Neither woman seemed to think this was unusual information to elicit during an introduction. Mary Alice produced a small package of Kleenex from her pocket and said, "Here," handing one to Trinity. "I know right where I'm going to take you this afternoon. The Big, Bold, and Beautiful Shoppe. They have the most wonderful things for tall women."

"I have a headache," Trinity said.

"I'm sure you do. You just sit right down and I'll go get you some aspirin."

I held up the bottle.

"Oh, good." Mary Alice reached for it.

"Four," Trinity said.

"Are you sure, dear? It's not good for your stomach, you know. I've got some Tylenol if you'd rather have that."

"Four aspirin." Julia Child's voice.

"Sure." Mary Alice handed her the bottle of aspirin.

"Here's your Coke," I said.

Trinity sat down on the sofa beside me. The wicker squealed. Mary Alice sat facing us in a chair with cushions covered in a bright material, a white background splashed with big red poppies.

"Nice room," Trinity said. She took the aspirin one at a time, throwing her head back like a chicken as each tablet went down.

"Thank-you." Mary Alice dabbed afher eyes one last time. "Now, tell us what we can do to help. Patricia Anne and I are at your beck and call. Just tell us."

Trinity Buckalew took a long drink of Coke, hic-cuped, and put the glass on the coffee table. "I guess first I have to go identify the body. Where would it be?"

Mary Alice and I looked at each other blankly. The morgue? But Judge Haskins had said something about Ridout's, hadn't he?

"I'll call," Mary Alice said sweetly.

"And then I want to swear out a warrant for Bobby Haskins's arrest."

Mary Alice and I looked at each other again. "Trinity," she said. "I don't think it's that easy."

"Oh, I have proof. Right here." Trinity reached into her purse and pulled out a small manila envelope. "Right here," she repeated. She moved her Coke, dried the coffee table with her napkin, and pulled a sheet of paper from the envelope. "See?" she said, opening it.

Sister and I both got up and leaned over to look at it. It was a legal document of some kind that had xeroxed poorly.

"See?" she repeated. She pointed to the top of the page. "Look at that."

I pushed my bifocals up, but they were small help. "Does it say State of Georgia?" I asked.

"It says more than that. It says Bastard, State of Georgia. And you know who this was, girls?"

We both shook our heads. I pointed to the document. "Is that name Catherine?"

"You better believe it. Catherine Anne Taylor, mother of the bastard, Clifford Adams Taylor, who just happens to be the great great grandfather of one Judge Robert Haskins. These are bastardy papers, ladies," Trinity announced proudly.

Sister and I looked at each other blankly.

"I don't understand," I said.