29The air was sweet and warm, the sky an intense blue as Molly revved up the scooter for the trip to the Barbeau farm. A long solo drive is a perfect time to do some clear thinking, thought Molly, zipping down rue des Chênes away from the village and whipping around a corner. But the case was so new, there wasn’t much to turn over in her mind. The mayor had been killed on the second floor of his house, in the guest room. Did the exact location matter? How often would you go into a guest room if no one was staying there? Had he been preparing the room for someone—Daniel Coulon, for example?
She made a mental note to ask someone at the mairie if Coulon had an appointment book they could look at, and to ask Ben if there was a way to access his phone records.
Having little else to consider,
