggerated my own experience with love just a bit, and I supposed she knew it.

She glanced in my direction. “It’s very poetic.”

“I know what you’re thinking, and you’d be correct in the fact that, due to the family curse, I haven’t actually enjoyed the varied love life I hinted at in the intro, but I thought about it and decided that a little embellishment was harmless. I suppose I could have left the part about having experienced love in all its guises out of the narrative, but I figured it would make for a better column if my readers assumed I’d had an extensive love life and therefore knew what I was talking about.”

Tom didn’t say anything, but I did notice he tightened his lips when I mentioned the family curse. I guessed I didn’t blame him. I suspected he loved Gracie, and I was certain she loved him in return, but I also knew she’d never act on her feelings due to her belief in the curse we believed was responsible for the deaths of her sister and my parents.

“Will you be home for dinner?” she asked, I was sure more to fill the silence than to discover the answer to the question since I was rarely home for dinner on Fridays.

“No. I don’t think so. Cass and I have our volunteer shift at the animal shelter, and we usually grab a bite after. I did confirm with Paisley that she is going to her friend, Anna’s, after school, so we don’t need to worry about picking her up.” Paisley was our next-door neighbor who has lived with her grandmother since the death of her mother, and Gracie and I helped out where we could. “I also need to line up the interviews with those matched individuals I haven’t been able to contact.” I glanced at Tom. “Doesn’t Warren Smith belong to the same lodge you do?”

“Yeah, Warren is a member. Why do you ask?”

“He’s one of Ms. Cupid’s most recent success stories. I’ve been trying to track him down in the hope of lining up an interview, but he isn’t returning my calls. I wondered if you would encourage him to call me if you see him before I’m able to contact him.”

“Warren Smith signed up for a dating service?” Tom looked shocked by the news.

“Actually, he didn’t sign up,” I answered. “Madeline Jefferies signed up, and Ms. Cupid somehow determined that Warren would be Madeline’s perfect mate, so even though he wasn’t one of her clients, she arranged for them to meet.”

“So Ms. Cupid matches her clients to random people in the community whether they’ve signed on for the service or not?” Gracie asked.

“That’s what I understand.” I tilted my head slightly as I stopped to consider this. “I know that seems odd. When I first heard about Madeline’s pairing with Warren, I was surprised that any dating service would match clients with non-clients, but it does appear that at least some of the couplings attributed to Ms. Cupid have been between a client looking for love and a non-client who was selected by Ms. Cupid to be a perfect match.”

Tom slowly shook his head. “I’m not sure how I feel about that. It seems invasive to me. Besides, how would this Ms. Cupid even know enough about the person she planned to match her client with to know they’d get along if he or she hadn’t filled out a questionnaire?”

“I’m really not sure,” I admitted. “I assume Ms. Cupid resides in the community and knows the people who live here. The matchmaking service doesn’t appear to be a normal dating site where clients sign up and are matched with each other based on a dating profile. It seems to be a lot more personalized.”

“You said that Ms. Cupid arranged for Madeline to run into Warren. How exactly did that play out?” Gracie asked.

I poured myself a cup of coffee and sat down at the table. “According to Madeline, who I briefly spoke with on the phone, she received an email from Ms. Cupid after she was accepted as a client telling her to go to the lumber yard and ask to speak to someone named Warren.”

“How did Ms. Cupid know that Madeline would find Warren at the lumber yard?” Gracie asked.

“Warren owns the lumber yard, so I imagine that Ms. Cupid had reason to suspect he’d be there. Anyway, Madeline was told to ask Warren for help selecting wood for bookshelves. She was instructed to draw out the process and ask a lot of questions. Madeline did as she was instructed, which provided the initial meeting between Madeline and Warren. I guess once they met, it really was attraction at first sight. Warren offered to help Madeline build the bookshelves, and now they are seriously dating.”

“That’s crazy,” Tom said.

I shrugged. “I agree. In fact, at this point, I wouldn’t be surprised to find out that Ms. Cupid is using some sort of fairy dust to make people fall in love. My plan is to talk to as many of Ms. Cupid’s matches as possible and see if I can figure out exactly what sort of magic she employs to produce such a huge success rate.”

“I assume she only takes on clients she feels she has a match for,” Tom said.

“I would agree with that,” I answered. “Based on my research, it appears as if Ms. Cupid only accepts a very small percentage of the people who apply as clients. I will say, however, that once she accepts you as a client, the odds of you finding true love within a few months is pretty darn high.”

