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reminded her.
       "And me," Frannie said. She shook her head ruefully. "I've lived in this town almost twenty-one years, but I never ran across that young woman before. Then again, why would I? I never had kids, so I never met many. Except the children of Chamber members, of course, at the annual picnic, et cetera."
       "Had you met Zoë before?"
       Frannie thought about it. "I suppose I must have, but it's nothing I remember. The people I know best are affiliated with the Chamber, or work at the library or the grocery stores in Milford. Other than that—" She shrugged. Then her expression shifted, and a sly glint entered her eyes. "Course, they say Miz Carter was mixed up in the whole Trident Homes disaster."
       "Oh?"
       Frannie leaned forward, lowered her voice. "Embezzlement."
       "Zoë Carter?"
       Frannie nodded. "I don't have the whole story, and it seems to me it was all rather hushed up. I mean, if it wasn't—wouldn't I, of all people, know?"
       Yes, she would. "What happened to Zoë?"
       "She didn't go to prison. Seems to me she got off with a suspended sentence. And it wasn't long after the whole sordid incident that she got published."
       If Zoë didn't go to jail, there had to be mitigating circumstances. But this was at least ten years ago, and if the town gossip didn't know the details, who would? Russ had owned the Stoneham Weekly News only three or four years, but he did possess the bound volumes of years past. Had the former editor chronicled the story? She'd have to check.
       "I wonder if Zoë was well-known at the library," Tricia mused aloud. "Her historical mysteries had to be researched somewhere."
       "Lois Kerr is the head librarian. Have you met her?" Trisha shook her head. "She's a bit stern, but that's because she's old school. Still, she's the one who pushed for the village budget to include Wi-Fi access at the library. She's a real whirlwind of energy."
       "I believe I've spoken to her on the phone, but . . . I haven't even had time to get a library card. I mean . . . I really only read mysteries, and I order everything I want and then some from distributors, as well as buy from people willing to sell their collections."
       "It wouldn't hurt for you to talk to Lois in person. Maybe get yourself a library card. Libraries are the best value you can get for your tax dollars."
    "Yes, ma'am," Tricia murmured with respect.
    Frannie laughed. "Any other questions?"
    "Who would know Kimberly Peters?"
       Frannie frowned. "Her high school teachers, I suppose. I don't know much about her. Russ Smith might, though. I mean, if she ever got in trouble—and it wouldn't surprise me, with that attitude of hers—it would've ended up in the Stoneham Weekly News crime blotter." That column was often only a paragraph or two long—if it even ran.
       "You might also try Deborah Black," Frannie added. "She's only a few years older than Kimberly. Maybe she remembers her from school."
       "Great idea. Thanks."
       Frannie craned her neck to look beyond Tricia. "There they go again," she said, and shook her head.
       Tricia turned to see a line of Canada geese marching down the sidewalk, no doubt heading for Stoneham Creek. It was the only running water in the area, and it seemed to be the attraction that kept luring the geese from the relative calm of the outlying retention ponds.
       "Can't the Chamber pressure the Village Board to do something about them?" Tricia asked.
       "They could get the state and the federal government to approve roundup-and-slaughter operations," she said matterof-factly.
       "What?" Tricia asked, horrified.
       "Yup, that's what they call it. They wait until the geese are molting and can't fly, then they herd those poor birds into boxes and gas them with carbon dioxide."
       "But I thought they were protected—and that's why the population keeps growing."
       "Hey, it's happened. In Washington State,