“He was patronizing, Patricia Anne. Policemen tend to be that way, or haven’t you noticed? Policemen and the teenagers who carry out groceries at the Southern Super Market. They may be the worst. One of them called me ‘Sweetheart’ the other day. Can you believe that? ‘Do you want me to put these eggs in front, sweetheart?’ That’s what he said, exactly. I considered hitting him over the head with my purse. It might have killed him, and he’d have dropped the eggs, but I don’t think any jury would have convicted me. Do you?”

“Justifiable homicide,” I agreed. I waved to Frances on the beach. “I hope she has on enough sunscreen.”

“Sharp. He thought it was sharp of us to figure out Emily hadn’t shot herself.”

“Well, it was.”

“I’m not about to tell him Eddie and probably Jason Marley are the murderers. See how long it takes him to figure that out.”

“Hmmm.” Laura had been dropped from her list of suspects, I noticed.

Haley came out to the balcony. “He’s a nice man, isn’t he?”

“Hmmm.” It was Sister’s turn.

“I got the stats for y’all. Thirty-three years old, Mama. Never been married. Graduate of Florida State. Born in Fort Walton. His father’s a charter boat captain, owns The Lucky Marie berthed at Kelly’s Wharf. His mother’s a church secretary.”

“You got everything but his sperm count, didn’t you?” Sister said. “I hope he’s doing better there than he is in the hair department.”

Give Haley credit: she laughed. “What’s the matter with you, Aunt Sister?”

“She thinks he was patronizing,” I explained. “And one of the baggers at Southern Super Market called her ‘Sweetheart’ the other day.”

“I can talk for myself,” Mary Alice said. “He was patronizing.”

“He’s nice, though.” Haley waved at Frances. “I hope she’s got on a lot of sunscreen. That sun’s hot today.”

“I thought you looked a little flushed when you came in,” I said.

“I think it’s time for me to go to the beach.” And with that, Haley left.

“Look what you did,” Mary Alice said.

The reading was to be held in a small amphitheater at Sunnyside. It’s a beautiful place, a very miniature Hollywood Bowl with a stage large enough for a small orchestra, backed and partially covered by a shell that really is in the shape of a shell and that, for some reason, has always reminded me of a giant night-light. There are no seats except a few benches in front of the stage, but most of the audience bring blankets or beach towels and sit on the grassy embankment. The beach towels are more comfortable.