Organized for Murder by Ritter Ames Page A

Sophia took with the display case? And if she'd assumed those items belonged to her, could she have been the one pilfering valuables before Amelia's death—using the justification they were hers anyway?
    11) Has anyone entered our house through the back door since Tiffany unlocked it and ran outside last night?
    12) Do I dare call the police and ask them to look for fingerprints in my laundry room?
     
    She already knew the answer to the last question. There was no possible way of getting official help unless she gave the police everything, and she couldn't do that, so number eleven was a non-starter as well. Getting the police to help answer either question would not only get her further entangled as a possible suspect but likely implicate Meg.
    Kate closed the casebook. It was late. Maybe if she went to sleep her mind would work out all the puzzles and have everything solved by the time she woke in the morning.
    "Sure. And maybe I'll figure out a way to clone myself, too."

CHAPTER EIGHT
    Saturday, April 10th – To-do
    Girls' soccer game—home field (thank goodness)
    Plan what to say to Keith.
    Pick up Jane and George this evening.
    Work on Book Nook presentation.
    Don't worry—really.
     
    *
     
    Lists of tasks and worries woke Kate before the alarm went off Saturday morning. Dawn was just a promise in the sky when she plopped onto the rattan loveseat on her front porch, warm in her tightly wrapped robe and bunny slippers, and holding a cream-filled cup of coffee. The comforting weight of her casebook lay in her lap. The sun rose in golden ribbons over the Green Mountains, glittering light mixing with the peaks' blue-green swaths and eventually pulling the sky awake to a clear, crisp blue. White pine, sturdy hemlock, and balsam trees created a darkened, shadowy palette. This solitude was what she needed. Nothing beat a bright new morning to ignite a person's determination toward solving a problem, she decided. Or two, or twenty.
    Even a few minutes of solitude is priceless.
    It could be a game-changer, she knew, offering new solutions and possibilities to hold stress at bay. She had no revelations but felt better capable of tackling the day ahead.
    An hour later, she had the girls up, fed, and bullied into soccer uniforms, getting them out the door earlier than usual. She marveled at the smiling faces of her twins, and knew the extra time that morning made all the difference. Those few precious minutes, not having to rush like most Saturdays, added calm to her troubled soul and kept the girls from arguing their way past teeth-brushing to van loading. She was nearly out the door when the telephone rang. It was Keith, no doubt in her mind, but she had no intention of talking to him until his return. This was too big to discuss over the phone. She turned off her cell before he tried that communication avenue.
    At the curb in her housecoat, Meg slipped envelopes into the mailbox and raised the flag. She waved down the van. "Just wanted to tell you I put the package in the safe deposit box yesterday."
    The girls were already immersed in an argument over which sister was better at imitating Rock Star Barbie. Kate didn't worry about being overheard. "I can't tell you how much I appreciate your help. I'll figure out a way to get the, uh, package back to…um…where it belongs as soon as possible."
    "Don't be too quick. You may need to give the thing to the police if you find anything else. Any ideas about who put it in—" Meg glanced into the backseat, then held up a hand to shield her mouth from the twins and whispered "—in your house yet?"
    Kate checked the mirror. The argument had moved on to who kicked a ball the farthest. From experience, she knew this exchange could last for hours with neither girl noticing anything going on around her. She turned back to Meg and briefly related her ideas about the firecracker incident and pizza delivery.
    "I can't believe Louie would be involved. I've known the kid forever." Meg