I had no idea in the world what she was talking about. Thomas Jefferson floors? But the house was certainly impressive. I crossed a short brick walkway, stepped up two steps to the red-tile porch that stretched the width of the house, and rang the doorbell. I heard the familiar “Avon calling” chime, and a dog began to bark shrilly. I also heard a man’s voice say, “Hush,” I assumed to the dog.

I shook my head at Mary Alice. Wrong house. It had to be.

The door opened, and an elderly man in a wheelchair looked up at me. He was wearing a pale blue sweater that matched his eyes, a faded blue. A small terrier sat in his lap, teeth bared.

“Yes?”

The man looked like Colonel Sanders, white hair, goatee. For a second I wondered if this is what happens when you get older, you’ve seen so many faces that they all begin to resemble each other, like Virgil Stuckey and Willard Scott. That maybe there are only so many faces to go around.

“Yes?” he asked again.

“Is this the Mahall residence?”

“I’m Eugene Mahall.”

“Does Betsy Mahall live here?”

“I sure do.” Betsy came down the steps into the wide hall. “Mrs. Hollowell, this is my father-in-law, Eugene Mahall.”

“I told her who I was,” the old man said.

Betsy reached in her jeans pocket and handed me a key.

“Mrs. Hollowell is going up to Monk’s house,” she explained to her father-in-law.

“What for?” he asked. He and the dog both looked at me suspiciously.

“They’re trying to find her cousin.”

“Bunch of fools up there.” Mr. Mahall whirled his chair around and disappeared into the room on the left. The dog gave a bark.

Betsy stepped out onto the porch. “Do be careful,” she said.

The key was in my hand and I considered giving it back. “We’re not going to find any snakes up there, are we?”

Betsy shook her head. “No. Terry and I were up there yesterday after the funeral looking for the cameo one more time. All’s clear.”

I had to bite my tongue to keep from telling her the cameo had been found. As it was, I told her I was sure it would turn up soon.

“I’m still hoping,” she said. “I’d go with you today, but I have to stay with the children.”

“Are they okay?”

“They’re fine. Ethan’s napping and Jamie’s watching Mr. Rogers.”

“And you?”

“I’m all right. Yesterday was rough.”

“Betsy?” her father-in-law called.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Hollowell. I’d ask you in, but things are sort of in a mess right now.”

“That’s fine, Betsy.” I held up the key. “We’ll get this back to you later this afternoon.”

“No problem. I doubt I’ll be going up there anytime soon.”

“Betsy!” The call was a command.