“I’ll tell you what . . . could you text that to me?” She stood and shoved her hair back from her face. “Paper appears to be in short supply, and my brain’s not quite awake yet. In the interest of full disclosure, I’m not a morning person.”

“No problem. It’s about a twenty-five-minute drive from your place.”

“Look for me in forty minutes.”

“Don’t rush. The deceased isn’t going anywhere.”

Yawning, she padded over to the closet in her sleep shirt and pulled out a pair of slacks. “That’s a riff on the old saying in morgues at quitting time—they’ll still be dead tomorrow.” She grabbed a shirt off a hanger. “Who’s the victim?”

“I’m not certain yet she is a victim, but her name’s Lorraine Meyers. Ring any bells?”

“Nope. I’m hanging up so I can get dressed.”

Dead silence.

Her lips twitched. “Erase those thoughts, Sheriff.”

“You’re a mind reader now?” Amusement lightened his tone.

“Doesn’t take telepathic abilities to decode the male mind.”

“Is that a sexist remark?”

“Am I wrong?”

“No comment. I’ll see you soon.”

The line went dead.

Grinning, Grace threw on her clothes, ran a brush through her hair, and slapped on lipstick and a touch of mascara. It wasn’t her best makeup job, but she’d pull out all the stops on Saturday night.

Thirty-seven minutes later, she pulled in between Nate’s Jeep and Russ’s truck, set the brake, and surveyed the farmhouse. The porch sagged in one section, the parched wood cried out for a new coat of paint, and part of the gutter was missing.

There wasn’t any spare money to be had on this property.

Grace retrieved her bag from the trunk and walked up the steps to the porch.

Nate opened the screen door from the inside as she approached. “You got here fast.”

She sidled past him. “I pushed the speed limit a hair. But if I’d gotten a ticket, I do have connections.”

“Culling favors?”

“I was on official business.”

“I suppose that could justify fixing a ticket.”

“Didn’t happen anyway. Tell me what we have here.”

“The call came in about two hours ago. From Lorraine.”

Grace frowned. “She was alive two hours ago?”

“Yes. And very sick. She asked for an ambulance. The dispatcher tried to keep her on the line, but she hung up. One of my deputies and the EMTs came. She was dead when they arrived. They called Russ, and after he got the lay of the land—she had no close family that he could tell, lived alone, didn’t appear to be wealthy—he called me. I called you. As soon as we finish here, I’ll track down her attorney. You’re up to speed.”

“Where is she?”

“In the den in back.” He motioned toward the rear of the house and began walking that direction. “The deputy found her on the floor next to a puddle of vomit, a towel beside her. It appeared she was trying to clean up the mess.”