“There’s a corkscrew here somewhere.” She opened the drawer next to the kitchen sink and rifled through it. "Success." She held up the corkscrew, used it to open the wine, then took two juice glasses from the cabinet, and poured.

“Thank you.” I took a glass from her outstretched hand.

“Have a seat.”

I pulled a chair away from the table and sank onto it.

She joined me. “We had no idea when we planned this that it would be the hottest weekend of the year.”

She could complain about the heat, but Liz looked like she'd stepped into her backyard to pick a few tomatoes. Pleasantly flushed.

I looked like I’d worked a double-shift on a road crew. “It’s brutal.”

We clinked the rims of our juice glasses, and Liz said, “You've had a day.”

I drank. "I have."

“I really wasn’t eavesdropping. I promise.” She stared into her glass. “I couldn’t help but hear Sumner hint that Bill was the killer. Do you think she’s right?”

“I have no idea.”

“I wonder what she meant about Bill’s business.”

Liz wanted conjecture. I concentrated on the wine, which was cool and crisp and delicious.

“What else did Sumner say?” she asked.

“Not much.”

“She seems genuinely upset.”

“Her husband was murdered.” I took another sip of wine. “What were the chances of Graham becoming managing partner?”

Liz curled her lip as if her wine had turned sour. “Better than fifty percent.”

“Even with the number of people who disliked him?”

“He brought in business.” She snorted. “Or stole it.”

“You and Willa put this weekend together. Why did Willa ask them?”

“Thatch insisted. He said we needed to be friendly.”

“I went shooting with Thatch and Graham yesterday. There was an undercurrent that wasn’t friendly.”

She nodded. “Not surprising. The two men didn't like each other. They just pretended they did.”

“Why bother?”

“They had to work together. Being civil helped with that.”

“I see.”

“Look, I don’t know who killed Graham, but I do know it wasn’t Perry or Thatch.”

“I understand believing in your husband, but what makes you so sure about Thatch?”

“Willa swears he’s innocent.”

Thatch had wanted Graham here. He’d insisted. Now Graham was dead. I wasn’t nearly as certain of Thatch’s innocence as Willa. “This is going to sound awful, but why invite Merit and Tommy?”

She wrinkled her nose. “She can be a lot to take. But Perry and Tommy have been friends for years.”

“Tommy seems to be drinking a lot.” Like a fish.

“More than a lot. We're worried about him.”

“Any idea why?”

“If I had to live with Merit, I’d drink, too.”

She made a fair point. I raised my juice glass.

“So, Bill.” She took a sip of wine. “Did he do it?”

“He’s one of the few people with an actual alibi.”