In my absence, someone had drained off my entire cup of wine. I tossed the empty plastic in a trash can. As I went into the hall, I glanced into the bedroom Pudgie must have occupied. There was a single bed, covered with a plain spread, the blanket and pillow stacked together at the foot. The room had all the cozy charm of a jail cell. There were no curtains at the window, and the plain white shade had been pulled down halfway. No pictures, no personal possessions.

The closet door stood open, revealing an empty hanging rod. Felicia must have swept through, boxing up everything he owned, and then called the Goodwill. I felt a pang of disappointment. Given my curious nature, I'd hoped for the opportunity to search his things. I wasn't even sure what I thought I'd find – some sense of who he was, some feeling for why he'd died. I didn't imagine he'd left a note about his final rendezvous, but there might have been a hint of what he'd meant to do in life.

"Bleak," someone said. I turned. Justine was standing to my left, making the same sad assessment of the room that I had. I saw her gaze linger on my jacket. "What."

"Nothing. I used to have a jacket just like that."

"Really? I've had this old thing for years." I felt a spark of fear and a second lie sprung to my lips. "Hey, what was Cornell up to Friday night? I thought I saw him downtown about ten."

She gave me a little smile of negation and bafflement. "He was home with the kids. I was out doing stuff for church."

"He was home alone?"

"Not at all. The kids were there. I told you that."

"Well, that's odd. You sure he didn't pop out to get a video? I could have sworn it was him."

"It couldn't have been. I went out at nine after the girls were in bed. He was folding laundry when I left and sacked out on the couch when I got home at midnight."

"The church is open that late?"

"I wasn't at the church. I was over at Adele's, working on a mailing. That's why he ended up baby-sitting."

"I thought they did the mailing Saturday at Edna's."

"They finished it then. We started Friday night."

I didn't point out that Cornell could have driven to Creosote and back in an hour, with plenty of time left for a stop at the Tuley-Belle to deliver forty whacks to Pudgie's head. She could have done it, too.

Three hours would have been more than adequate. I tried to remember what Adele had said when she paid her husband's parking citation. He'd been ticketed Friday night because he was late for a movie, but I couldn't remember if she said she'd been with him or not. Changing the subject, I said, "You want some wine? I'm out. I'll be happy to bring you some."