They would be first to feast when the time came.

The business with the Hinkley woman was messy but unavoidable. First and foremost, the woman was a magpie, particularly whilst in her cups. Constantly attempting to sow seeds of discord among the people, chattering to anyone who'd give her a moment's pause.

Secondly, she was a slut—a sin perhaps less forgivable than the first. Tempting Martin with her wickedness had driven the final nail in her coffin.

Even worse than this was the fact that she had begun to see. She had spotted the cracks in the façade, the spackle over the grit and grime of reality.

Geraldine had been first to see the Hinkley woman had noticed things were not quite what they appeared to be. That Barrows Bay was not all cheers and charity, love thy neighbor, smiles and sunshine.

Somehow, Nadine Hinkley had seen beyond the glammer. Though no one in their right mind would ever have believed her, it was not an ideal situation for Ruby and the others.

When a blemish was pointed out it would soon become all a person could see. They would seek out more imperfections. Eventually, they might realize the whole thing was rotten right to its very core.

The woman couldn't be allowed to live. Not here or anywhere.

Mavis had been more than eager to handle the job. She'd always been a vengeful creature. Ruby knew what her sister had done all those years ago, while she'd been incapacitated, locked up in that endless hell of lily-white walls.

The not-so-secret deed lay between them now, festering like an open wound.

Neither woman dared speak of it. Ruby, humiliated by her own unforgivable indiscretion. Mavis, ashamed she hadn't finished the job.

Killing the Hinkley woman redeemed her.

Still, Ruby had overseen the assignment. While she and the others played their tricks, Ruby—with Ethel's assistance—projected her fetch into the backseat of Mavis's car. They had done it without Mavis's permission, projecting only a hint of the fetch so as not to be detected.

Both women knew Mavis Lynch didn't appreciate being spied on. She was an intensely private creature, her mind walled off to the others as often as she could manage. If she'd known Ruby had been with her, she would have overreacted.

As it turned out, Mavis hadn't required supervision. She'd performed quite impressively on her own. The deer had been Ethel's idea. Helen Birch suggested Mavis run the woman down with her Cadillac. Mavis balked at the thought. She treated the pink monster—which she called "Princess"—as if it were her only child.

Ruby wouldn't have allowed it, anyhow. She'd seen enough of Norma's crime shows to know better. It was all too easy these days to link vehicles with murders, particularly if the vehicle in question had been in a recent accident.

Employing the use of the animals was a masterstroke of Ethel's incredible gift for foresight. Mavis had always been better able to communicate with animals than people. Her many overfed, over-loved cats would attest to it, could they utter anything but mewls.