“He and one of the deputies are searching for the gun.”

She cast her eyes back toward the row of cabins. “They’re searching our things?”

“Everyone gave their permission.” According to Anarchy, getting that permission had been like pulling teeth.

“I can’t change your mind?”

“You cannot.”

She turned away. The set of her shoulders told me she was unhappy.

“Libba?”

She looked back.

“Thanks for caring.”

“Always.” With a final, unhappy frown, she left me in peace.

I stretched and enjoyed the sun’s rays on my limbs. My eyes closed and the cicadas’ soporific drone lulled me. I let my mind wander, and whenever it brushed against murder, I set it in another direction. The fall fashions on the pages of my magazine. Boots. The painting I was working on in my studio. Anarchy's smile first thing in the morning.

“Mind if I join you?”

I opened my eyes.

Buffy stood to the left of my chaise. She had a pool bag over her shoulder, a book under her arm, and an enormous pair of extra-dark sunglasses perched on her nose. Like me she wore a one-piece swimsuit. Hers was yellow with a Kelly green, white, and sienna ribbon pattern. It also had a skirt.

“Please.” I gestured to the empty chaise next to me. “What are you reading?”

“The Moneychangers. I know people in Shaker Heights.”

I doubted her friends were in Hailey’s book. “How's Sumner?”

“Resting. I gave her a few Valium.” She glanced toward the row of cabins. “And I want to stay close by in case she needs me. The pool is just a stone’s throw away. Why are you here?”

“As opposed to the lake?”

She nodded.

“Water snakes.”

She shuddered. “I didn’t think of the snakes. A second reason to be at the pool.”

We shared a moment of understanding, then I asked, “How’s Sumner?”

“Her ankle is fine. She barely twisted it.”

“Did she say anything about Graham?”

“Not really. I think she’s in shock. Any normal woman would be. I mean he was struck down in cold blood.”

Given that I’d run over my late husband’s body without going into shock, I couldn’t agree with her normal woman assessment. I raised my brows.

“Oh my gracious.” She pressed her hand to her lips. “I just realized about Henry. But Sumner’s situation is different. You and Henry were…” Buffy searched for a polite way to say my husband was openly cheating on me.

Not that I cared to be reminded.

“Of course you weren’t in shock. After the way he treated you, you probably wanted him dead.”

My brows rose higher. “When Henry died, I worried about Grace’s feelings not my own.” I borrowed Mother’s best mind-yourself voice—the one that had me correct my posture, fold my hands in my lap, and agree with almost anything she said.