The women stood about awkwardly, occasionally casting glances towards the Stanton house at the end of the cul-de-sac. Mimi’s murder was on everybody’s mind but nobody wanted to be the first to bring it up.

“It’s been a long summer,” said Willie, speaking to nobody in particular.

“You can say that again,” agreed Frankie, determined to be friendly.

Willie pointedly ignored her, practically turning her back on her in a way that excluded her from the circle. “Summer vacation is too long. The kids get bored after the first few weeks.”

“I can’t believe my girls are in kindergarten,” said Bonnie, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. “They’re still babies.”

“School is the best thing that ever happened to mothers,” said Frankie. “Trust me.”

“She’s right,” added Lucy. “Lydia Volpe, the kindergarten teacher, is an old friend of mine. Your girls will love her.”

“I’m going to miss them,” wailed Bonnie.

“You’ll be surprised how fast the time goes. They’ll be home before you know it,” said Lucy.

“Anyone for coffee?” asked Frankie. “I just made a fresh pot. I thought Bonnie might need a little coffee and sympathy.”

Willie recoiled, as if Frankie had suggested something improper, but Bonnie accepted the invitation eagerly. Lucy reluctantly declined. She’d love to hear what the women thought of Mimi’s murder but she didn’t have time. It was deadline day and she had to finish that darned obituary.

“That was a nice tribute you wrote about Mimi,” said Officer Barney Culpepper, easing his big frame next to Lucy in the pew. They, and a couple hundred other people, were attending Mimi’s funeral mass on Thursday morning in Our Lady of Hope church.

“Thanks, Barney. I did my best. You were a big help,” said Lucy, looking around the packed church. “Funny, I didn’t think she knew that many people.”

“It’s ’cause o’ the way she died,” said Barney. “They all come out of the woodwork for a murder.” He sighed. “She was a nice lady. Everybody at the station liked her. Felt sorry for her, you know, ’cause of her husband. Now I’m not sayin’ he hit her or anything but some men don’t have to, if you know what I mean. They get their wives scared and keep ’em scared, always afraid he’ll lose his temper.” Barney shifted in the pew, which groaned under his weight. “But lately, things seemed to be looking up for her. She seemed happier, more relaxed. The boys were older and more independent, they had that nice new house and, well, Fred’s business was doin’ better. I don’t care what people say, ’bout money not mattering, believe me, it matters. I’ve seen a lot of tragic situations that coulda been avoided if people coulda got a night out, gone on a vacation, fixed the car. You know?”

Lucy nodded. She knew.