“I suppose if I was desperately seeking romance, which I’m not,” Gracie stated firmly, “I might succumb to this sort of thing if I’d tried it on my own and gotten nowhere.”

“That’s because you are the outgoing and curious sort who is willing to try new things. Not everyone is.” Tom pointed out.

Gracie winked at him. He smiled. If there were ever two people who should have spent a lifetime together, it was them.

“So, what are the two of you up to today?” I asked mostly to break the awkward silence.

“I’m going to start painting the den, which your aunt wants to convert to a sewing space,” Tom said.

“You’re going to turn the den into a sewing room?” I asked Gracie.

She nodded. “Paisley has shown an interest in learning to sew. I thought I’d teach her, and it does help if the workspace is outfitted correctly. I’m painting the room in a pale blue. Learning to sew can be stressful, and blue is a soothing color. You can join us if you’d like.”

“Thanks, but no thanks,” I replied. Gracie had tried to teach me to sew when I was around Paisley’s age, but I’d hated it.

“I’m going to head into town while Tom works on the painting,” Gracie added. “I’ve been trying to drop in on Nora a couple times a week.”

Nora Nottaway was a good friend of Gracie’s, and like Gracie, she’d lived in Foxtail Lake her entire life. Nora had been diagnosed with cancer the previous summer and had been receiving treatment. Based on what Gracie had told me, she’d responded well, and there was genuine hope that she’d make a full recovery. I guess with something like this, only time would reveal the answer to the prayers being offered by most everyone in the community.

I glanced at the clock and realized I needed to get going if I was going to meet with Dex and make it to my first appointment of the day on time. “I really need to run,” I said as I poured my coffee into a travel mug. “Tell her that I’ve been holding a special place in my heart and my prayers for her.”

“I will, dear. Have a nice day.”

I waved to my favorite senior couple and then headed out to my four-wheel drive. Although it hadn’t snowed all that much in the past few days, it had been cold, which made the roads icy, so I drove slowly. I loved the scenery along the route into town from the lake house, where Gracie and I lived. The majestic mountains in the background provided the perfect backdrop for the wide-open meadows and currently frozen rivers.

“Morning, Gabby,” I greeted the receptionist at Foxtail News after I arrived at the small office and print shop. “Is he in?”

“He’s in his office,” Gabby answered.

I set my purse on the desk that had recently been assigned to me, grabbed a note pad and pen, and then headed down the hall to Dex’s office. I knocked on the door once, and he called for me to come in.

“I read the column you sent over,” he greeted after I opened the door and entered his office.

“So, what do you think?” I sat down on the chair across the desk from him.

“I like it.” He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms across his chest. “It’s seasonal with a wide appeal, and there is an element of mystery that your readers seem to love. Have you set up interviews with all of the individuals matched by Ms. Cupid?”

“I have interviews set up with eighty percent of the matched pairs, but there are a few individuals who are being evasive,” I answered. “I’m working on that and have enough to get started. I’m planning to feature several couples in each of the columns that are scheduled to run in the next few weeks.”

“And do you have an interview set up with Ms. Cupid? Or the person or persons behind the dating site?”

“Well,” I backpedaled, “not yet. The problem is that I haven’t been able to track down the person or persons behind the site. I haven’t given up looking, and I’m sure that given enough time, I can figure it out.”

“Maybe you should sign up for the service yourself as a means of getting an insider’s view of how the whole thing works,” Dex suggested.

I thought about Ms. Cupid’s nearly one hundred percent success rate and cringed at the idea. I had lived my life in the shadow of a curse I believed in with all my heart. The last thing I needed was to come face to face with my soulmate. “I think your idea is a good one, and having an insider’s view could provide a certain benefit, but at this point, I think I’d rather write my story from the outside as a casual observer. Maybe Gabby would be interested in finding her soulmate. If she’s willing to sign up, and if Ms. Cupid selects her as a client, I can get an insider’s perspective of the journey every step of the way, while keeping the story at arms-length so I don’t lose my objectivity.”

He nodded. “That seems like a reasonable compromise.”

“Okay, I’ll talk to her.” I gathered up my belongings. “And thanks for supporting the idea. With Valentine’s Day just around the corner, I really wanted to do something that fits the season.”

“You hit it out of the ballpark with your series on Secret Santa in December, and New Year’s resolutions in January. I think you are really onto something with the seasonal stuff.”

