She gave up trying to eat and pushed her food away. “I know it sounds crazy, but I’m sure she was that involved. And I’m sure that’s why she and Monk both were killed. Susan was a woman and Monk had lost his faith. The handlers don’t take kindly to either.”

“Women aren’t supposed to handle?”

“They can. They’re kept in subservient roles, though. Have to dress in long dresses, answer when their husbands crook their fingers. That kind of thing.”

I thought of the outfit Susan had worn in the church. The long skirt, how neatly it had been arranged around her. Was it possible that she had been killed in this day and age for being an “uppity” woman?

“Oh, I almost forgot.”

Betsy reached in her purse, which was hanging on the knob of the chair.

“I found this at Susan’s house yesterday. I think it may belong to your cousin. Her name is Virginia, isn’t it?”

“Virginia Nelson.”

I took the piece of paper that Betsy held out to me. On it was written “Virginia N. (206) 555-0105.”

“It was by the phone in Susan’s kitchen.”

206? I wondered where that area code was. And if this was really a lead to Luke’s Virginia. Virginia, even Virginia N. was a common name.

“Thanks,” I said, slipping the paper in my purse.

“I hope you find her there. Like I said, she’s somewhere and all right, though. Monk wouldn’t have hurt her.”

But someone had definitely hurt Monk and his daughter-in-law. Perhaps Virginia had been at the wrong place at the wrong time?

“And what I wanted to ask you about Susan was if you saw a cameo on her? She always wore a cameo on a long gold chain. Always. It belonged to our grandmother. I got her ring and Susan got her cameo. Susan said it was her talisman.”

“I didn’t see anything like that. She was lying on her stomach, though. It could have been under her.”

“Well, nobody brought it to me when they brought me her purse. And I looked all over her house for it.”

Tears welled again.

“She wouldn’t have been without it, Mrs. Hollowell. And it belongs to Jamie now.”

What could I say? “I didn’t see it, Betsy. I’m sorry.”

“I am, too. I was just hoping that you might remember. It’s an unusual, beautiful cameo. If you’d seen it, then I’d know that it disappeared somewhere between the church and the morgue and I could start tracing. I’m so worried that it’s gone.”

“You said when you called that you were scared.”

She dipped the plastic spoon into the soup again and stirred.

“I’m just scared the cameo is lost, that someone has taken it.”