“Yes,” Fred agreed. I gave him a sharp look. He had fallen into his king-of-the-mountain mode.

Mary Alice walked Berry to the door and they stood there for a moment whispering.

“The two of you seem to be hitting it off fine,” I told her when she came back into the room.

“He still counting dimples?” Fred asked.

Sister surprised me. She smiled and said that, as a matter of fact, he was, and that it was amazing how many he had discovered. Then she picked up her wine glass, told us good night, disappeared into her room, and shut the door.

“What’s the matter with you?” I asked Fred.

“I’m hungry. I’m going to go find the doggy bag. Any takers?”

“I want some,” Haley said.

Frances sat on the sofa examining her fingernails carefully.

“Penny for your thoughts,” I said.

“Just thinking about Jason Marley over there by himself in that beautiful pink house. That’s not a bachelor’s house, Patricia Anne. That’s a Hansel and Gretel house.” I had no idea what a Hansel and Gretel house was, but I knew where this was headed.

“You can check on him tomorrow,” I said. “See if he needs comforting.”

“I’m sure he does,” Frances smiled.

Before we went to bed, I knocked on Sister’s door. Her departure had been too sudden, too agreeable.

“You okay?” I asked. She was lying on the bed wearing the peignoir that had nearly blinded Fairchild and reading Beach Music.

“Sure. I had a good time tonight.”

“You did a great job at the reading. I was proud of you.”

She patted the bed and I sat down beside her. “Tell me about the turtles.”

I did, describing the eggs and the way the turtle cried and groaned. The way Haley had said, “Push!” “Maybe we can all go back tomorrow night,” I added.

Sister shook her head no. “Berry and I are going to The Slipper dancing. He’s a great dancer, Mouse.”

“He can dip you?”

“You got it.”

“Fairchild wanted to make sure you were coming to the funeral tomorrow. Fred asked what he could do for him and he said bring Mary Alice.”

“That’s sweet.”

Was Sister half crocked? God forbid that she was falling in love.

“Fairchild also told us that Eddie Stamps is in the early stages of Alzheimer’s.”

That got her attention. “Really? I haven’t noticed anything.”

“He says Laura’s done a good job of covering up for Eddie. Fairchild is convinced the police think he killed Millicent and Emily. Fairchild, that is, not Eddie.”

“Fairchild wouldn’t hurt a flea.” Sister yawned and then smiled.

Lord, let her be half crocked!