“Yes,” he said. “Have you lived in this house a long time?”

She raised her chin a little as if to indicate she had an idea why he was here. “Forty years, why?”

“I’m researching a tragic part of Eternity’s history.”

He let that register, waiting for her reaction.

“You’re talking about the Tullock murders.”

“I am.” He nodded to the bungalow. “I understand that one of the killers lived in that house beside yours. Did you know her family?”

Looking toward the bungalow, cupping her hand to her cheek, she blinked several times as if something long buried had been unearthed. Tears stood in her eyes and she nodded slowly. “Yes, I knew them.”

“Would you talk to me for the book I’m writing?”

Turning his card over in her hand, she studied Ben’s face for a moment before deciding.

“Show me your driver’s license,” she said. “So I can see if you are who you say you are.”

Ben reached for his wallet and she studied his California license, his photo, reading his address like a traffic cop. “Can’t be too sure, you know.” She gave it back to him. “Would you like some coffee?”

Her name was Hedda Murdoch. Her house was done up great-grandmother style, doilies under everything, plastic on much of the furniture, the faint smells of soap, cedar and mothballs. Shelves and tabletops were shrines to her family, holding framed photos: a daughter in Chicago, son in Toronto, grandchildren and great-grandchildren. Hedda’s husband, Larry, a plumber, had passed away twenty years ago.

“The Mitchells started off as a happy family.” Hedda set down two mugs of coffee.

The Mitchells.

Ben made a note that it was Marie Mitchell who’d lived next door and nodded for Hedda to continue.

“Ned operated a tow truck business. Flo was a nice girl, worked part-time here and there but mostly stayed home with the kids. Then their little boy, Pike, died when he was around six.”

“How?”

“Choked on an apple. His sister, Marie, was the only one with him when he died. There were rumors.”

“What rumors?”

“That Marie killed him because she was jealous.”

“What do you think?”

Hedda shook her head. “I don’t know. Police called it an accident.” She looked off. “Marie was a quiet girl, smart but lonely. Like the other two, Nikki and Janie. The three of them used to be up to no good, shoplifting at the mall or sitting up all night in Ned’s RV in the driveway there. One of them babysat for the Tullocks—that’s how it started.”

Ben nodded as he took notes.

“Most everyone liked Roy Tullock, a rich but kind man. His wife was another story, stuck-up, like she felt she belonged in New York, not Eternity. But I’m not saying they deserved what happened. Lord no.”

Hedda shook her head, remembering.