She didn’t want to think it. She didn’t dare.

The Dahlias’ Monday evening card party—they almost always played hearts—was open to all the club members, but only seven or eight usually came. Voleen Johnson, Miss Rogers, and several others never played cards, while Aunt Hetty Little played only poker. Mildred Kilgore often played hearts, but she had phoned to say that she and Mr. Kilgore had been asked out to supper at the country club. Alice Ann Walker and Lucy Murphy, also regulars at the card party, had gone to a meeting of the quilting club. Myra May had to work the switchboard. So it would be just one table of four: Bessie, Verna, Lizzy, and Ophelia. And since the Magnolia Ladies were all otherwise occupied tonight, they could set up their game in the parlor.

It was beginning to get dark and Bessie—still resolutely refusing to think that dreadful thought about her father and Harold—turned on the porch light. Then she put a pitcher of iced tea and a china plate filled with lemon chess squares, along with glasses, dessert plates, forks, and napkins, on the cherry sideboard. She was getting out the deck of cards and paper and pencil for scoring when she heard a knock at the door and opened it to Liz and Verna. The three of them were just sitting down at the card table when the telephone rang. It was Ophelia, regretting that she couldn’t come because her daughter had a fever and her husband had to go to a town council meeting.

“So it will be just us three,” Bessie said, and took out the two of diamonds, so that the deck had just fifty-one cards. “I always think it’s more fun to play with four, but—”

“Actually,” Verna said, with a glance at Liz, “it’s just as well that Ophelia isn’t here. I don’t know how much playing we’re going to get done tonight.”

“Oh?” Bessie asked, shuffling the cards. The hostess always dealt the first hand. “Let’s see, now. Since it’s just the three of us, we each get seventeen cards. Isn’t that right? And pass three instead of four?” She started to deal, then paused and looked at Verna. “Why aren’t we going to get much playing done tonight?”

“Because there might be a ruckus across the street,” Liz said. “Along about dark, maybe.” She glanced at Bessie. “Would it be okay if I opened the parlor window? We want to be able to hear.”

“Maybe we’d better tell Bessie what this is all about,” Verna said. “So she won’t be surprised.”

Bessie put down the cards. “Okay,” she said expectantly. “What’s it about?”

“Frankie Diamond,” Liz and Verna said, practically in unison.

Bessie raised her eyebrows. “What about him? He’s on the train back to Chicago, isn’t he?”

“Maybe, maybe not,” Verna said. “We think maybe not.”

“We figure he’s not like the government revenue agents who let themselves be pushed around,” Liz said.

“He’s tough,” Verna said grimly. “He’s used to slugging it out with those Chicagoland gangsters. We think he might’ve jumped the train and come back. And if he was listening to Leona Ruth, he may know where to find the women. But it’s likely to be tonight. He won’t want to hang around here and risk getting collared again.”