“No. He came late and left early.” Sister got up. “I’m going to get some aspirin.”

“Take it with some Maalox.”

“I’m taking it with some bourbon.” She went inside and pulled the sliding door shut. That’s why, a few minutes later, she didn’t hear the scream, a scream of such desolation and terror that I jumped straight up, the back of my neck tingling, my heart racing. The next scream sent me banging into the glass door, trying to find the handle, finding it and almost falling inside. Mary Alice looked up, startled. “What’s the matter?”

I pointed to the balcony with one hand. The other held my heart in my chest.

“What?”

“Scream,” I managed to say.

“Oh, that’s just kids, Mouse. For heaven’s sake. They do that all the time.”

I shook my head no. Mary Alice looked at me questioningly and walked out onto the balcony. I stayed behind her.

“I don’t hear anything,” she said.

“It was a scream, damn it, right here.”

She came back in and shut the door. “A kid on one of the balconies. Probably on the floor below us.”

“I think it was next door in Laura’s apartment.”

“No one’s there. I just called.”

“Nobody would answer the phone if somebody was trying to kill them.”

“Get real, Mouse.”

Just at that moment there was a loud knock on the door. We both jumped a mile.

“Don’t open it,” I whispered.

“I’ll look before I do.” Mary Alice marched toward the door. “Damn,” she muttered, her eye to the peephole. “It’s that dickless Tracy.”

“And a good evening to you ladies again, too,” Officer Lisa Andrews said, stepping inside the foyer as Mary Alice opened the door. The evening dampness was doing a number on her curly hair, I noticed.

I almost threw myself on her. “Scream! Right next door. Something awful’s happening!”

Lisa Andrews backed up a couple of steps. “What?”

“For heaven’s sake, Mouse,” Mary Alice said. And then to the officer, “It’s kids yelling. You know how it is in the summer. Patricia Anne’s just nervous.”

“I think the scream came from next door,” I said.

But I was ignored. Mary Alice turned to Lisa Andrews. “What do you want? We told you everything we know. We even came home, as you suggested so politely.”

“Have you already told Mr. Weatherby about Mrs. Peacock’s death?”

“No,” Sister admitted. “I’m worried about him. He doesn’t look well at all. We were going to see if we could get the doctor from downstairs to go with us.”

“What’s the doctor’s name?”

“I don’t remember. The Stampses next door would know but they’re not home.”

“Probably murdered,” I muttered.

Lisa Andrews smiled patronizingly at me. “I’ll check it out, Mrs. Hollowell.” And almost as an afterthought, “Mrs. Peacock left Mr. Weatherby a note.”