There was silence for a moment. I could imagine Louellen taking long drags from her cigarette, the smoke curling toward the ceiling.

“How did you get out?” I asked. I had no idea if she would answer or not, but it seemed important to know.

“Monk Crawford came to paint the house one day. When he left, I went with him.”

That sounded so familiar I almost laughed. For a moment I wondered how things were going in Columbus with Luke and Virginia.

“But, Mrs. Hollowell,” she continued, “I truly don’t think you have to worry about those children’s safety. Children are what Eugene’s always wanted.”

And what Terry and Betsy hadn’t been able to give him.

I thanked her for her help and hung up with the promise to let her know if I learned anything about the murders. Then I stepped into a warm shower, closed my eyes, and tried to relax. Terry Mahall had handed over to his father what he had always wanted, the beginning of a dynasty. Or had it been Betsy? One more reason for Susan Crawford’s death.

The next morning was cold, but clear. I warmed the leftover soup from the night before and put it into a thermos for Fred’s lunch, kissed him goodbye, and went to check my E-mail. Nothing. Even the large lesbians seemed to have deserted me. I got Woofer’s leash, and we walked around several blocks. My face still looked as if I had been in a fight, but it felt better.

As we came back by Mitzi’s house, she opened the front door and called, “How’s Brother?”

“Fine. I’m going over there this morning. You want to go?”

“Can’t. I’ve got to keep Andrew Cade while Bridget goes shopping. Tell Debbie I’ll be over soon, though.”

I wanted grandchildren close enough to keep while their mothers went shopping. Lisa and Alan and our two grandsons have always lived in Atlanta, a little too far for a drop-in visit. Haley, get pregnant with twins, I said to the morning sky. A boy and a girl. I’ll baby-sit all you want.

I gave Mitzi a wave and opened the gate. A couple of treats for Woofer, which he took into his igloo, and I was in the kitchen pouring myself my second cup of coffee. Morning sun was gleaming across the white table in the bay window. Muffin was lying across the heating vent and cat hairs were flying. Probably worse than Mary Alice’s Bubba Cat on his heating pad on the kitchen counter. I moved Muffin over to her rug. She immediately got up and moved back to the vent. How was I going to bear parting with her when Haley came back?