“Why would anyone think a man like Sam Miller would kill himself?” demanded Rachel Goodman. “He had everything, including Marcia.”

“If you ask me,” Franny Small informed the group, “I think Marcia is the prime suspect.”

“The wife usually is,” agreed Lucy. “But I can’t imagine her being mechanical enough to rig up a hose. She might have gotten her hands dirty.”

“She really is a stuck-up little bitch. She thinks an awful lot of herself,” commented Rachel, running the side of her fork around her dessert plate and licking it clean with her little pink tongue. “When I invited her to join the Friends of the Tinker’s Cove Library, she just turned me down flat. Made me feel as if I were social climbing or something. I was just trying to be friendly,” Rachel defended herself.

“They may live here in town, but the Millers have never really been part of the town,” Sue said. “I mean, there’s a certain distance. You wouldn’t just drop by for a cup of coffee and a chat.”

Lucy chuckled. “Imagine dropping in on Marcia Miller!”

“Oh, Sid got to know her pretty well,” announced Sue. “He’s spent quite a lot of time in her bedroom.”

“Oh, really?” inquired Lucy. “How did that happen? Why aren’t you upset?”

“It wasn’t like that,” Sue admitted. “He installed a closet system for her.”

“Tell us more, Sue,” said Lucy. “What did he say when he got home?”

“He said she had a lot of clothes, and”—Sue stretched the words out, clearly saving the best for last—“they have separate bedrooms.”

“Really?” Lucy was incredulous. “Lydia, you’re always the first to know about these things. Weren’t the Millers happy?”

Lydia smiled. “It’s not my fault. Kindergartners tell their teacher everything. They just can’t keep secrets. But little Sam seems happy enough. He’s a quiet little fellow. Not abnormal. I thought, well, maybe he’s just a well-brought-up boy with good manners.”

“That’s not much help,” complained Lucy. “What about your mom, Franny? She always knows everything that’s going on.”

“You can say that again,” agreed Pam indignantly. “I saw her at the IGA and she told me that Jennifer had gotten her first period, and that was before Jennifer even got home from school.”

Franny moaned. “It’s not as bad as it sounds. She’s awfully good friends with the school nurse.”

“I dread to think what you’ve heard about my kids,” Lucy worried.

“I don’t listen to her,” admitted Franny. “I’ve got my own life to live.”

“Don’t we all. Too much life, in fact. I’m never going to be ready for Christmas. But I still can’t help wondering why someone would kill Sam Miller,” Lucy said pensively.

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FOUR