“Unusual hairdo.” I couldn’t resist. Sister’s hair was pulled back into random patches, some of them caught with bobby pins.

“I’ve been to Delta Hairlines. It’s the Dharma look.”

I’m sure I looked blank.

“You know, Dharma from Dharma and Greg, the television show. Don’t you and Fred ever watch anything but Wheel of Fortune and Biography?”

“We’re always in a hurry to get to bed.”

“You wish.”

I poured syrup over the French toast. “You hear from Richard and Luke this morning?”

“Richard called while I was eating breakfast.”

I pointed to the French toast. “What’s this, then?”

Sister didn’t miss a beat. “Brunch. Anyway, he ended up driving because there wasn’t a direct flight until this morning and he said it was quicker than having to fly through Atlanta and change planes.”

“How’s his mama?”

“Feisty enough to tell Luke she was filing for divorce.”

“Must have regained her feist when she found out she wasn’t a felon.”

Sister frowned at me and chomped into a piece of bacon.

“What about the Gordon guy? Is he going to be okay?”

Sister nodded, chewing. When she swallowed she said, “They met on the Internet. I don’t know any of the details. I guess we’ll find out this afternoon, though. They’re coming back to my house. Virgil’s going to meet them there at three o’clock to grill her.”

“Gonna grill her, huh?”

Sister speared another piece of French toast and held it in the air. A drop of syrup dripped onto her plate.

“Should be interesting. You want to come?”

You bet I did. I wanted to know what had happened on Chandler Mountain, things that Virginia might have the answers for. Things that the Chandler Mountain booger couldn’t be blamed for, things that Betsy Mahall was frightened of.

On a hell-warmed-over scale of one to ten, Virginia’s looks would warrant a solid eight. Granted, the afternoon light in Sister’s sunroom was not flattering to anyone older than Tiffany, who was placing snacks on the coffee table and smiling at Richard (obviously this was going to be an informal interrogation), but Virginia looked rough. Her hair was a mahogany red, pulled straight back and either greased down with VO5 or in bad need of a shampoo. There were dark circles under her eyes and her lips looked strange, puffy. Surely Luke hadn’t hit her.

I caught Sister’s eye, nodded slightly toward Virginia, and touched my lips.

She mouthed something I didn’t understand.

“What?” I mouthed back.

She reached into the end-table drawer, and in a moment handed me a Post-it with “Collagen” written on it. I folded the paper and put it in my pocket.

Virginia picked up her coffee cup and I watched with interest to see if she dribbled. She didn’t. I think I was equating collagen with novocaine.