I was waiting for a car door to slam, footsteps on the path, the scratching of a key in the lock, but there was no sound. Were they waiting outside for me?

“Was he at the meeting, George?” I whispered.

He had only time to nod and then the door opened silently and Mrs. Reddy and Mrs. Weber were there. Both were dressed in black—coats, dresses and hats with veils.

“Mrs. Caine, how nice of you to come,” said Mrs. Reddy.

“I brought Stephanie’s things,” I said.

“Thank you. Did our George make you comfortable?” She was watching the boy.

“Very comfortable.” I hoped I was managing to control my nervousness. “I’m shocked and so sorry about what happened to Stephanie.”

Rose Weber acknowledged it with a jerk of her head and hurried out of the room. She was feeling something, it seemed.

“Stephanie was a willful girl, but dear to all of us just the same,” Mrs. Reddy announced. “How long have you been here, Mrs. Caine?”

“Only a couple of minutes.”

“We called your home from Ashland almost an hour ago and your daughter said you had left. You must have stopped somewhere else before you came here.”

“I did,” I lied. I couldn’t have been gone an hour. More like a half hour or at most forty-­five minutes.

“Did George show you the house while you waited?”

“No,” I said without looking at the boy. “What were you calling about, Mrs. Reddy?”

“Oh, Rose wanted to ask about Stephanie’s things and if the Sheriff’s men had been to see you.”

“Yes, they came to see us.” How could I have ever thought her cheerful looking? A little old Mrs. Santa Claus, I’d called her. This was a fat, evil-­looking woman staring at me.

“Asked you a lot of questions, I’ll bet. They did with us. We couldn’t tell them anything and I don’t suppose you could either.”

“Very little.”

“One thing they kept harping on was did Stephanie ever mention being afraid of anyone or anything? Did they ask you that too?”

“I don’t recall. What did you mean when you said Stephanie was willful?”

“Just that. She ran around with a wild crowd from over Ashland way.”

“She didn’t do any running around while she was with us. She seldom left the house. And the deputies mentioned some motorcyclists.”

“It wasn’t motorcyclists. It was some of that college crowd from Ashland that did it. They’re on the dope. Most likely Stephanie was too.”

“Ma!” Rose Weber had reentered the room.

“It’s hard to accept these things, Rose, but we must. Stephanie wouldn’t do as we told her, so she came to grief.”

“What did you want her to do?” I inquired.