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homicide, are handled by the state police. And for almost anything more complicated than a traffic violation, Moosetookalook usually asks for assistance from the county sheriff’s department.”
    â€œThat was a somewhat evasive answer.” Ms. Nedlinger’s pale blue eyes gleamed with amusement.
    Abruptly, Sherri stood. “I’m afraid that’s the only answer I have to give you, ma’am. May I suggest that you contact the Maine State Police? They have an officer specifically assigned to public relations.”
    â€œI’ll do that.” She tucked the printout into her purse and gave Sherri a tight-lipped smile as she also rose from her chair. “Nice talking to you, Officer Campbell.”
    After she’d gone, Sherri snatched up the business card she’d left behind. What an unpleasant woman! She was tempted to tear the pasteboard rectangle into tiny pieces and toss it in the trash. Instead, she turned back to her keyboard and typed in the URL for The Nedlinger Report.
    A blog came up on the monitor.
    Sherri skimmed a piece criticizing how a police investigation into cyber-harassment was being conducted, then read an item lambasting the parents of a recent victim for not supervising their daughter’s presence on the Internet.
    â€œWell you just hate everybody, don’t you,” Sherri muttered to herself as she scrolled down the page.
    She stopped when she came to something a little different. Instead of an op-ed piece on some aspect of real-life crime, this blog entry was a review of a recently published mystery novel. J. Nedlinger had nothing positive to say about the book. In fact, she was downright nasty in her comments and, worse, gave away the ending.
    Sherri was about to click away from The Nedlinger Report when the movement of a line of type at the bottom of the screen caught her eye. Next to the words “today’s readership,” going up even as she watched, was a number. Sherri stared at it, then glanced at the clock on the wall. It was barely noon and, if this was legitimate, the most recent blog entry on The Nedlinger Report had already attracted over forty thousand hits.
    The possibility that the rude woman who’d invaded her office had that many fans made Sherri even more wary of her interest in crime in Moosetookalook. Whatever she was investigating now, it could not be good for the village.
    Sherri wondered if she should alert the town selectmen to a potential public relations problem. Better to wait, she decided. She’d just as soon avoid unnecessary contact with the three elected officials who had charge of the police department’s budget. One was her newly acquired mother-in-law, another the local mortician, and the third a slippery character who sold real estate. None of them numbered among her favorite people. It didn’t take much effort to talk herself out of taking action. What could any one of the town officials do about J. Nedlinger’s interest in local crime anyhow? Besides, if the blogger were left to her own devices, she might well decide their sleepy little burg wasn’t worth the time to trash.
    Sherri set the phone to forward any calls to her cell, locked the office, and headed for Main Street, pausing only long enough to exchange friendly waves with the town clerk. In addition to the police department and the town office, the municipal building also housed the public library, which took up the entire second floor, and the fire department.
    Just as Sherri stepped out onto the sidewalk, on her way to meet her new husband, Pete, at Patsy’s Coffee House for lunch, she spotted Liss MacCrimmon driving past in Dan Ruskin’s truck. Liss braked and rolled the window down. She was blocking the narrow street, but it hardly mattered. There was no other traffic.
    â€œI’m heading out to the hotel,” Liss said when they’d exchanged greetings. “I’ve got a load of Angie’s books in the