Free Flipped Out by Jennie Bentley

excited about being back at work, and when he caught my eye, he winked. Wilson ambled a few steps behind, camera on his shoulder, and Ted brought up the rear, his arms full of lights and wires.
    Derek reached the porch first and the petunia planter with the key. Or as it turned out, the petunia planter without the key. He stuck his hand in, fumbled around, and pulled it out, empty.
    “No key?” I said.
    He shook his head. “Check the door, please.”
    I did, with my free hand. The knob turned, and I pushed the door open. “Tony?”
    There was no answer.
    “This is weird,” I said, my voice low.
    Derek nodded, his lips tight. “Stay here. Keep the others out. I’ll check the house.”
    Fine with me. I don’t like trouble, and if Tony was inside, and something bad had happened to him, I’d so much rather have Derek deal with it.
    He brushed past me and into the house. I turned to the others. “Derek’s going to walk through the house and make sure everything’s all right. Chances are Tony just decided to crash here for the night instead of driving back to Portland, and he’s asleep on the floor in the back bedroom, but just in case something’s wrong, let’s all just stay out here and wait for Derek to come back.”
    Glances were exchanged, but no one argued. I’m not sure any of them believed me. I didn’t believe it myself. There was no way Tony would have spent the night on the hard floor. Portland’s only forty-five minutes away, and even if he’d been stuck in Waterfield overnight, with a car that didn’t start, he could have called Melissa for a place to stay, or called another friend for a ride home, or in a pinch, found a room in a B&B or motel for the night. He would have spent the night in the front seat of the BMW before I could see him bunking on the hardwood floor of the cottage. When Derek came back out onto the porch, his face grim, my heart sank, but I wasn’t surprised to hear the words.
    “He’s dead.”

5

    Nina turned deathly pale, and for a second, I thought she was going to faint. Ted must have thought so too, because he reached for her. But the cables got in the way, and Adam got there first, putting a muscular arm around Nina’s waist. She leaned into him. Ted scowled.
    I looked at Derek, helplessly. “Are you sure?”
    It was a stupid question. Of course he was sure. He was a doctor; if anyone should be able to determine whether someone was dead or not, it was Derek.
    He nodded. “I’m sure.”
    “What happened? Heart attack?” Tony was around forty. It was early for heart trouble, but not unheard of.
    Derek shook his head. “He’s been stabbed. Multiple times. Call Wayne. I’m gonna go back inside. Check and see what’s missing.”
    “Why would something be missing?” I reached for my cell phone.
    “It looks bare. I think the tools are gone.” He didn’t wait for my answer, just disappeared back into the house. I dialed the Waterfield PD and relayed the news in a shaky voice.
    Wayne must have been at home, because it was only a few minutes before he pulled up to the curb in front of the house next door. Between Tony’s BMW, Derek’s Ford F-150, and the news van, we took up all the available space in front of this house.
    Waterfield’s chief of police and Kate’s husband is in his late forties, seven or eight years older than his new wife. He’s tall, six-four or so, and lanky, with curly salt-and-pepper hair and soft, brown eyes that can take on the rock-hard look of pebbles when he’s doing his job. He likes me, except when I meddle in his business, although he does tend to blame me for the crime wave that has swamped Waterfield since my arrival a year ago. Never mind the fact that none of the deaths, except for the first—Aunt Inga’s—had anything whatsoever to do with me. I certainly wasn’t responsible for any of them, and several of the victims died before I even set foot in Maine.
    Wayne knows he can’t possibly hold me responsible, but that