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if you can find someone.’’
    Dobson nodded. ‘‘Also no one remembers him shopping at Sweet Things, but they sold dozens of boxes of chocolates exactly like the one Mr. Sanders had Ms. Kane purchase.’’
    Jack nodded, suspecting as much.
    ‘‘I stopped by the bank like you asked.’’ Dobson dropped several large manila envelopes on the table. ‘‘These are bank accounts for both Sanders and Peggy Kane, including canceled checks.’’
    Dobson had the look of a man who’d just won the lottery. Or discovered oil in his backyard. ‘‘I saved the best for last. Peggy Kane only recently took out an insurance policy on herself. Five hundred thousand dollars. Guess who the beneficiary is?’’
    ‘‘Oliver Sanders,’’ Tempest said, appearing in the doorway behind Dobson.
    ‘‘Oh yeah!’’ Dobson said and smiled.
    Jack motioned her in. ‘‘Thanks, Dobson. Good work. Let me know if you find anyone who can verify Oliver Sanders’s whereabouts during the time in question. Any prints on that key that was in the elevator?’’
    Dobson shook his head. ‘‘Too smudged to get a clear latent.’’
    Jack nodded, afraid that would be the case.
    After the deputy left, Tempest gave him the items they’d taken from Oliver’s safe. ‘‘Find anything interesting?’’ Jack asked.
    She shook her head. ‘‘He was into all kinds of developments, a real wheeler-dealer, but nothing unusual or suspicious that I could find.’’
    ‘‘Well, let’s see if there’s anything in the bank statements,’’ he said as she took a chair across from him.
    It didn’t take but a few minutes to see a pattern—just not the one Jack had been expecting.
    Mitzi had been making large withdrawals from her account for the last six months. A few days later that money had been showing up in Peggy Kane’s account.
    ‘‘Peggy was blackmailing Mitzy?’’ Jack asked, confused as all hell.
    ‘‘Think it was the photos you found in the safe?’’ Tempest said.
    ‘‘If so, what was Oliver doing with them then?’’
    She shrugged, eyes bright with interest. ‘‘I guess there is only one way to find out.’’
    * * *
    MITZY WAS SHOWING a three-million dollar log house near the ski hill, the receptionist at her office told them.
    ‘‘At least she and Oliver weren’t so distraught over Peggy’s death they couldn’t work,’’ Tempest commented as they drove up the mountain and parked in front of the massive house.
    As they got out and went in, an older couple was climbing into a Suburban with out-of-state plates.
    Mitzy seemed startled to see them on her turf. ‘‘You aren’t interested in a house, are you, Jack?’’ She looked at him expectantly. More than likely she just wondered if he could afford this place. More to the point, if Frannie had left him enough, since Frannie had come from money, not him.
    He didn’t bite. ‘‘Why was Peggy blackmailing you?’’
    ‘‘Peggy?’’ Mitzy blinked and grabbed the back of one of the chairs at the breakfast bar for support. ‘‘Peggy Kane?’’ She paled, then flushed. ‘‘Why, that bitch.’’
    Either she hadn’t known who was blackmailing her. Or she was a damned good actress.
    ‘‘What did she have on you?’’ Jack asked.
    Mitzy glanced at him, then at Tempest.
    ‘‘Tempest is the new undersheriff,’’ Jack qualified. ‘‘If you’d rather, the three of us could discuss this at my office.’’
    Mitzy regarded him for a moment, then walked out to the redwood deck that ran the length of the house, dug around in her coat pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. She lit one and took a long drag, letting the smoke out slowly as she stared down at the clutters of buildings that made up the town below. Jack and Tempest shot each other a look, then followed her outside.
    It was cold, the sky dark with the promise of more snow, but the deck had been shoveled off. Jack figured that was Mitzy’s doing. The place had better curb appeal without making