“Thanks. I really appreciate the opportunity you’ve given me. I want to do a good job for you, the newspaper, and our readers.”

I spoke to Dex for a few more minutes and then went to find Gabby. I explained my need for a guinea pig for my story. As I predicted she would be, Gabby was delighted to help out.”

“You aren’t otherwise encumbered?” I asked.

“Not at all.”

“It’s just that I’ve noticed you noticing Gabe and thought there might be something going on there.” Gabe was a very attractive man who worked part-time delivering newspapers to the businesses in town that carried them.

“Gabe is sweet and funny, and he has to be one of the best looking men in town, but he’s basically a thirty-year-old paperboy. He’s asked me out a couple of times, but I’ve made up reasons to turn him down. If I was twenty again and looking for someone to simply have some fun with, then I might be interested in a fling with someone like Gabe, but when it comes to finding a guy to settle down with, I need someone who is responsible. Someone who has drive and ambition.”

I supposed I could see that. At some point, it really was time to grow up. “Okay then, let’s do this. The first step is to fill out the application and interview. If you’d like, we can do that together.”

“I’d appreciate the help.”

“Okay log onto the site and let’s see what sort of information Ms. Cupid is requiring,” I instructed.

I had to admit the questions asked were not at all what I’d been expecting. Once the basic information regarding name, age, gender, sexual preference, and residence were taken care of, the website launched into a series of questions, which, in my opinion, had nothing to do with your suitability as a potential mate.

“Would you describe me as being more yellow, orange, or red?” Gabby asked.

I raised a brow. “That’s one of the questions?”

“It is.”

“Well,” I tilted my head as I considered the colors. “Yellow is a sunny and bright color. You always appear to be happy and cheerful, and you greet everyone with a smile, so I’d say yellow fits. But you are also passionate about the things you care about, and to me, red is more of a passionate color, so I feel like it fits as well. Orange feels like the most creative of the three colors offered, and you are creative. Wow, this really is a hard question. What do you think? Are you feeling more yellow, orange, or red?”

“Orange. I’m going to go with orange. I bet most people pick yellow or red, and I really want to stand out.”

Okay, I supposed Gabby wanting to choose the least commonly picked color said something about her, which might be the point of the question.

“Flower, shrub, or tree?” she asked.

“Is that the entire question?”

She nodded. “There are three choices, and you are asked to pick one. No further explanation is provided. I’m not sure if the question builds on the previous question, and they’re asking if I feel more like a flower, shrub, or tree, or if they simply want to know which I like better. Or maybe they’re asking what I’d like to be if I had to be one of the three.”

This was insane. “Okay, if you had to be a flower, shrub, or tree, which would you want to be?”

She paused to think about it. “Flowers are beautiful. They are colorful and often smell wonderful, and they bring happiness and a smile to others. I can see myself as a flower, but they are also easily destroyed. People pick them and leave them to die, and children and animals easily trample upon them. A shrub, on the other hand, is sturdy. It may or may not have color or scent, but most shrubs are hearty and well-rooted. They can provide protection from the elements but aren’t really affected by the wind the way something tall like a tree would be, and they aren’t easily destroyed. Trees are tall and majestic, which appeals to me quite a lot. They provide shade and often are home to wildlife. But, as I’ve already stated, they do tend to get blown around, and people cut them down to harvest their wood. I like the idea of being beautiful like a flower or tall and majestic like a tree, but I think I’d rather be sturdy and well-rooted like a shrub.”

I had to admit that in spite of the craziness of the questions, they did seem to cause those answering them to really stop and think about what they wanted from a different perspective. I’d only known Gabby a couple of months and had only interacted with her as a work associate, but in just a few minutes, I’d learned quite a bit about who she was as a person. “So, what’s next?” I asked.

“Earth, wind, water, or fire.”

We spent some time going over what each of the elements seemed to represent before Gabby chose earth. It was odd because had we not answered the previous two questions together, I would have guessed that Gabby would have chosen wind since it was light and breezy or fire for the imagery of passion and intensity. When she read the question, I immediately knew she’d consider all the options, but in the end, based on her answers to the first two questions, that she’d choose earth as her element. Maybe these crazy questions did provide a lot more insight than I’d originally thought.

After Gabby answered all the questions, she submitted her application. Now all she had to do was wait. There was a disclaimer on the introductory page that let those applying know that not all applications would be accepted and not all applicants paired. I knew the odds of Gabby being chosen as a client were slim, but an insider view would be invaluable, so I really hoped she’d be one of the few.

