Silent Sabotage. Susan Sleeman

not a local?” Archer asked.

      She shook her head.

      “Back to these incidents at your B and B,” Carothers went on. “Can you think of anything else that happened that can now be attributed to Withrow? Especially something violent with Oregon Free.”

      She didn’t have to think about her answer for very long. “Oregon Free, no, but there were some other incidents at the B and B. They weren’t life threatening but...”

      Archer came to his feet. “Incidents like what?”

      “I don’t know where to start.”

      “Anywhere.” He smiled, revealing perfectly straight white teeth, and his already high cheekbones lifted. He was boyishly handsome and her heart flip-flopped, plus she felt a twinge of a smile starting.

      Seriously? She’d just gone through a huge trauma and she was tempted to flirt with the guy. Unbelievable.

      She directed her answer at Carothers. “The first thing that happened was our website reservation system failed. We didn’t realize it at first. We just thought business was slow for a few weeks and then a customer finally called and told us the reservation form didn’t work.”

      “Could just have been a malfunction,” Carothers pointed out.

      “That’s what we thought, too. But the guy we hired to fix it said it had been hacked. I can’t provide the specifics as everything he said was tech speak and I really didn’t understand it, but I can give you his contact information and you can get the details from him.”

      “Did you report the crime?”

      She shook her head. “Our repair guy said he doubted it would do any good as the police probably wouldn’t be able to track him. We put better security in place to prevent it from occurring again and were just grateful we could take reservations once more.”

      “What else happened?” Archer asked.

      “Our inventory system was hacked, too. The numbers were changed, making it look like we had supplies, but then when we’d go to retrieve them for use, the items were out of stock and we had to buy more expensive goods locally. For the longest time I thought it was because of Birdie’s failing memory until it all came to light.”

      Archer shifted on his feet, widening his stance. “And is that all that happened?”

      “No. Someone set up a roadblock on a busy weekend and turned guests away.”

      “Did you report this incident?” Carothers asked.

      She nodded. “We called your office but the deputy was unable to determine who was behind it. In addition to that, we’ve had deliveries that were mysteriously canceled or didn’t show up, and we had an infestation of bedbugs. All of this occurred in the last two months and has taken a serious toll on our business.”

      “Anything special about the last two months that would make these things start happening?” Carothers probed.

      “No clue. And honestly, as I tell you this, I don’t believe Delmar would be behind them. He clearly wanted to kill me and none of those things are life threatening.”

      Following a long pause, Carothers shrugged his shoulders and said, “Maybe he wants to strike back at your aunt, too, by putting her out of business.”

      “Maybe.” She pondered what would have happened to Birdie if Delmar had succeeded in his attempts to kill her and ran the business into the ground. Birdie could sell the property and make out okay, but who would care for her? She would have to be institutionalized.

      The thought shattered Emily’s heart.

      “I really need to get back to the fund-raiser,” she said, more determined than ever to make it a success.

      “Fine.” Carothers handed her a business card. “In case you think of anything that might be helpful.”

      “I’ll walk you to your car,” Archer offered in a way that Carothers couldn’t refuse.

      Emily put the conversation behind her and went to greet her guests and to assist Birdie’s church friends who’d volunteered to work the carnival. At 9:00 p.m., when the crowd had finally thinned, she sat down by the food booth to count the proceeds. She held the metal cash box in her lap and felt her eyes drooping as she waited for Ralph Inman to join her. As the former business manager for the B and B, he’d volunteered to help reconcile the income and receipts for the night.

      She saw him working his way through lingering visitors toward her, his hands shoved in baggy pants pockets, his worn leather satchel slung over his shoulder as usual. He wore his typical plaid shirt with a chest pocket. He was short and balding and reminded her of Mr. Magoo. Birdie was a jovial lady by nature and loved to watch old cartoons so Emily could name all of the cartoon characters from years past.

      As he approached, he looked at her with the same sharp eye he’d used to keep the B and B’s finances in line for the past twenty years, until they’d fallen on hard times. He’d been at Birdie’s for so long he was almost part of the family. Thankfully, he’d decided to retire and enjoy life when the business started tanking and they could no longer pay him.

      He sat beside her and yawned. “I forgot how much work it takes to run one of these events.”

      She set the cash box on the table. “Then let’s get going on this so we can get you home.”

      He nodded, flipped pages in his book and they started reviewing the receipts she’d stored in the cash box. She explained each receipt, and he noted them in the expense column in his ledger. He’d never changed over to computerized bookkeeping, which meant Emily would have to add these details in the computerized system she’d created when she started managing the business.

      He asked so many detailed questions that the receipts took over thirty minutes to log and then move on to counting the cash.

      Ralph rearranged bills so they all faced the same way. “Want me to drop this in the night deposit on my way home?”

      “Sure, that’d be great,” she replied, but her attention was diverted as she noticed the crowd moving rapidly toward the house. They seemed agitated and upset, which was odd.

      “What’s going on?” she muttered.

      “Fire in the back of the house,” a man in their midst called out.

      Emily jerked her head around to see flames shooting from a third-floor window. Her bedroom window! Dark smoke billowed from the nearby bedroom.

      Birdie.

      Emily was vaguely aware of a scream. A wild, air-rending noise.

      Had it come from her?

      Maybe. She didn’t care.

      She shoved the cash box at Ralph and ran.

      All she cared about was getting inside the house to save Birdie.