A missing knife and a stabbed woman. Two plus two usually made four. “May I see one of your other knives?”

She fetched her case from the counter and withdrew a paring knife.

I ignored the blade and studied the handle. I’d been so unnerved by the trek through the dark woods, finding Buffy’s body, and the snake bite, that I’d forgotten what the knife looked like. I couldn’t describe the murder weapon if my life depended on it.

“Is it the same?” She caught her lower lip in her teeth and reclaimed her seat.

“I honestly can't tell. Which knife is missing?”

She rested one hand on her tummy and the other on the table. “My utility knife. What if it was used in a murder?”

“How long is the blade?”

“Six inches.”

Two plus two equaled four.

“I’ll ask Deputy Harden to bring by a picture of the knife. He can compare the handles.”

She stood abruptly and returned to the counter where the biscuits cooled. "I meant to get you a biscuit.”

“Even if the killer used your knife, Buffy’s murder isn’t your fault.”

Her shoulders hunched.

“Have you noticed anything this weekend?” I asked. “Things that seem…strange?”

She put a plate with two warm, golden biscuits in front of me, then added a crock of butter and a jam jar.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. You live in a strange world, Mrs. Jones.”

I sliced open a biscuit. “What do you mean?”

“You’re all friends, but you don’t really like each other.”

“Yes, and no. There are women here who’ve been my friends since I was a toddler. They'll be my friends for the rest of my life.” Libba and I were together for the long haul.

“The rest?”

“You’re right about the rest. Friends of circumstance rather than the heart.”

“What was Mrs. Geller?”

“To me? We were friendly. We knew the same people, as did our mothers before us. We might meet for lunch or invite each other to cocktail parties, but we weren’t close. Nor was she close with Libba or Liz. I can’t speak to her relationships with the other women.”

“What about Mrs. Landingham?”

“I don’t know her very well.” She definitely fell in the friends of circumstance category. “Why do you ask?”

Misty wiped her clean, dry hands on a towel. “It must be awful, losing her husband like that.” She turned back to the oven and fiddled with the knobs. “Were they happy?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. I know he had an affair.”

Misty looked over her shoulder. “I—"

“There you are.” Randy burst into the kitchen. “How’s your husband?”

“Doing fine.”

Bear’s tail thwacked the floor, and he grinned.