“Thanks for being a good sport and helping out,” I said once we’d completed the application. “I really do hope Ms. Cupid agrees to take you on as a client and can find a compatible shrub for you to spend your life with.”

“Me too,” she smiled. “I really think I’m ready to settle down with my one true love. I wasn’t a year ago, but now, all I can see when I look into the future is a family, complete with a white picket fence.”

“Hopefully, you will be chosen, and we will both benefit from this experiment. If you hear back from Ms. Cupid, call me. I’ll come right over. I think it’s important for my story that I’m involved in every step of the process.”

“I’ll totally call you if I hear back. Are you leaving now?”

I nodded. “I’m meeting with the first of my matched couples, Bill Littleton and Della Newton. After that, I have an appointment with Dale Conover and Lissa Nixon. Do you know any of these individuals?”

“Bill is a dentist. He’s probably around forty-five. Nice guy, but sort of socially awkward if you know what I mean. Bill is recently divorced after having been married for maybe five years. Della owns a boutique in town. She’s in her forties. As far as I know, she has never been married. She has this big city vibe about her. She always takes time with her clothing, hair, and makeup, even when it’s snowing. I’m not sure why she lives in Foxtail Lake. She screams big city all the way.”

I’d never met either Bill or Della, but based on Gabby’s descriptions, I felt I had a good idea what to expect. “And Lissa and Dale. Do you know them as well?”

“No. I don’t think so. There is a woman named Lissa who works at the market, but I don’t know if it’s the same Lissa. The Lissa who bags my groceries is maybe thirty-five. She’s never mentioned a husband or children, but the total duration of our conversation is never longer than it takes for me to check out.”

“I guess I’ll find out if Dale’s Lissa is the Lissa from the market once we speak. Don’t forget to call me if you hear anything.”

“I won’t. I know it’s crazy to even hope I’ll be chosen, but I’m really excited about this.”

After I left the newspaper, I headed down the main street toward the boutique Della owned. I’d decided to speak to Della and Bill separately, although Lissa had insisted that she and Dale be interviewed together. I figured that by the time I met with everyone I’d scheduled for today, it would be time to head to the animal shelter where I volunteered first as a trainer and then as a doggy play companion.

“Della Newton?” I asked the tall thin woman wearing a designer suit and three-inch heels after I arrived at the boutique I’d been told she owned. My immediate impression was that, while she was stunning, she was dressed all wrong for cold and casual Foxtail Lake.

“You must be Callie.” She offered me her hand. “I’m so happy to meet you.”

“Your store is lovely. I will admit to having adopted a much more casual approach to clothing since moving to the area, but your selection is stunning.”

She pulled out a pair of designer jeans. “We offer casual clothes as well as formal and business attire. I think these jeans, along with this sweater, would suit you quite well.”

The soft blue sweater she’d pulled out was exactly the sort of thing I’d wear for a casual date or workday. “I’m in a bit of a hurry today with appointments set up one right after the other, but I will most definitely come back when I have time to shop.”

She replaced the jeans and sweater to the rack. “So how can I help you today?”

“As I indicated when we spoke on the phone, I’m interviewing all Ms. Cupid’s clients and hoped you would answer some general questions about your experience.”

She nodded her perfectly coiffed head of platinum blond hair. “I’d be happy to tell you what I can. To be honest, I really didn’t expect to find my perfect match here in sleepy little Foxtail Lake, but then my best friend, Lori, found out about Ms. Cupid, and she told me about her phenomenal success rate and suggested I give it a try.”

“Would your friend, Lori, be Lori Darvis from the first match back in early August?”

“Yes, that’s her. She told me she saw an ad on her social media feed and was curious. She decided to give it a try since no money was requested. She filled out the application, and about two weeks later, she received an email telling her to meet the man she’d been matched with at the Grizzly Bear Diner. She showed up at the requested time, met Jason, and fell in love by the end of the date. Lori and Jason were married this past Christmas, and they really do seem very happy, so I decided to give it a try.”

“And when did you fill out the application?” I asked.

“In October. To be honest, given the limited population in this area, even with Lori’s endorsement, I was skeptical that Ms. Cupid would find a match for me, but the very first man she arranged for me to meet turned out to be exactly the sort of guy I was looking for.”

