'Where did he travel?'

'Raleigh, mostly.'

'Did he ever visit Bryson City?'

'Where's that, dear?'

'It's in the mountains.'

'Oh, Pat loved the mountains, went there whenever he could.'

'Did you travel with your husband?'

'Oh no, no. I have the arthritis, and…' Her voice trailed off, as though uncertain where to go with the thought.

'Arthritis can be very painful.'

'Yes, it surely is. And those trips were realy Pat's time with the boys. Do you mind if I finish my watering?'

'Please.'

I walked beside her as she moved along the pansy beds.

'Mr. Veckhoff went to the mountains with your sons?'

'Oh, no. Pat and I have a daughter. She's married now. He went with his chums.' She laughed, a sound halfway between a choke and a hiccup. 'He said it was to get away from his women, to put the fire back into his bely.'

'He went to the mountains with other men?'

'Those boys were very close, been friends since their school days. They miss Pat terribly. Kendal, too. Yes, we're getting old…' Again her voice tapered into silence.

'Kendal?'

'Kendal Rolins. He was the first to go. Kendal was a poet. Do you know his work?'

I shook my head, outwardly calm. Inside my heart was thumping. The name 'Rolins' was on the H&F list.

'Kendal died of leukemia when he was fifty-five.'

'That's very young. When was that, ma'am?'

'Nineteen eighty-six.'

'Where did your husband and his friends stay in the mountains?'

Her face tensed, and the comma of skin under her left eye jumped.

'They had some kind of lodge. Why are you asking about al this?'

'A plane crashed recently near Bryson City, and I'm trying to learn what I can about a nearby property. Your husband might have been one of the owners.'

'That terrible affair with al those students?'

'Yes.'

'Why do young people have to die? A young man was kiled flying to my husband's funeral. Forty-three years old.' Her head wagged.

'Who was that, ma'am?'

She looked away.

'He was the son of one of Pat's friends, lived in Alabama, so I'd never met him. Stil, it broke my heart.'

'Do you know his name?'

'No.'

Her eyes would not meet mine.

'Do you know the names of the others who went to the lodge?'

She began fidgeting with the nozzle.

'Mrs. Veckhoff?'

'Pat never talked about those trips. I left it to him. He needed privacy, being in the public eye so much.'

'Have you ever heard of the H&F Investment Group?'

'No.' She remained focused on the hose, her back to me, but I could see tension in her shoulders.

'Mrs. Veck—'

'It's late. I have to go inside now.'