I looked in on Jack. He was in bed, propped up with pillows and scribbling on his legal pad.

“Hi,” he said, not even looking at me. “Everything all right?”

“Fine,” I said and went upstairs. I’d be far better off unmarried, I thought. For one thing, I wouldn’t be at the Caine farm.

And, for another, I wouldn’t have Duff. Would that be good? Pass on that. Was he home? Did it matter? Based on what had happened in the past, he could have been away and come in without my knowing it. Then suddenly I remembered that he was afraid of horses, had always been afraid of them. Franny could ride as well as I could, but we could never get Duff on a horse. As far as I knew, it was his one phobia.

Feeling somewhat better, I paused by his bedroom. There was no sound and seemed to be no light. Then the door opened and he looked out.

“Did you want something, Mama?” he asked.

“I was just wondering if you were in bed. Did you go out tonight?”

“No, Mama, did you?”

“Yes, I went to see the Webers and Mrs. Reddy. I wanted to express my sympathy.”

“I hope you expressed mine too.” He seemed completely sincere.

“I didn’t, but you can phone them if you like.” Then something compelled me to say, “I wonder if the Sheriff knows about what happened between you and Stephanie.”

“You didn’t tell the deputies?” He was shaken now.

“No, but someone else may have. Stephanie could’ve mentioned it to someone in her family.”

“Well, they wouldn’t—”

“How do you know they wouldn’t?”

“They would realize I couldn’t help—” He backed into his room and tried to close the door.

“What couldn’t you help, Duff?” I put my foot in the doorway. “Did you see Stephanie last night, Duff? You know I won’t tell anyone. Did you see her and have an argument with her?”

There was a long silence and then he whispered, “I don’t know, Mother. I just don’t remember.” He kicked at my foot until I pulled it away and then he closed the door.

“Duff,” I called as softly as I could. “Duff, are you sure you weren’t outside a little while ago.”

He didn’t answer. After a moment or two I went into my bedroom. Franny was in bed studying her geography.

“Feeling better?” she asked brightly. “No,” she decided, “you don’t look better.”

“After I get some sleep I’ll be all right,” I said. I sat on the edge of the bed, desperately afraid. I was sure now that I was going to be the next one in the house to die.

“I must say we get more sleep here in the country than we ever did at home. Couldn’t we get a TV set, Mother?”

“I suppose so. Ask your father.”