“Have you lived in Foxtail Lake long?” I had to admit that she seemed all wrong for the area, and I had to wonder why she’d chosen the isolated mountain community as her home.

“Only about three years. This boutique originally belonged to my sister, Farah. She was diagnosed with cancer three years ago and needed help with the store. I was working for an ad agency in Chicago at the time but not really loving my job, so when she shared that she feared she’d have to close the store, I volunteered to come to Foxtail Lake to help out. Running this store is not at all what I imagined for myself, but now that I’m here, I find it suits me more than I thought it would. My sister died eight months ago after a very long battle. She left me the store, which I did consider selling, but now that I’ve met Bill, I’ve decided to stay.”

“I’m so sorry to hear about your sister.”

“Thank you. It’s been a tough year, but Bill has brought an element of hope and renewal to my life. I really can’t imagine what I would do without him.”

I set my purse on the counter and pulled out a note pad. “So your sister passed away, and your friend, Lori, suggested that you approach Ms. Cupid about finding your perfect match.”

She nodded. “I was feeling lost and conflicted after my sister passed. I sort of felt like a castaway without a clear destination in sight. Then Lori suggested I start dating. I hadn’t dated at all since moving to Foxtail Lake to help my sister. At first, I wasn’t sure I wanted to bother, but Lori can be persuasive, and after a time, she wore me down. As I’ve already said, she goaded me into filling out the application and answering the interview questions. They were so absurd that I really held out very little hope that this matchmaking service was even legit, but I figured that I didn’t have a lot to lose.”

“And how long did it take to get a date?” I asked.

“About a month. I didn’t hear back from Ms. Cupid for several weeks, and when I did, it was to provide me with a time and place to meet my date. I know the specifics of the date are orchestrated to provide the greatest chance of a successful outcome. For Bill and me, Ms. Cupid arranged a dinner date at Lamour.”

I knew that Lamour was a high-end restaurant about thirty miles east of Foxtail Lake.

“I take it the date went well.”

She pursed her bright red lips. “Very well. Bill moved to Foxtail Lake about eight years ago after his uncle left him his dental practice, but he’s originally from New York. I lived in New York for a few years when I was in my twenties, so we had a lot to talk about. Bill and I seemed to bond over our common experience of moving to a small town from a large city to take over a small business from a family member. He divorced shortly before moving to Foxtail Lake, and I never married, but I think we were both looking to make a connection. We ended up talking late into the evening and have been together ever since. I’m not sure how Ms. Cupid did it, but I truly suspect she found the one man in the area who I seem to be perfectly matched with.”

It did sound as if Bill and Della were as well matched as any couple could be. I asked Della if Bill had signed up for Ms. Cupid’s service or if he had simply been approached after she’d signed up, and she told me that a friend of Bill’s had signed him up as a birthday gift, and he’d decided to take a chance and go with it.

After I completed my interview with Della, I continued down the street to keep my appointment with Bill. He shared with me an experience very similar to Della’s, and like Della, he seemed happy and appreciative of everything Ms. Cupid had done to enrich his life. After a brief interview with the man, I could sense that he and Della probably were a good match.

Once I finished my interview with Bill, I headed toward the house where Dale Conover lived. Since Dale worked out of a home office, Lissa felt it would be best for us to meet at his home, where a quick chat would provide the least disruption to his workday. I’d hoped to speak to them separately, but Lissa had insisted on a joint interview, so I agreed.

When I turned off the highway and onto the road leading into the neighborhood where Dale lived, I noticed black smoke billowing into the sky. I really hoped the smoke wasn’t billowing up from Dale’s home, but the sight of a woman wearing a Food Mart uniform standing in front of the house, which by this point was totally engulfed in flames, seemed to indicate that it was indeed Dale’s home that was on fire.

I parked and jumped out of the car. I made a beeline for the woman who was standing in a snowdrift sobbing uncontrollably. “Are you Lissa Nixon?”

She turned and looked at me. “I am. Who are you?”

“Callie Collins. We spoke on the phone. What happened?”

“I don’t know,” she sobbed. “I showed up for our meeting and found the house on fire. It was already too hot to get inside, so I called 911. The 911 operator told me that someone else had already seen the flames and called the fire in and that the fire crew would be here shortly. They pulled up before I even got off the phone.”

“Was anyone inside?”

“I don’t know. I’m waiting to hear. Dale was expecting me. I hope he’s okay, but if he wasn’t inside, then where is he?” Her eyes darted from side to side as she frantically looked around.

