"Whata' ya' got, Bev?" Jack unfolded himself from the car and took a pair of latex gloves from her outstretched hand.
"OK, Sheriff." Her voice was clear and firm as she glanced back at the woman and then looked at Jack. She flipped through a small notebook then jerked a thumb toward the Lincoln. When she spoke again her voice was lower. "The Lincoln belongs to a local. A Paige Bennett. She lives out by the old pump station."
"Yeah, I heard about her. She bought the old strawberry farm last year."
"Um . . . yeah. Anyway, she's also a book writer and according to her agent she missed a meeting this morning." Beverly jerked her head toward the Cadillac. "That's the agent over there. She says she got worried when Bennett didn't answer the phone so she drove out from the city. She says that when she got to Bennett's house it was locked up so she started back to town, thinking maybe Bennett broke down or had a flat tire."
She paused and then leaned in and added in a whisper. "Apparently we're all so far out in the boonies out here we've never heard of cell phones or Triple-A." She studied her wristwatch for a moment and looked at Jack. "She called in a missing persons about an hour ago."