Free Green Living Can Be Deadly (A Blossom Valley Mystery) by Staci McLaughlin

“Nonsense. I want you to give up this idea right now.”
    The teen rebel in me—the one that still lurked beneath the surface and reared its head anytime Mom tried to tell me what time to be home from a date—popped up once more. “I’ll think about it” was all I said. Not exactly a hard-nosed response, but it was enough to make Mom press her lips together and stop talking.
    She sat down at the table and carefully unfolded her napkin, smoothing it in her lap. I followed her lead, and we all sat in a strained silence until Ashlee mentioned a cute guy who had come into the vet office that day with his sick turtle. That reminded her of her favorite coffee guy at the Daily Grind, the one who always knew her order and got the temperature just right. He reminded her of the guy who was running a green-cleaning booth at the festival and gave Ashlee free samples. Mentioning the festival brought us right back to the murder.
    “The poor guy was so distracted by Wendy’s death that he didn’t even ask for my number,” Ashlee said.
    “Maybe he didn’t want it,” I said, but she swiped that idea away with a wave of her hand.
    “Seriously, Dana. We had something going. You don’t give someone fifteen samples of bamboo dust rags for no reason.”
    I speared a scallop. “He probably couldn’t find anyone else to give the samples to.”
    “Whatever. I’m going to stop by again tomorrow and see if he’s there. Give him another chance.”
    “That’s very generous of you.”
    Ashlee snarled at me.
    Mom cleared her throat, and Ashlee focused on her dinner.
    “I remember when you used to bring Wendy over after school,” Mom said. “Such a smart girl, and so outgoing.”
    “Yeah, she was friends with everyone,” I said. “Always a class leader or president of the clubs she joined.”
    Mom sipped her water. “I’d heard she’d started her own company. It’s really no surprise, since she always had such strong leadership skills.”
    Apparently, Mom had been keeping tabs on Wendy. I wondered what she knew about my other high-school friends. “When she won the class president election, I’m not sure the other guy got a single vote,” I said.
    Ashlee snorted.
    I lowered my spoon. “What?”
    “She didn’t win the election. She rigged it.”
    This time, I set my spoon all the way down in my stew. “How do you know?”
    “Because my friend Brittany helped her do it. Traded that for a spot on the cheerleading squad.”
    “Are you kidding me?” Guess those rumors about ballot tampering had been true.
    “Have you ever watched Brittany walk?” Ashlee asked. “I mean, I love her to death, but she’s a klutz. No way could she make the squad without Wendy’s help, so they made a little deal.”
    Mom laid a hand on the table and leaned toward Ashlee. “You didn’t help, did you?”
    “Of course not,” Ashlee said. “She told me about it later when we were sneaking some booze from her dad’s liquor cabinet.”
    Mom looked aghast, while I stifled a smile.
    “Not that I drank any,” Ashlee added quickly.
    Mom opened her mouth as if to say something, then sighed. “Somehow I don’t think any of that is connected to her death.”
    “Probably not,” I agreed. “But it lends credence to her brother’s remark that her company might not be on the up-and-up.”
    “When did you talk to her brother?” Mom asked.
    Oops. Busted. “I stopped by after work to offer my condolences.”
    Mom sighed again, as though her children made her impossibly tired. “I told you. I don’t want you involved in another murder, Dana. I don’t even want you talking about the case with Jason, like you always seem to do.”
    “Don’t worry. Jason’s parents are in town, so he’ll probably be too busy to see me.”
    “Ooh, his parents,” Ashlee said in a singsong voice.
    I pointed at her. “Don’t start. What are your plans this weekend?”
    “I’ve got a date tomorrow night, of course.”
    “And Lane’s supposed to take