Page 101 of Murder on the Page

“Auntie knew it!”

Did she? Was that why she’d asked Katrina about Dates and Places? Had she discovered Rick had a profile on the app? Had she planned to tell Noeline what she’d uncovered? Would Rick have killed her to keep the secret? That seemed farfetched. For all we knew, Rick and Noeline might have met through the app, but Noeline fibbed to her daughters, claiming they’d bumped into each other at a grocery store, so they wouldn’t worry.

I said, “Katrina, would it be possible to get your profile info so we can sneak into the app and scope out Tegan’s mother’s new boyfriend?”

“Sure. Give me your phone, Tegan.”

“Mine’s in the office,” Tegan said. “Use yours, Allie.”

I handed my phone to Katrina. She uploaded the Dates and Places app and then entered her user name and password.

“Here.” She gave it back to me. “You can explore by first name, if he’s using his real first name, as well as by zip code and age range. There are even filters for ethnicity. Some people are really lame about only dating someone who has the same skin tone, so that’s required for all profiles. Photos too, though lots of those have been photoshopped. Believe me, I know.”

“What about by profession?” I asked.

“If he’s honest about it, sure.”

I typed in as many keywords as I could think of:Rick, Rick O, Rick O’Sheedy, white male, banker, financier, investor, moneyman.I added our zip code and the descriptors:sixty to seventyandsilver hair.

“Are his eyes blue or green?” I asked Tegan.

“Blue, I think.”

Not being certain, I left eye color blank and hit Enter. There wasn’t oneRick O’Sheedy, but there were twentyRick Olistings, and well over one hundred profiles forRick. Some of the names merely matched one keyword. I started with anyRick Oin our zip code but didn’t find any that resembled Rick O’Sheedy. Most of the men were in their forties. None did any work related to money matters. I moved on to the selections ofRick,with no initials, who were living in or near our zip code.

“Ma’am, we’re ready to check out.” The teenaged boys approached the sales counter.

Tegan excused herself and handled the sale.

Katrina rose to her feet. “I should go. I have an appointment.”

An online appointment,I surmised by how anxious she was becoming.

“Thank you for listening,” she added. “Will you, you know . . . with the police?”

“I suggest you go to them directly and tell them everything.”

“I was hoping you’d smooth it over for me before I did. You and Detective Armstrong seem to get along so well.”

The singsong way she said it made me uncomfortable. Had I been giving off a way-too-interested vibe? Was that why Zach had cooled to me?

I rested a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll text him and tell him that I believe you, but you have to do this yourself.”

She lifted her chin. “You’re right. It’s time to bite the bullet.”

Orsuck it up,as my father would say.

When Katrina left and Tegan, who’d finalized the sale, moseyed to the aisle by the front window to advise an elderly woman who was waving for help, I texted Zach. I didn’t see the three ellipses hovering like he was planning to respond, so I closed Messages and resumed browsing the profiles.

Before I’d scrolled through three, the mother and her children arrived at the sales counter. The children were clearly restless. The oldest, who looked to be about seven, was doing her best to quiet her siblings, but to no avail.

“I’m sorry,” the mother said, wearily setting down ten children’s books andLost Luggage,a humorous mystery I’d thoroughly enjoyed.

“These are good selections for your children,” I said. On occasion, I rifled through picture books, dreaming of the days when my mother, acting like a mother should, had taken me to a library. “The artwork in the alphabet book is super, and this mystery”—I tapped the book’s cover—“is written by one of my favorite authors. The protagonist, Cyd Redondo, is a hoot. There are more in the series, if you enjoy it.”

“Thanks.” She paid with a credit card. After I bundled the books into one of the shop’s gift bags, the woman shepherded her squirming children to the front door.

“Found anything on Rick yet?” Tegan asked me when she returned.

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