Elsa Gordon was new in town. Her next-door neighbor had generously invited her friends to dinner to meet Elsa. It was a kindness she knew she didn't deserve.

Small towns like Spruce Grove were hotbeds of gossip and wonderful fodder for a new series that Elsa intended to write. She needed the proper introduction to the people who would unwittingly become her characters, and this was the perfect opportunity.

She dressed, choosing a decent pair of slacks with a light sweater and a scuffed pair of flats. Gone from her wardrobe were the stylish designer outfits she wore during interviews and other celebrity appearances. She'd dyed her hair a mousy brown and affected a slower manner of speech to suit her new surrounds.

The trick to getting the best stories was to never allow people to suspect they were being used. She would never admit to her pen name and assumed an identity that bore no resemblance to the lurid writer toasted in the gossip columns.

She rubbed her hands together with anticipation. Just a few more minutes and she could begin. She could always pick out the one person in the room that would become her main character. She giggled. That person would have no idea how their life would be dissected, enhanced, and splashed across the pages of her next book.

***

"Elsa," her hostess said, "Welcome! Come in and meet everyone."

Elsa handed her a bottle of wine. Nothing extravagant, something available at the local grocery store. "You're so kind to do this for me, Anna."

Anna waved it away. "We're all so excited to meet somebody new." She laughed. "It's not everyday we get a new neighbor. Let me introduce you."

Elsa met three couples and two other individuals, none of whom tickled her imagination. She was wondering if she'd made a terrible mistake when the doorbell rang. She heard his deep voice before she saw him. G. M. Rathburn, mystery writer, she'd know his voice anywhere. "Oh, God." Her eyes searched for an exit. She moved toward the kitchen; there must be a backdoor there. She had to get out. Quick.

"Elsa," Anna said, her voice loud enough that everyone turned toward her, including G. M. Rathburn.

A little curl at the corner of his mouth assured her he knew exactly who she was.

"Jerry, let me introduce you to Elsa," Anna said with a huge smile. "She's even newer in town than you."

Jerry, huh? She smiled and held out her hand. Was he going to blow her cover? "So nice to meet you, Jerry."

"And you, Elsa." He held on to her hand as he drew out her name. "What brings you to Spruce Grove?"

She let out the breath she'd been holding. Maybe he wouldn't give her away. Her heart rate receded minimally. "I, uh, I'm thinking of opening a little shop."

"Ah, a shop," he said with an eyebrow raised. Several in the crowd gathered near, interested in their conversation.

"What kind of shop?" Anna asked in a delighted tone. "Something besides a grocery or feed store, I hope."

Several of the guests made their wishes known, suggesting everything from a beauty supply to a yarn store. G. M.'s smile became totally evil, and Elsa vowed revenge.

"Well, I thought I'd better do my research before I decide," she said. "And you, Jerry, what brings you to town?"

The smile dropped from his fatuous face. "I was thinking along the same lines."

"Well, since you're both new in town, I have you seated right next to each other. Come on, everyone, let's eat." Anna ushered everyone into the dining room.

The conversation was lively. These people had been friends for a long time. They peppered both G. M, or Jerry, and Elsa with questions which neither answered with an iota of truth. "We need to talk," she said in a low whisper when conversation centered elsewhere. The smirk on his face was incredibly irritating.

"Perhaps you'd like to go sightseeing tomorrow? I've discovered some fascinating points of interest in the valley."

Heads turned in their direction, awaiting her answer. She plastered a smile on her face. "Won't that be lovely?" She struggled to keep blatant sarcasm from her voice and kicked him under the table.


***


The next morning, G. M. arrived at Elsa's home carrying a bouquet of field flowers. "Peace offering. Fresh from my backyard."

Elsa nodded, acknowledging his gift. "It was shocking to see you here. What are you really doing?"

"Same as you, I suppose. Let's take a drive. I have a proposal for you."

They spent the day plotting and agreed to team up on a salacious murder mystery. "I could never pull off a mystery on my own," Elsa said.

"And I was never much good at digging out a complex character. Shall we tell people?"

"Absolutely not," Elsa said. "Where would the fun be in that?"

"You know, I've missed you this past year. Do you think we might give it another go?" He took her hand and raised it to his mouth.

"I wouldn't want to shock the neighbors. Should we wait a couple of weeks before you move in?"