I parked in front of the police station. “Just the person I was looking for,” I lied. Molly looked like a deer in headlights. “Me?” “Yeah. You are supposed to help the committee members with the celebration, right?” “What do you need?” As she spoke she tightened her hold on the folder. “I need to get a permit to have the quilt show outdoors.” “Who do I get that from?” “The police chief.” I said it with a straight face, hoping she’d forgotten who I was with the day we met. She hadn’t. “Isn’t he your boyfriend?” “Yes, but . . .” I hadn’t thought this through. All I wanted was a peek at that file folder and now I sounded like an idiot. “We’re kind of fighting, so . . .” She nodded. “That’s too bad. But he does seem a little more, I don’t know, straightlaced than you. And the mayor said you were always getting in the middle of his cases.” I bit my lip. “What have you got there?” I pointed toward the file folder. “You’ve got quite a death grip on it.”
