I stared at my phone, willing it to ring. A lost dog, a missing tooth, misplaced car keys—anything. On this nice July morning in Parkland, North Carolina, the office of Madeline Maclin Investigations might as well have been an Egyptian tomb: hot, dusty, and dead. I flipped through the desk calendar, finding it hard to believe it had been only a week since I’d solved the Lundell case. Nancy Lundell had been so pleased she’d promised to call all her friends and tell them about my services. Apparently, she had none. My lack of clients wouldn’t have been so bad except I could hear all kinds of activity from Reid Kent’s office next door and knew he was doing a brisk business without me. Around noon, he had the nerve to poke his head in my door and ask me about lunch. “No, thanks.” Why give him more opportunity to gloat? “It’s Tuesday. I’m meeting Jerry.” Reid’s grin widened and he made what I’m sure he thought were spooky noises. “Will he see success in your future?”
