His eyes locked mine. Quietly, I said, “Don’t ask again.”

He nodded at the ground. Cade glared at me over the hood of the car. “If there’s anything you need,” I said quickly, “Krissy and I can move over there, whatever.”

He put his hand on my shoulder. “It’s all right. Roland’s called my sister—”

“Let’s go,” Cade snapped. Henry Cantwell disappeared into the car and was driven away.

Six

SIX

That night Kris Ann and I put on evening clothes and drove to the country club.

I’d come home to find all the lights on and the telephone off the hook, and no one waiting. No one answered when I called for Kris Ann. I went quickly up the stairs, nerves taut for a long half minute until I heard the shower. I called out, and in the moment of relief when Kris Ann answered knew how frightened I had been. I went downstairs to fix two drinks, and waited.

She didn’t come. For a while I watched the ice melt in her drink, then drifted to the porch. It was dark and there were cricket sounds and the whir of a moth near the gaslight, but all I saw was Lydia Cantwell’s murdered face, and Henry’s as it fell into his hands.

“Are you all right?”

Kris Ann stood near the gaslight in a silk caftan, beautiful without makeup, the shock in her face now become something sadder.

“I was thinking about Henry.”

She nodded. “Daddy said the police were such bastards.”

“Only when he gave them an engraved invitation.” She watched me carefully, in silence. “So he called,” I added.

“I called him, to see if I should stay with Henry. His sister’s flying in. So I said I’d at least bring a casserole.”

“I’ll drive you.”

“It’s still baking.” She walked to the end of the porch, staring out. I went to stand next to her.

“There’s a drink on the coffee table.”

“No. Thank you.”

I hesitated, then asked, “Why is the phone off?”

“Reporters kept calling.”

“I might have needed to reach you.”

“It didn’t matter. They kept wanting to know things …”

I touched her shoulder. She flinched, turning suddenly. “I want to go out,” she said.

“Out? Where?”

She looked down. “The club.”

“Jesus Christ—”

“Please.” Her words rushed forth. “Just for an hour. It’s a benefit Lydia put together for the symphony and what with it already planned they’ve decided she’d want it to go on. You know I’d rather be with Henry but here we are and they need money and dammit I don’t want to sit in this empty house feeling sad and afraid instead of seeing friends and at least trying to cope—”

“Sounds perfect,” I cut in. “Maybe Henry would like a ride.”

She recoiled as though struck. I reached out. “I’m sorry …”