“Just about it. She’d given up on grandchildren until Debbie got pregnant with the twins, you know.”

“Haley will be next.”

“I hope so.” I pointed toward Bo’s cup. She shook her head no and said she needed to get on home and get some sleep.

“Well, let me ask you something before you go. Susan Crawford’s body in the church? The way it was laid out? I’ve been thinking about it. Have you ever run up on any bodies that are fixed just so, with their clothes fixed neatly, and even their hair looking like it had been brushed?”

“I get the drive-by shootings and the ODs under the interstate. They’re laid out all right, just the way they quit breathing.”

“Well, what about women murderers? Do you think they would tend to straighten up the bodies more?”

“Patricia Anne, have you lost your mind? Of course not. They’d get the hell out as quick as any man. Quicker, maybe. You think tidying up is some kind of innate female thing, regardless of the circumstances? Lord, girl!

“Tell you what, though.” Bo followed me into the den where I had put her coat. “We did have a case in West End where an eighty-year-old man killed his wife who had Alzheimer’s. Smothered her with a pillow. He had her all bathed and in her prettiest nightgown when he called us. Even had makeup on her.”

Bo held out her arms for her coat. “Only time I ever cried at a murder scene. And didn’t feel a damn bit bad about it. A man named Jeff Maloney answered the call with me and he was sniffling, too. Damn.”

“And someone broke Susan Crawford’s neck and then laid her out like they loved her.”

Bo slipped into her coat. “Maybe it wasn’t the same person. Maybe someone found her dead and took her into the church.”

I hadn’t thought of that possibility. But after Bo left with promises of calling soon, I had Joe Baker killing Susan and Monk finding the body and laying her out in the church. Or Eugene Mahall killing Susan (I could think of no reason for my suspicion except that he had lied about walking), and Betsy finding the body. She could have been the woman Luke swore he saw in the church. But that didn’t make sense. Betsy would have called the police immediately if she had found Susan’s body. Surely she would have.

I finished loading the dishwasher and turned it on. One thing I was sure of now. Whoever had put Susan Crawford’s body in the church, whoever had straightened her clothes and combed her hair, had cared deeply for her.