Free The Chocolate Mouse Trap by JoAnna Carl Page A

window’s standard, thumb-operated latch. “It’s unlocked,” she said. “But—hells bells! I’m not careful about keeping things locked. Not in the winter!”
    I understood what she meant. It’s a folk belief around Warner Pier. We’re all convinced the summer people and tourists take all the crime home with them on Columbus Day. We seem to feel that Warner Pier is a Michigan version of Brigadoon; after the outsiders leave we lapse into a state of small town innocence until outsiders reappear the next June.
    Jack was back inside by then. “Somebody’s been stomping around in the snow under that window,” he said. “I couldn’t see any recognizable tracks, but maybe you’d better call the police.”
    Then he looked at his watch. “Your computer is up and running. I’ll have to get into the hard drive to try to find out if anything can be salvaged. And I’ll be glad to talk to the chief—or whoever he sends—about the break-in, but right now I’m going to run out to Hideaway Inn. Diane and Ronnie Denham have some kind of problem, too.”
    The Denhams had computer problems, too? That news gave me a severe case of jumping stomach—that queasy, upset feeling when my innards bounce around, up in the throat one minute and down in the toes the next.
    What if Jack was wrong? What if Carolyn hadn’t had a break-in? What if she had some sort of computer virus that destroyed all her files?
    She and I exchanged e-mail daily. If she had a virus, I could, too.
    Carolyn was calling 9-1-1, but I decided the Warner Pier police could investigate a possible burglary without me. I drove back to TenHuis Chocolade as quickly as possible. I almost skidded into the curb when I pulled up in front of the shop, and I did skid on the sidewalk as I ran toward the door. I opened my computer before I took my coat off, and as soon as it loaded I began opening files. I felt a surge of relief when I saw everything was there. Correspondence. Orders. Accounts receivable. E-mail. All the files I ordinarily use. Safe.
    “Whew.” My tummy settled into its normal place behind my navel. Then I got out a disk and backed up everything in all my business files right that minute.
    While the computer was humming and clicking over that job, the door to the shop opened, and Jason came in.
    He came directly into my office, and he didn’t mess around with small talk. “Listen, Lee, you’ve got a dial-up Internet connection with WarCo, don’t you?”
    “Yes. Why?”
    “Don’t connect, whatever you do. I got a virus that ate my whole system. I talked to WarCo, and they said it seemed to have come in by e-mail. Don’t connect until you check with them, okay?”
    I may have gasped. “Oh, no! The Denhams have computer problems, too, Jason, and so has Carolyn Rose.”
    “Do they have direct lines?”
    “I don’t know about the Denhams, but I don’t think Carolyn does. She said that when she opened her computer this morning everything was gone. But Jack Ingersoll doesn’t think it was a virus. He thinks somebody actually broke into her shop and erased everything in her computer.”
    “Weird!”
    “It certainly is. I just backed up all my business files, but I haven’t connected to WarCo yet. Thanks for the tip-off.”
    I agreed to call Margaret, and Jason said he’d talk to Lindy and Mike Herrera. Then Jason left.
    Margaret answered on the first ring, and I was greatly relieved to hear that she hadn’t had any computer troubles.
    Margaret said her husband, Jim, was taking computer classes at the vo-tech school. “He knows what a dunce I am,” she said, “so he set me up with a program that lets me keep my e-mail online. I never download anything. If I need a record, I just print it out. So if I have a virus, it’s the server’s problem, not mine. I don’t use this computer for anything but e-mail and a record of orders and payments. And to print up bills. It does help at tax time. But mostly the kids use it to play games.”
    I