Lucy wasn’t at all encouraged when Detective Horowitz arrived, followed immediately by a white crime scene van and two technicians. They went straight into the family room, carrying an assortment of equipment cases and powerful lamps. Lucy had that odd feeling you get when your house isn’t quite your own. After what seemed an eternity Horowitz emerged with the note encased in a clear plastic bag. As ever, he seemed gray and tired with his thinning hair, rumpled suit, and pale eyes.

“I’d like you to take a look at this. Do you have any idea what it’s about?”

He set it on the table so Lucy and Bill could see.

It was a torn piece of yellow foolscap with blue lines. The words “You could be next” were written in large penciled block letters.

Lucy swallowed hard and looked at Bill, gauging his reaction. His eyes had hardened and every muscle was tense, but he was working hard not to show it. Rocks through the window, death threats, just a typical Friday evening in the Stone house. Lucy knew he was blaming her and there would be hell to pay later.

“I think it’s a reference to Mimi’s murder, and the homeless guy, too. It’s from the killer,” said Lucy. “Somebody slashed my tires this morning, too.”

“How do you get that?” demanded Horowitz, with a rare flash of anger. “The murderer was her husband and he’s in jail and the homeless guy is officially an accidental death.”

“He was Mimi’s brother,” said Lucy.

“Yeah, and he was a homeless bum. Homeless bums die all the time.”

“Yeah, but homeless bums don’t come to Tinker’s Cove and get themselves killed. There’s a reason why he died and I think it has something to do with Mimi, with their family. It’s like violence follows them. I went to talk to their parish priest today. He told me their father was a cop who was killed during a bank robbery. Their mother was so upset she killed herself. I don’t know how it all comes together but somebody’s out to get them and that somebody must be worried that I’m on to something.” Lucy’s mind was working overtime. “You know, we didn’t hear a car or anything like that. I think that whoever threw this rock came on foot.” She looked out the window, at the darkening night. Through the trees she could see the lighted windows of the houses on Prudence Path.

“Lucy!” exploded Bill. “This is crazy. You’ve got to stop. You’re putting the whole family in danger and I won’t have it. Enough with the investigative reporting! Why can’t you write about doll makers and local artists and fundraisers like you used to?”

Lucy bit her lip and felt her face warm with embarrassment.