“Sure. He’s one of the head honchos in the Polar Bear Club. Bunch of old fools get naked and go swimming every winter, freeze their balls off. Get arrested every time because their wives call and tell us when they’re going. Scared they’re going to have a heart attack. That’s his wife?” She motioned toward the water.

We all nodded.

“I think I’ve talked to her.” She turned and screeched, “Buddy! You get the marines?” We all jumped.

“They’re out of the boat,” he answered. “They’ll be here in a few minutes in the van.”

“Well,” Lisa Andrews said, “I guess there’s no hurry. Why don’t y’all sit down and make yourselves comfortable?”

We sat and looked over the darkening harbor. Lisa Andrews went over and joined the three men who were huddled around Millicent’s body.

“What,” Frances wondered, “if someone got killed in the dunes and it rained.”

“You’d have to wait on the Marine Patrol,” Mary Alice said.

“My tail hurts,” I said, but nobody was paying any attention.

In June, twilight lasts a long time, but we were about to run out of light when the Florida Marine Patrol officers finally made it over the dune.

“Where the hell you been?” Lisa Andrews called when she spotted them.

“Home eating supper,” one of them said.

“You probably shouldn’t have! Wait till you see this!” Lisa Andrews sounded gleeful.

“I think I hate that woman,” Sister said. “Don’t you hate women like that, Mouse?”

“Women like what? My tail hurts. I may need to go to the emergency room.”

“You know. Trying to act tough.”

“Maybe she is tough,” Frances said. “Women in her position have to be, have to develop a tough veneer.”

“The guidance counselor has spoken,” Mary Alice said.

Frances began to cry. “I think I better just go home tonight. I wasn’t expecting the vacation from hell.”

Haley put her arms around her. “It’ll be all right as soon as we get away from here, won’t it, Aunt Sister?”

“I’m sorry, Frances,” Sister said. “I’m just upset.”

“I’m in pain,” I said.

“Ladies?” A large man with thinning hair and a round, babyish face had walked up. He was dressed in the uniform of the Florida Marine Patrol. “I’m Lieutenant Major Bissell. I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

“Please hurry,” Mary Alice said. “I need to go to the bathroom.”

He smiled. “I’ll make it quick as I can.” He took out the usual notepad and pen. “Your names?”

We supplied that, our addresses, where we were staying in Destin, and why we were there.

“I’m going to the writers’ conference, too,” he said, beaming at Sister. By now it was so dark, he had had to turn a penlight on to see his notepad.