Grimes’s memorial. I glanced at the map on my dresser. It certainly looked old enough to be authentic, but who had treasure maps nowadays? Mom had squealed like a little girl at Christmas, saying we’d found the motive for murder. Had we? Possibly. If the map was real, or someone at least thought it was, treasure was a big motivation. The first mystery I’d gotten involved in had been because of money…the second a misguided attempt at revenge. I grabbed a few M&Ms from the bag next to the ancient page and shuffled to the bathroom, tossing one of the candies to Cleo who lay with her beautiful head on her paws. She caught the blue disc in midair. I turned on the shower and sat on the closed toilet lid. My mind wouldn’t turn from the fact Mrs. Grimes had flapped her lips about a treasure and someone had killed her for it. Hopefully, a suspect would present themselves at the memorial. At that moment, I had too many suspects to list: the book club, the PTSO, the high school staff, the students.
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