I had to admit that it seemed likely that Dale had been inside the house when it caught on fire. If he had been home when the fire started, why hadn’t he had time to get out?

I pulled Lissa into my arms and hugged her tight in spite of the fact I’d just met her. I could sense that she welcomed the comfort offered as she struggled with the story unfolding in front of our eyes. There were firemen everywhere, and at least two police cruisers had shown up as well. I recognized one of them as belonging to my best friend, Deputy Cass Wylander. I had to admit that the fact that the lone ambulance was still sitting empty didn’t bode well for Dale. If he’d been inside the house and the firemen had been able to get to him in time, it seemed to me that he would be sitting in the ambulance getting checked out.

“Maybe we should wait inside the car,” I suggested. “Not only is it freezing out here, but it might be best to be well out of the way.”

“I need to know what happened to Dale.”

I looked around the area. “I know one of the police officers who responded. My car is parked right across the street. Why don’t you wait there? You’ll be able to see if Dale shows up, and in the meantime, I’ll see if I can find Cass and get an update.”

She looked pale, and I was afraid she’d pass out, but eventually, she shook her head. “I’m going with you. If your friend has news, I want to know what that news is.”

“Okay, but let’s try to stay out of the way.” I looked toward a group of spectators gathered on the sidewalk. “Let’s start there. Chances are Cass will be interviewing witnesses who might know how the fire started.”

The next two hours were like something out of a nightmare. Lissa and I found Cass, who was able to confirm that an unidentified male victim had died in the fire. Lissa and I both suspected that the victim had to be Dale, but until the body was positively identified, Cass would continue to refer to the victim neutrally. Once the fire was out and the spectators began to disperse, I offered to drive Lissa to the coroner’s office, where I hoped she’d be provided with a positive identification. Once it was confirmed that the male victim was burnt so badly as to be unidentifiable without further research, Lissa allowed me to call her brother to pick her up.

I turned a distraught Lissa over to her brother and headed to the shelter, where I was scheduled to work with one of the dogs in the basic training class. I’d briefly spoken with Cass, who assured me that he’d meet me for our shift in the playroom if he was able to get away. When I arrived at the shelter, Naomi Potter, the woman who owned and ran the shelter, was already in the large room where the class was held.

“Cass called and told me what happened,” she said.

“It was really bad,” I responded. “The poor woman I went to meet with was understandingly devastated.”

“Do you know what happened? How the fire started?” she asked.

I shook my head. “I haven’t heard. The fire crew was still on site when I left. I imagine Cass will know more after he speaks to whoever is in charge of the investigation. He said he’d come by for his regular volunteer shift if he was done in time.”

Naomi began taking long training leashes from the wall. “I suppose that there isn’t a lot Cass can do until the fire marshal does his thing, and that won’t happen until what remains of the structure cools down. I heard that a body was found in the home. Assuming the victim was the homeowner, it seems odd to me that he wasn’t able to get out in time.”

“I had that same thought. Lissa told me that Dale had a home office, which is why we were meeting at his home in the first place. If he was working and the fire started in another part of the house, you would think he would have smelled the smoke, or at the very least, you would think the smoke detectors would have gone off. The house was a single-story structure. I really can’t think of a single reason the guy wouldn’t have realized what was going on and gotten out of there.”

Naomi looked toward the door at the back of the room, where two of the other volunteers had just walked in. “It looks like the rest of the trainers are beginning to arrive. Let’s be sure to chat again after you’ve finished for the day. Hopefully, Cass will be here, and we can get some answers.”

“Did you know Dale?” I asked.

“Not well, but I did know him in the sense that we’ve both lived in the same small community for a number of years.”

“Lissa mentioned that he worked from home, but I’m not sure she ever said what he did for a living.”

“He was a psychologist. He had an office in his home where he saw patients. As I mentioned, I didn’t know him well but based on what I do know, he seemed like a nice enough guy, and I think he was well respected in his profession.”

I thought about the long drive and wide lawn at the front of the structure. I had noticed a second doorway on the side of the house that opened into one of the rooms at the front of the structure. I only remembered that because it had been open when I arrived, and before I found out that a body had been found inside the structure, I’d found myself wondering if Dale had gotten out that way. Apparently, he hadn’t.

I knew it wasn’t a good idea to jump to conclusions before having all the facts, but if I had to guess at this point, I would say that Dale Conover had been murdered.