“It all started a few months ago,” he began, “following an argument between Sidra and Derek. Apparently, Derek had bought Sidra a sable coat as a gift, but when she learned what it cost, she had had a fit. Despite the fact that they could well afford it, she accused him of having changed, of having becoming materialistic and wasteful. He was hurt by her accusations, not to mention her rejection of his gift, and they went to bed angry. The next morning when they got up, the coat had been slashed to ribbons.”

I realized that was the coat I had discovered earlier, in the box at the top of Sidra’s closet.

“That, however, was just the beginning,” continued Ian. “Derek blamed Sidra; Sidra blamed Derek. A few weeks later, Derek found his good leather briefcase, filled with important papers, submerged in a bathtub full of water. The next day, there was a bouquet of black roses waiting on the front step. The envelope was addressed to Sidra, and the card said, ‘Black is for death. I wish you were dead.’”

“Oh my goodness,” I whispered.

“Sidra was so frightened she wanted to move back to Honduras. But Derek refused to let her take Carlos with her. With Sidra’s history of mental problems, she knew he had her over a barrel and that she had no choice but to stay. She’s been suffering in silence ever since, but I know she’s got to be at the end of her rope. Out of the whole family, I think only Wendell truly believed that she wasn’t doing these things to herself.”

“And now he’s dead,” I said.

“Yes. Now he’s dead.”

We began walking again, across the parking lot toward the funeral home.

“Let me ask you a question,” I said. “What do you really know about Sidra’s mental state?”

“Sidra had…some problems, a few years back. She’s much, much better now. But for some people, I think it’s easier to blame her ‘condition’ than it is to consider that this might be something else entirely.”

“So, in your opinion, she’s not doing these horrid things herself?”

“In my opinion, no, she is not.”

“Do you fear for her safety?”

“I fear more for her marriage, not to mention her child’s sense of security. I think if someone were out to harm Sidra, they would’ve done so by now. This stuff is all so juvenile, so theatrical. I don’t see it so much as a threat to her physically as it is a threat to her emotionally.”

“But now Wendell’s been murdered!” I exclaimed. “Don’t you think it’s possible that someone has upped the ante and gone over the edge? That Sidra might be next?”

He was thoughtful for a moment, one finger pressing nervously against his chin.