“Thanks.” Luke picked up a spoon and began to eat silently, glancing occasionally out of the bay window. Somehow this worried me more than the nonstop talk of the day before.

“I could fix us some sandwiches to take,” I offered, finishing my cereal. “Turkey? Ham?”

He nodded, though I was sure my words hadn’t scored a hit. Wherever Luke’s thoughts were, they weren’t in my kitchen.

I got the sandwich makings out of the refrigerator and was spreading mayonnaise on a slice of bread when Luke said, “I think Virginia’s dead, Patricia Anne.”

“Oh, Luke, of course she’s not. Don’t even think like that. We’re going to find her today.”

“No, we’re not.”

There was a finality in his voice that made me look up. He was staring out of the window, both hands clasped around a coffee mug.

Did he know more than he had told us? Had sixty-three-year old Virginia run off with a house painter or had something else happened? How well did we really know Luke? We saw him at family weddings and funerals, exchanged Christmas and birthday cards.

I slapped a slice of turkey on the bread and told myself I was crazy, still jet-lagged. This was Pukey Lukey, our cousin, for heaven’s sake. Nevertheless, I jumped when Luke pushed his chair back. He came over, put his mug in the dishwasher, and gave me a hug.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” The hug was sweet, appreciative. What on God’s earth had I been thinking?

“I’m going to call that phone number one more time,” he said. “What kind of a person would call himself Monkey Man?”

I shrugged. I had just seen Sister coming up the back steps. “Is she going with us?”

“I asked her yesterday. That’s okay, isn’t it?”

“Fine.” Given the thoughts that were zipping through my brain all morning, it was more than fine. “I’ll fix some more sandwiches.”

“Lord, it’s cold. Y’all ready? I swear I think it’s going to snow.” Sister swept in dressed in a dark purple cape which looked like a purple blanket with slits for the arms. Add to that purple boots. The Fruit of the Loom people would have hired her in a minute for a commercial.

“That’s some outfit,” Luke said.

Sister twirled. “Warsaw. I haven’t seen anything like it here.”

I hadn’t seen anything like it in Warsaw.

“Pour yourself a cup of coffee,” I said. “We’ll be ready in a minute.”

“I’ve got us a whole thermos of coffee in the car.”

The first look of pleasure that I’d seen since Luke had gotten here lit up his face. “You’re going to let me ride in your Jaguar?”

The woman didn’t miss a beat. “I think your car would be more comfortable.”