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“Well?” she said to Liz as I stopped to stomp the snow off my boots on the mat.

“We rattled his cage,” Liz said, heading into the storeroom.

Rose trailed her. “But did you find out anything?”

“Daniel Swift is mixed up in this somehow,” Liz said.

“But do you know how?” Rose persisted.

Liz stopped, turned and looked at her friend. “Not yet.”

Rose looked at me.

“Liz is right. Daniel Swift has a connection to Lily’s murder. But I don’t know what it is, either.” I hated to think that Sloane might have done something to Lily. Could she have changed that much?

“There’s something else I need to tell you,” I said. “Daniel Swift is the investor behind the Wellington Group. I got my dad to do a little digging.”

Rose turned her attention to Mr. P., who was in his usual seat in the Angels’ “office.” “The answer has to be in the footage from the security camera at the bank on the end of the street. Alfred just got it this afternoon.”

“Do I want to know how?” I said.

Liz rolled her eyes.

“Probably not, dear,” Rose said, patting my arm.

I looked at Mr. P. “Keep going,” I said.

“Don’t worry. Alf can do this,” Rose said.

He sat up a little taller in his chair.

“I’m going to go find Mac,” I said. “Let me know if you find something.”

Mac and Avery were in the shop, both waiting on customers. Avery raised a hand when she caught sight of me and walked over to meet me. “She’s interested in the twelve-string,” she said, indicating the woman she’d been talking to who was holding a Gibson guitar very similar to Sam’s and trying a few chords. She was mid-fifties, wearing jeans tucked into leather boots and a dark red duffle coat. “She’s looking for a deal, but don’t be fooled by the clothes. She can afford to pay more than she’s offering.”

“Why do you say that?” I asked.

Avery glanced back at the woman and saw she wasn’t paying any attention to us. “She’s wearing a vintage watch that’s worth about three times the cost of that guitar. She also has a rose gold bracelet and earrings that aren’t exactly cheap.”

“Very observant,” I said. “Do you want to close the deal?”

She nodded.

“Go ahead, then,” I said.

I nodded to Mac, who was showing a customer my favorite slipper chair, and headed upstairs. Elvis was sitting in the middle of my desk. “Merow?” he said.

“I think Daniel Swift’s fingerprints are all over this,” I said, peeling off my jacket and dropping onto my office chair. The cat lifted a paw, studied it for a moment, then licked it.

I laughed at the symbolism. “And, yes, he does seem to think that he doesn’t have any dirt on his hands.” I sighed. Maybe we’d get lucky and Mr. P. would find something.

When I went back downstairs, both Avery and Mac had made their sales. “I’ll get the vacuum,” Avery said.

Mac came over to me. “How was your meeting with Daniel Swift?”

“You should have seen Liz,” I said, pulling a hand through my hair. “She was fierce.”

“Did you find out anything useful?”

“Aside from the fact that I wouldn’t want to play poker with Daniel Swift? No.” I sighed. “He’s mixed up in this, though,” I said. “Do I sound like Rose if I say I just know it? In here.” I put one hand on my chest.

“No,” Mac said. “I think in the end you have to go with your gut.” He gestured in the direction of the storeroom. “I forgot to tell you. I have someone interested in that hutch you’ve been working on.”

I’d ended up painting the big piece of furniture. The shelves were a pale gray called Foggy Morning and the rest was a deep marine blue. The salvaged ring pulls had worked perfectly on the louvered doors.

Mac named a figure that made me blink. “That’s twice what I expected to get,” I said. I grinned at him. “Didn’t you say something about me making a mistake buying that hutch from Cleveland?”

“No comment,” he said with a smile.

I locked the front door, and Mac and I straightened up while Avery vacuumed. When I went out into the workroom, I found Rose and Liz looking over Alfred’s shoulder. I walked over to them.

“Did you find anything?” I asked.

Rose shook her head. She gestured at Mr. P.’s laptop. “Just a woman.”

“Let me see,” I said.

Alfred hit several keys, and black-and-white footage began to play. It took me a moment to orient myself; then I saw I was looking down at an angle at a section of the street that included the front door of the bakery. How on earth had the old man gotten the bank security video? Once again I decided that ignorance was bliss.

After a moment I saw a woman at the door. Was it Sloane? She turned her head, and I saw that it was. My heart began to race

“Keep watching,” Mr. P. said softly.

I kept my focus on the screen, and then I saw Lily as well. From her body language, it was clear she was ordering Sloane out. Just the way she had said. I felt the knot of anxiety in my stomach loosen.

“Is there any sign of Daniel Swift?” I asked.

“Not so far,” Mr. P. said. “But I have a lot of this to fast-forward through.”

“Could I give you two a ride home?” I asked. Rose shook her head. “Thank you, dear,” she said, patting my arm absently. “Charlotte is going to pick me up. We have plans.”

“I’d better go hurry Avery along if I want to get home and dig into a big plate of kale and chickpeas,” Liz said. She reached over and patted my cheek. “Thanks for coming with me, toots.”

“I will be your sidekick anytime,” I said solemnly, leaning in to kiss her cheek. She headed for the shop.

“Love you, Liz,” I called after her.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, everybody does,” she said, not even turning around.

Avery left with her grandmother. Charlotte picked up Rose and Alfred, and Mac, as usual, decided to walk. I corralled Elvis and headed home.

The cat immediately headed for the kitchen. “I’m going to change first,” I said. My running clothes were folded on what I thought of as Elvis’s chair. I knew I should get dressed and go for a run, but I really didn’t want to. The conversation with Daniel Swift kept running like a loop in my head.

I was staring at the contents of my refrigerator, wondering if there was any new way to make an egg and tomato sandwich, when I heard a knock at the door. It was Nick.

He was holding something wrapped in one of Charlotte’s quilted bags.

“Care package from my mother,” he said. “Ham and potato scallop.” He handed over the bag. “She said it might need a minute or two in the microwave.”

“Thank you,” I said. “Your mother must be telepathic. I was just standing in front of the fridge, wishing there was something in it to eat . . . that I could cook and have it still be edible.”

Nick laughed. “Saved by a casserole dish of potatoes.”

“C’mon in,” I said. He followed me inside, and I set the bag of food on the counter.

Elvis jumped down from his perch on the top of the tower.

“Where did you get that?” Nick asked, walking over for a closer look. “That’s nice work.”

“Alfred Peterson made it for me,” I said.

Elvis meowed indignantly. “Excuse me, he made it for Elvis.”

Nick ran a hand over the smooth dark wood. “Alfred did this? Wow.”

“He appears to be a man of many talents.”

Nick smiled. “I don’t doubt that. At least this one’s legal. Which reminds me: Do you know anything about a brief glitch in the firewall at First National Bank yesterday?”

I shook my head. “No.” I didn’t know anything. That was my story and I was sticking to it.