An hour and a half later we pulled into a parking place at the Steele post office. We had decided on the way up the interstate that this was the only way to find Holden Crawford since all we had was a rural route address.

Urban sprawl from Birmingham has not reached Steele. With the exception of the modern post office and a cutesy tearoom painted blue, the one downtown street was lined with buildings that had been there for a century. Unlike many small Alabama towns, though, Steele seemed to be holding its own. Most of the buildings were well maintained and, most important, occupied by businesses. The sidewalks weren’t crowded, but neither were they empty. There was even a grocery store that was not part of a large chain. Several cars were parked in front of it.

“I’ll go ask,” Luke said.

We watched him go up the steps; the wind whipped against him and he covered his ears with his hands.

“Nice town,” I said. “Did you see the public library in that elegant old house?”

“The tearoom looked good.” Sister turned and pointed toward the basket on the seat beside me. “Hand me a sandwich. I’m hungry.”

“What kind?”

“Doesn’t matter. I hope Puke’s not in there long. It’s already getting cold in here.” She had draped the purple cape over the back of the seat. Now she pulled it around her shoulders and looked at the Ziploc bag I had given her. “There’s nothing runny in these sandwiches, is there? I don’t want to mess up this outfit.”

“Just turkey or ham.”

She unwrapped it and took a bite. “Turkey.”

I leaned forward and propped my arms on the back of the front seat.

“Did Luke tell you that Holden Crawford’s answering machine says you’ve reached Monkey Man? This whole thing is weird. You know? Can you imagine Virginia running off with a man called Monkey Man?”

Sister chewed thoughtfully and swallowed. “I can’t imagine a man called Monkey Man running off with Virginia. In fact, I can’t imagine any man running off with Virginia.”

“I can’t either,” I said truthfully. “That’s one thing that’s worrying me about this whole affair.”

“On the other hand, she’s just in her sixties. I guess it could have been eyes across a crowded room. Or through the window, in this case. Who knows?” Sister took another bite of sandwich. “Maybe she’s been doubling up on her estrogen.” She chewed. “I wonder if that works?”

“Maybe something’s happened to her and Luke knows it and isn’t telling us.”

“You’re crazy.”

Jet-lagged to hell and back, anyway.

Luke came out of the post office, plowing through the wind and the debris that was skittering along the steps.

“Lord!” he said, slamming the door. “It’s going to snow sure as anything.”

“What did you find out?” Sister asked.