"I've been in town all my life. I guess I don't have much sense of adventure. My great-aunt died and left me just enough money to get the house paid off. I can survive without working if I watch my step." She paused and picked up a strand of two-toned hair, which she studied critically. "You can see I quit going to the beauty shop. Cheaper to color it myself, when I get around to it. I can't give these up," she said, gesturing with her cigarette. "I smoked so long I'm probably doomed, anyway. Might as well enjoy." She coughed once, loosening something deep in her chest. "What can I help you with? Pop says you're here about that girl got killed, what was it, twenty years ago?"

"Just about. Eighteen in August."

"You know what's interesting about her? She's got a grip on folks. Here she is dead all that time and she still has people out there wondering who she is and how to get her back where she belongs."

"And who killed her," I added. "Yeah, well good luck on that. You got your work cut out. Sit, sit, sit. Can I get you a beer?"

"I'm doing fine right now, thanks." I settled on one of the white wicker rockers, which creaked under my weight. "I can see where you'd want to spend the day out here, watching traffic go by. Nice."

"That's the thing about retirement. People keep asking me, don't you miss work? Well, no way, Jose. I could go the rest of my life and never leave this porch. I'm so busy as it is I can't figure out how I ever had time for a job. Between housework and errands, there's half the day gone right there."

"What else do you do?"

"Read. I work in the yard, play bridge with some gals I've known for years. How about you? You like the work you do?"

"I'm not that crazy about being stuck indoors, but the field work's fun."

"So now. What can I tell you that you don't already know?"

"One thing I was curious about. Gull Cove is thirty miles south. Seems like a long way to drive for work you could have found in town."

Roxanne coughed again, clearing her throat. As with other smokers I've known, her coughing was habitual and didn't seem to warrant a remark. "That's easy. I was diddling the owner. That's how I got hired." She laughed. "Seemed like a good idea at the time. He moved on to someone else and I got fired. Big surprise. My fault entirely. It's like Pop used to say, 'Don't shit in your own Post Toasties, Roxanne.'"

"Live and learn."

"You got that right. Anyway, I was working seven to three. This was summer and hotter than blue blazes, even with the breeze coming in off the ocean. You know the place at all?"

"Actually, I stopped off there on the drive up."