Five
Faux Pas
The email Dr. Stillson was referring to?
Written by Alice Corwin. Before she accosted me at the diner. Seems she’s already got the gavel in her hand, and we haven’t even assigned her a chair yet.
Fine. If a seventy-something multimillionaire wants to arrange quilting clubs and yoga circles and best practices for growing gargantuan gourds, one less thing for me to worry about. And since my secure phone has three missed calls on it by the time I’m safely ensconced in my office, I definitely have other things to worry about.
“Wes, hey, sorry, I was in a meeting. What’s up?”
“Just wanted to let you know the RCMP will be on the west side of the island this week, combing again.”
“Again? For what?” I shiver when I think of the two arm bones Humboldt delivered to Finan and me
