“Sort of. You’re calling about that puppeteer, right? Well, I just found out that she’ll be here in the middle of July. And,” she said triumphantly, “I have her e-mail address. I’ll send it on to you right now. Hang on . . . there!”

I glanced at my computer and saw my unread e-mail count go up by one. “That’s great. Thanks so much.”

“No problem. I was taking the garbage out just now and saw my neighbor. Easy to ask; the hard part was remembering to ask in the first place.” She laughed. “My mom says that’s going to get worse as I get older, which doesn’t bode well, because I’m already memory challenged.”

“Huh. Your mom’s name isn’t Sally is it? Because my mom says the same thing.”

Melinda laughed again. “Lynn. But maybe we’re distant cousins.”

And that was the opportunity I’d been hoping to have. “Speaking of cousins, how’s Sylvia doing? I saw her the other day and she seemed okay, but it’s hard to tell.”

“Good days and bad days. I know she’s not sleeping well.” Melinda sighed. “I wish the police would find whoever killed Pug. It’s hard on her to have so many questions. And it’s scary, because we still don’t know why Pug was killed.”

“How much other family support does she have up here?” I asked. “Didn’t you say there’s a nephew? Charles, was it?”

“Charles to some, Charlie to us,” she said. “I know I’m snotty about him, because he’s way too busy with his career and his beautiful wife and the sporting events of his young perfect children to come up here to give his aunt Sylvia a hug.”

I heard a “but” coming.

“But . . .” She took a deep breath. “Remember when we talked the other day? I was saying that Charlie and his wife wanted to make all these changes to the cottage?”

“Sure. Kitchen. Bathroom. Glass porch.”

“That’s it. I thought he was making plans for when he got the cottage. Only it turns out he was also talking about the plans Pug and Sylvia have for the place. They were all on the same page. Going to split the cost, even.”

Melinda went on, and I mostly listened, but I also mentally rearranged my suspect list, because Charlie Seller had no reason to kill Pug.

The list was down to two names.

*   *   *

Talking about Charlie Seller and his aunt Sylvia and his uncle Pug made me think about my aunt Frances, so I stopped at her house on my way home. She and Otto were in the kitchen, cooking together in a way that made me think of choreographed dance moves.