When she came back to the living room to clear up the cups and saucers she looked pensive. “Wallace’s friend,” she muttered. “I never heard of him having a friend.”

“That doesn’t mean he couldn’t have one.” “Hmm.” Mom sat down on the sofa holding an empty cup in her hands. “It must be that sister of his bailing him out of trouble again. She won’t have him in the house yet she comes to his rescue.”

“Wallace knows a lot of people. He may look like a bag person, but he’s not stupid.”

“Yes, I know you’ve always had a soft spot for Wallace. And I’ve been sympathetic, too. But maybe you shouldn’t be too friendly for the time being.”.

Rose was horrified. “Mom, you’re as bad as Silver Henning. I thought you agreed with me. Wallace didn’t have anything to do with Nancy’s murder and you know it.”

“Well, we can’t really know. ..

“You’re acting just like they did in Salem,” Rose cried, feeling suddenly drained and vulnerable. “You’re picking on an innocent person out of fear.”

“Rosecleer, mind your mouth,” Mom said severely. She got up and took the cups into the kitchen.

Rose followed, bringing the coffeepot. “I’m sorry, it’s just that I hate to see people accusing someone like Wallace only because he’s different.”

“I know, dear. It’s admirable of you.”

“Thanks, Mom …” Rose started to give her a hug and was surprised when her mother wriggled out of reach.

“Do me a favor, Rosecleer,” she said, turning on the hot-water tap. “Don’t have any more dreams!”

Seven

Nancy’s funeral was private. After it was over, the atmosphere in Bethboro lifted, as if everything was going to be all right now. There were only eighteen shopping days until Christmas. Christmas was a way for everybody to forget about murder.

Grace and Rose made plans to shop at the mall. Bethboro was a small town, and the mall was part of it. Walk out on Beacon Street, cross the highway, and you were there. The neighborhood was a little crummy for a couple of blocks, known as the town’s tough section, where people hung out on dim front porches and sometimes shouted at you passing by. But now such incidents seemed silly to worry about.

Silver Henning’s police force was still visible. There was a lot of pressure on him to solve the murder, but Silver was positive it was a crime of opportunity — that somebody just passing through had somehow got Nancy into his car and driven off with her. He called a conference to tell Bethboro they had no need to worry.

“We’re talking about a stranger,” he said. “This is not a homegrown crime.”