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said, pushing the door open. "Come on, She led the way inside the house. She wasn't going
to admit it to Millie, and certainly not to Edna, but there
was a growing unease in the pit of her stomach. She reasoned that it was a natural response, though. They were
alone, uninvited, in a dark, quiet house where a woman
had died recently. Nevertheless, the hair on the back of
her neck stood up, goading her imagination to believe
that evil lurked behind every shadow.
    "Shouldn't we turn on some lights, or at least open
some of the blinds to let in more light?" Edna whispered. The morning sunlight struggled in vain to cut
through the barrier of the closed window blinds. There
was just enough light to enhance the feeling of a deserted house breathing sorrow and misfortune.
    "I don't think that's a good idea," Millie said. "We
don't want to advertise what we're doing. You know, I
didn't think of this at first, but they may even have police patrolling this area to keep an eye on Sam. And
would you stop whispering, for goodness' sake?"
    "Oh," Edna grimaced. "I didn't even know I was."
    "You may be right, Millie. Regardless, we don't want
to take a chance on getting caught in here. I think
there's enough light to see by," Trish whispered, peering through the shadows. Then she shook her head.
"Geez," she said in a normal voice. "You've got me doing
it, too.
    "It is kind of creepy, isn't it?"
    Trish shot her an exasperated look. "Hush, Millie.
We don't need any theatrics right now." They were still
standing in the kitchen, almost huddled together. There
wasn't any sign of their late-night meeting. The cups
must have been washed and put away, the table wiped clean. Claire wouldn't leave a mess, even though she
knew there wasn't anybody who would notice. The
faint smell of lemon oil was achingly familiar.

    Trish sighed deeply. She would have to take the lead.
This had been her brainstorm, after all, but that eerie
feeling persisted, making her wonder if maybe her
mouth had overridden her common sense last night. She
couldn't back out now, though. She'd never hear the end
of it. Besides, Sam needed their help.
    "What are we looking for, anyway?"
    "To be quite honest, I'm not sure, Millie. I think, going by Claire's explanation of what happened to Susan
that morning, we should try to recreate what happened.
Maybe we'll get some sort of idea about what the police are thinking."
    "Fine. Which one of us is going to play Susan?" Millie asked in a saucy tone.
    Now, there was a dare if Trish had ever heard one.
Squaring her shoulders, she said with false bravado, "I
will. I'm more her size, anyway."
    "Susan wasn't chubby."
    "Ha ha, that's very funny. Come on, let's go upstairs."
With Trish in front, they walked single file past the dining room with the elegant cherrywood furniture and
into the front foyer where the stairs began. There were
no windows in this area to let in even a sliver of light.
Trish stopped, took a deep, calming breath, and said over
her shoulder, "Edna, Millie, be very careful. It's impossible to see a thing. Let's hold hands and walk up very,
very slowly, one step at a time."
    "Trish," Edna said in a small voice, "why don't we
come back tomorrow and bring a flashlight?"
    Uh-uh, there was no way that Trish was coming back into this house without Sam or Claire. But, her common
sense nudged at her: what if Millie or Edna got hurt during this little investigative venture? She'd never forgive
herself. Running a hand through her hair, she sighed,
ready to call it quits for the day when Millie spoke up.
"Girls, we can do this. We've come this far, and all we
have to do is look around the bathroom. Let's just get it
over with" Her voice was tinged with excitement. Trish
couldn't help but admire her spunk, but she still wondered
if it was the right decision. Just because she personally
wanted this over with didn't mean it was a smart idea.

    "Edna, what do you think?" Trish asked, giving her