Our dog Woofer's igloo doghouse is partly hidden by shrubbery. But only partly. I know it's big, and that a small family of Eskimos would fit right in, but Woofer's getting old. When it's snowing or raining, I like to think of him snuggled up in his igloo.

I sipped my tea and looked out at my peaceful yard. I thought about lunch, about Meg Bryan who had seemed to enjoy herself and then, an hour later, had been dead.

"Heights make me nervous." Wasn't that what she had said? "Heights make me nervous." Did they make her nervous because she felt the urge to jump? I'd heard of that.

Woofer came from his igloo, walked over to the peach tree, and hiked his leg. I tapped on the window, and he came to the door to be let in.

"Bernard Baruch!" Fred yelled at the television. "It's Bernard Baruch, you dummies."

I opened the door for Woofer, let him in, and gave him a dog biscuit.

Or someone could have pushed her. I scraped the dishes and began to stack them in the dishwasher. Someone like Judge Haskins, who wanted what was on her computer. He knew she had left it with us. Probably knew she was writing a new program. Maybe that was it. Push her out of the window, grab the computer, and make a mint. Like the guy who started Apple. Not that he had thrown anybody out of a window, but he sure had made a mint. And wasn't it ironic that Meg, who was working on Windows, had jumped out of one. I put the detergent in and started the dishwasher, and ground the scraps in the disposal with such a racket that Woofer loped into the

den leaving a definite smell of dog behind him.

A knock at the back door startled me. I looked up and saw Mary Alice.

"Tell Fred I knocked," she said when I opened the door.

"Sister knocked, Fred," I called. He's always complaining that she barges in without knocking.

He came and stood in the den door holding his hands to his chest. "I'm not sure I can take the shock."

"Smart-ass." Mary Alice came in carrying a large tote bag. She put it down on the kitchen table with a clunk. "Tapes," she said. "Of the wedding. I thought we'd watch them and cheer up some. This day has been hell, Fred, pure hell for Patricia Anne and I."

"Me," I said.

Mary Alice turned and looked at me, puzzled. "Didn't I say you?"

"You said 'for Patricia Anne and I.' But it's Patricia Anne and me. For me. Objective case."

Mary Alice's eyes narrowed. "Stick it up your textbook, English teacher."

And Fred laughed. The traitor. Mary Alice smiled at him appreciatively.

"Did Patricia Anne tell you everything that happened today?" she asked him.

"She told me enough to curl my hair."

Mary Alice looked at his head. "I assume you're being facetious."