“Of course.”

“I guess what I’m trying to say is, I do want you to investigate, Callie, to find Wendell’s killer. I want this over and done with—the killer caught, my poor husband’s memory laid to rest—as soon as possible.”

“I’ll do my best,” I said, thinking that, unbeknownst to her, I had already put in a full afternoon and evening of investigating.

“Though I’d rather not upset the family, as I’m sure you understand. We can keep this between us, can’t we?”

I nodded solemnly.

“No one besides you needs to know, for now at least.”

“Good.”

She came and sat across from me. I studied her for a moment, knowing full well that there was more on her mind than she had said.

“What is it you’re not telling me, Marion?” I finally asked. She colored, then looked down.

“Am I so transparent?”

“Obviously, there’s something else you need to say. Do you think you have an idea of who may have killed your husband?”

She shook her head.

“Oh, no, dear, nothing like that. It’s just that…well, that there were some things going on here, at the end. Wendell was concerned. For the business.”

“The business?”

“Feed the Need, specifically,” she said, lowering her voice. “I’m so very afraid. The money you came here to deliver, it wasn’t—”

Her voice stopped as she looked up. I turned to follow her glance and saw Derek standing in the doorway.

“Derek!” she said loudly. “You startled me.”

“Sorry, Mother,” he replied, stepping into the room. “I just wanted to come and apologize for ducking out of dinner like that. It was rude of me.”

I hesitated, finally standing.

“I’m the one who was rude,” I said. “Open mouth, insert foot. I shouldn’t have asked so many questions.”

“No, no,” he answered. “I’m afraid my wife and I are separated, and it’s gotten rather messy. She just, she doesn’t…” his voice trailed off as he brushed a hand back through his hair. “The whole thing is sort of bizarre. Then we had a big fight today, which has only made a bad situation worse.”

“I understand you have a son. I saw some pictures of him in the cabana.”

He looked at me and smiled a sweet smile that cut through the pain and exhaustion on his face.

“Carlos,” he said, beaming. “Great kid. He’s at a soccer tournament. They were supposed to get back tonight, but they had trouble with the bus. So now—”

“Trouble with the bus?” Marion asked. “Was it an accident? Is Carlos okay?”

Derek held out a hand to stop her from talking.

“Calm down, Mother,” he said. “It was a mechanical problem. Water in the gas line or something. Anyway, they’re spending the night at a Ramada Inn in Lancaster. They should be back in the morning in time for school.”

“Does Carlos know about his grandfather?” I asked.

Derek shook his head sadly.

“We decided to wait until he’s here, with us, to tell him.”