Davidson turned away from the pulpit and almost collapsed onto the ornate, gothic armchair that stood behind the pulpit. He stayed there, leaning on his elbow and covering his face with his hand, while they all sang the final hymn.

When it was over, Marcia sailed serenely out of the church, her veils billowing around her face. No one, of course, could see her expression. Lucy did happen to catch a glimpse of Tom Miller’s face as he watched Marcia climb into a large black limousine, and she thought he looked perfectly disgusted.

“What did you think of that?” she asked Sue as they drove down the highway to Portland.

“Well, I was surprised to learn that Sam Miller wanted to be my friend. I would have invited him over for potluck if only I’d known.”

Lucy laughed. “Me too. And what was Marcia trying to do? Did you believe that veil?”

“I don’t know,” said Sue, shaking her head. “She had to do something. The rumors are terrible.”

“I don’t see how she could have done it. She always wears such high heels. I couldn’t walk in shoes like that, much less kill someone.”

“One thing you can be sure of,” Sue advised her friend. “If she did kill him, she wore exactly the right outfit.” They both laughed. “She could have hired someone to do it.”

“Maybe,” admitted Lucy. “But I saw them dancing at the profit-sharing dinner, and they looked so nice together. I just can’t believe it. I’ve heard that some people think it was Tom Miller.”

“Tom?” Sue’s voice rose in disbelief.

“Yeah, an extreme case of sibling rivalry. You only have one kid, Sue. If you did, you’d know how murderous things can get. And Sam really did overshadow Tom. Tom might have been seething inside for years.”

“Well, I’ve never noticed him seething. He seems like such a nice boy.” Sue laughed mischievously. “And he takes such good care of his mother.”

“You’re probably right,” conceded Lucy. “Dave Davidson could be on the right track. It must be some maniac from outside town. A prison escapee or something. But I thought those guys always play with their victims first. I don’t think a homicidal maniac would choose carbon monoxide.”

“You think it was a professional?”

“No, I think it was somebody who was afraid of blood. Somebody who wasn’t terribly handy with guns and knives.” Lucy paused for a minute, then blurted out, “Somebody like me!” She laughed. “That’s what I’d choose, if I were going to murder somebody. No mess, no bother.”

The rest of the day passed in a frenzy of spending that Lucy feared might wear the numbers right off her Visa card. At the very least, she hoped the closing date for next month’s bill had passed.