“What was he doing there?”

“I don’t know. He was in the gun side of the shop, though. Maybe he thinks he better get himself some protection now that he’s laid off half the town.”

“Mrs. Stone, can I watch TV?” Eddie’s hair showed signs of recent combing, and there were dribbles of toothpaste on his shirt.

“Sure. Come here a minute.” Lucy rubbed at the stains with a damp corner of a kitchen towel. “We’d better get this show on the road.”

Bev, quick to take a hint, rose to her feet and began putting on her coat. “Be sure to tell Marge that I’d be happy to help. All she has to do is call.”

“I’ll do it. Take care, now.” Lucy closed the door and started washing up the dishes. It didn’t take long for her to tidy up the little house, folding the afghan on the couch, straightening Eddie’s bed, and giving the bathroom and kitchen a quick wipe. She wanted it to look nice for Marge when she returned.

Then she had Eddie pack up some toys and they drove over to the Stillingses’ house. Pam opened the door for them, smiling her huge smile and welcoming them in a voice that could probably be heard in Alaska.

“Hi, Eddie,” she shrieked. “Adam’s playing in the living room.”

“What did you tell him?” she whispered loudly to Lucy as Eddie made his way down the hall.

Lucy shrugged and smiled apologetically. “I’m operating on a ‘need to know’ basis. I told him his dad had an accident, he’s in the hospital, and that his mother’s with him. I told him she’d be home this afternoon. I tried to keep things as normal for him as I could.”

“Good.” Pam nodded approvingly. She belonged to a generation that took their children’s mental health as seriously as their temperatures. “It’s best to let Marge decide how much to tell him. Just as long as he doesn’t think the accident was his fault.”

As she spoke, Pam gave up trying to whisper and her voice rose to its usual piercing decibel. Lucy had often thought Pam’s loud voice, and her understanding of child psychology, were the remnants of her brief career as a nursery school teacher.

“The most important thing,” she said, concluding her lecture, “is to maintain his usual routine. Children find that very reassuring.” She moved aside so her husband could get through the door.

“Hi, Lucy. Good-bye, Lucy,” said Ted. The two women watched him stride down the path toward his car, his reporter’s notebook sticking out of his back pocket and his camera bag slung over his shoulder.

“Ted’s been so excited, having a big story,” confided Pam. “There’s never even been a murder in Tinker’s Cove before this. Ted says the police are very suspicious about Barney’s accident.”