Free By The Howling by Olivia Stowe Page A

night—the evening before she was found to have gone missing? Did she mention anything about seeing an unfamiliar woman in a car on River Street that day?”
    “No, we didn’t talk to her,” Todd said. Joyce shook her head in agreement. Todd went on, “But what would that have to do with anything?”
    “I saw such a woman that day.”
    “And you think that maybe she was there watching for Susan—that something Susan had done had brought the woman to town and caused Susan to flee?” Todd asked.
    “It’s possible. We have so little to go on that every possibility has to be examined.”
    “And do you know who this woman is? Do you think that she could lead us to Susan.”
    “No, I don’t know who she is. But, yes, there might be a link.” But then Charlotte shut up. There indeed was a possibility that there might be a link, but to say anything further about it to the Vales would surely dash any hope that Charlotte had given to them. There was a good chance that, given time to think, the Vales would make the connection themselves. But Charlotte didn’t want to tell them that there might be a connection between Susan and the woman found dead on the wooded lot across River Street from their B&B.
    Exiting the B&B and turning to walk back to her house, Charlotte’s eyes first went to the police car parked in front of the arts center and then to the figures of Jane Cranford and Deputy David Burch that were standing on the walk beside the cruiser. As she approached, David hailed her, but it was Jane who informed her in a tense, breathy voice, “They’ve been taken, Charlotte. Sometime last night, someone entered the arts center by one of the back doors and took several of the paintings on loan from the Barnes.”
    “Last night?” Charlotte asked. “Forced entry?” She addressed this last to David, who opened his mouth to respond, but Jane was still gushing forth in her excitement.
    “No. The door looks like it may have been jimmied, Deputy Burch said, but the markings don’t match. He thinks it was someone who had a key but who wanted to make it appear like a burglary. And the funniest thing—whoever it was knew where to find the casings for the paintings and knew exactly which ones went with the paintings they took. Do you know what that—?”
    “Well, for one thing,” Charlotte interjected, as both Jane and David gave her their rapt attention, “I think it means that Susan Purcell is still alive.”

Chapter Eight
     
    “Yes, that’s mine,” Grady said when the stamp album from the Goldsborough Street antique store in Easton was shown to him. Gathered around him, in addition to the distressed store owner, who was twittering and flittering around like a wounded bird caught in a trap—which, in fact, he probably was—were Deputy Burch, Charlotte, and Brenda, the latter of whom had begged to tag along so that she and Charlotte could lunch and boutique crawl in Easton again.
    Leaving Grady and Brenda to smooth over the situation with the store proprietor, Charlotte and David Burch moved on to King’s Antiques, which Charlotte had seen now displayed an “open” sign in the window.
    “After this, I need to talk to you—alone,” David said. “That’s why I asked Ms. Boynton to stay with Grady.”
    They entered the store to be met halfway in by a rotund, red-faced little man, all smiles and welcome—at least until he saw the badge David flashed at him. Then it was like seeing water going down a drain as his face closed down into a wash of wariness. Both David and Charlotte had seen this happen hundreds of times before, and there was no doubt in the minds of either that they were face to face with a fence in stolen goods.
    “Yes, yes, I sold that stamp album to Mitch,” Stan King acknowledged. “It’s more in line with his stock then mine. Of course I had no idea it was stolen.”
    “Yes, I’d be happy to help identify who I bought it from. She’s a recognized local art broker. Yes, yes,