On the drive back from the prison, between long stretches of silence, we dissect Joe’s accidental admission and pore over our theories of both crimes. Grace is the only true link between the two, but the issue of the insulin remains. The coroner didn’t find any marks on Natalie. Could we really be looking at two entirely independent murders, linked by my grandmother’s book? Or someone we know who used Seaview’s infamous dead queen as cover?

I’m not sure where else to go, who else to talk to. I’ve royally screwed myself with everyone in this town, and I’m no closer to a real answer.

As much as I don’t want to go to the dance tonight, show my face at school, Ben insists. He drops me off at home with less than an hour for both of us to get ready.

Maura nearly tackles me as I come in the front door.

“There you are! I was worried. Were you with Benjamin? Oh, that’s adorable. All is forgiven. Come on, I have something for you,” Maura offers as preamble. I follow her into the living room, inquire as to how the funeral went.

“It was a mix of somber and uncomfortable, what with the sheriff and his deputies hovering over the mayor the whole time,” she answers breezily. “I left early to visit Suzanne in the hospital.”

“How is she?”

“Still in the ICU, I’m afraid, but on the mend.” Maura sweeps ahead of me to grab something. “Oh, don’t peek!” she shrieks.

Eyes closed, I rehearse what I’m itching to say about my visit to Joe. Questions I have about him and her.

But when she commands me to open my eyes, she awkwardly produces a hanger from behind her back and I forget what I meant to say. On it is a showstopper of a dress. Faded seventies film stock did the soft and sumptuous periwinkle no favors. The cut is sultry fairy tale: a plunging neckline, a belted waist, and a pretty cascade of chiffon for the skirt.

“I had Mama special-order a replica of Liz Taylor’s Oscar dress that year. Cost a mint, so you bet I saved it.”

“You want me to wear it?”

“Of course! You deserve to look like a million bucks tonight. Have your moment. Unfortunately, I couldn’t get your mother into it. She insisted on a midnineties slinky Kate Moss thing in a ghastly sateen green. Terribly unflattering. But in this, you’ll look like a princess.”

She holds it up against me, preens. “Surely it will fit. Go! Put it on.”