Free The Chocolate Puppy Puzzle by JoAnna Carl Page B

problem is that Aubrey Andrews Armstrong is a crook, and we need to warn everybody in general, and Maia Michaelson in particular, about him. But we can’t tell Maia exactly how we know he’s a crook.”
    Maggie nodded.
    “Well, through the magic of the Internet, I may have already solved this problem.” I quickly outlined my efforts to check up on Aubrey the night before. “Anyway, he simply doesn’t exist on the Internet. And I feel sure that the Michigan Film Office will either know about Aubrey or will know how to check him out. As soon as I can get in touch with the director there.”
    “After all the state budget cutbacks, I’m sure that’s a one-person office, Lee. She’s probably scouting locations. Or she could be in New York or California. It may be days before you can reach her.”
    “True. But in the meantime, I can hint to Maia that all is not right. And I can do it without mentioning you at all.”
    “Maia will never believe you. This is her dream come true.”
    I thought another moment. “Vernon! That’s the answer. I can talk to Vernon. And nobody could ever suspect that Vernon will shoot his mouth off.”
    I guess Maggie and I might have hashed the matter over further, but the bell rang. Immediately students began to throng the halls and a group of them thronged into Maggie’s classroom. Maggie tossed her tissue in the trash and took a deep breath. I made tracks.
    As I paused outside the door, waiting for the crowd to clear, I heard Maggie inside. “Okay, people. Open your speech textbooks to page thirty-two. We’ll start with the structure of the larynx.” Her voice was clear, resonate, and confident. All traces of the fearful, tearful Maggie had disappeared. I thought of Ken describing her as “such a good actress.” He was right.
    I left the school and drove toward the shop. I had my assignment. Calling Vernon on the day after his wife’s uncle had been murdered might be tricky. If Silas had never married, as Aunt Nettie had said, Mae—I mean, Maia—might be the closest relative. Vernon might be closeted with the police or simply be incommunicado. But I vowed that I’d track him down.
    As soon as I got to the office, I called the number listed in the Warner County phone book for Vernon Ensminger. A woman answered, using a hushed voice. When I asked for Vernon, she said he was at the funeral home. When I asked for Maia, the voice said she was resting.
    I almost cheered. If Vernon was at the funeral home, and Maia was resting, I might have a chance to catch Vernon away from Maia. Since he followed her around like a puppy dog, this might be a onetime opportunity. I called the Warner Pier Funeral Home and asked if Vernon were still there. He was. I decided driving would be too slow. I ran the three blocks to the funeral home. Then I had to wait, since the receptionist said Vernon was conferring with the funeral director. I sat in one of the visitation rooms. Luckily, no one was in there to be visited. This gave me a few minutes to plan the angle I wanted to use to approach Vernon.
    When I heard Vernon’s voice rumble in the hallway, I emerged and waited discreetly until he and the funeral director had shaken hands and Vernon seemed to be moving in the direction of the front door. Then I spoke. “Vernon.”
    Vernon turned toward me. It seemed to take a moment for him to absorb just who I was. Then he gave a little gasp and came toward me.
    I held a hand out in his direction. “I’m so sorry about Mae’s uncle.”
    Vernon’s giant hand enfolded both of mine. “Lee.” His voice almost broke. “I’m so sorry you had to be the one who found Silas. I wouldn’t have had that happen for the world.”
    “I didn’t really see him, Vernon. I just saw enough to know I ought to call the police. Can I talk to you a moment?”
    The funeral director unobtrusively waved us into the room he and Vernon had just left. It was more like a parlor than an office, but there was a writing table.