I sighed and turned on my side. Muffin jumped up beside me, purring, happy for night company. I stroked her and felt a slight crackle of electricity.

What, I thought, if the murderer had been placing Susan’s body on the bench when Luke entered the church. He could have ducked behind the box the snakes were kept in, and when Luke saw Susan and started toward her, he could have tried to run out of the side door. Luke could have turned and seen—

Virginia.

But why?

He had to be mistaken. Even if there were a reason for Virginia to want Susan dead, there was no way she could have broken her neck, twisted it around. Virginia was a woman in her sixties and no Amazon.

Unless it were an accident. Was that possible? A fall on the rocks? If so, why not just call 911? Why lay her out so symbolically in the church, her hands folded. Besides, Virginia couldn’t have picked Susan’s body up, let alone carry it any distance.

But there had to be some connection between Susan’s death and Monk’s. The cameo. Had Susan been in the car? Been killed in the car, the cameo slipping off as her neck was broken? Were the snakes that would mean death to Monk Crawford already in the car when he and Virginia drove to Pulaski?

And how in the hell had Virginia Nelson gotten mixed up in this anyway?

E-MAIL

FROM: HALEY

TO: MAMA AND PAPA

SUBJECT: THE POPE

You will never believe this. Philip and I are going to Rome this weekend for an audience with the pope. I swear, y’all. Isn’t that the most wonderful thing you ever heard of? It’s not going to be one of those stand in a crowd things where he waves and blesses everybody at one time, either. This is going to be a sure-enough face-to-face, how-do-you-do, bless-you-my-child handshake, or whatever he does, meeting.

So we’re off to meet the pope. What do you think I should wear? Ask Aunt Sister. She knows about stuff like that. I know I’m supposed to cover my head. But are you supposed to bow? Don’t you kiss his ring or something?

I don’t speak Polish well enough to ask anybody here. Don’t want them to know I’m so naive anyway. Call down at St. Paul’s, Mama, and see what they say. Philip is laughing about it. Because I’m so nervous and excited. But imagine being blessed by the pope himself. And I think Philip is a lot more excited than he’s letting on.

Aren’t the Trimms across the street Catholic? And Celia, Freddie’s girlfriend? They probably wouldn’t know, though. This is sure enough big time. Maybe you’d better call St. Paul’s.

Let me know as soon as you can. We’re leaving day after tomorrow.

I love you both,

Haley