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discreetly dispose of the leftovers.
    “You ladies come in and have a seat.” Lois gestured toward the living room. When we stepped in, it was if someone had hit the Mute button. We nodded politely into the silence.
    The news of Zac’s trip downtown had definitely made its way around the local grapevine. Mama always said, “Good news travels fast, but bad news travels faster,” and she was right again.
    A low-hum chorus of greetings floated in our direction, then mercifully, everyone went back to their quiet conversations. Lois motioned toward the chintz couch, and the gray-haired Llewellen sisters scooted closer together to make room for us. After we settled in, Lois perched on the arm of Marge’s overstuffed chair and patted her on the back. “Is there anything I can get for you?” She reminded me of an anxious lady-in-waiting.
    “No, thanks. I’m fine.” Marge smiled at us. “Elizabeth. Jenna. It’s good to see you. Theo’s on his way, Jenna. I know he’ll want to see you.” Marge’s eyes were red and swollen, but her abnormally high-pitched voice and pseudo-perky attitude suggested that the doctor had probably given her some pills to lessen the shock.
    “Marge, we’re so sorry to hear about Hank’s death. Lake View won’t be the same without him.”
    That was true. Mama always knew the right thing to say. If it had been left up to me, I probably wouldn’t have mentioned Hank. And if I had—well, let’s just say it’s a good thing I let Mama do the talking.
    Marge beamed. “Hank loved Lake View. The newspaper was his life.” Her smile froze, then melted into a frown. “Amelia used to say he should have married the Monitor instead of me.”
    Now there’s a thought. Since the wife is the most likely suspect, maybe the Monitor killed him.
    Valium was probably responsible for this emotional rollercoaster, but the wistful tone in her voice clutched at my heart. Hank had been a pain, but he’d been her pain.
    “Amelia. Humph ,” Lois muttered, looking like she’d taken a drink of curdled milk.
    Mama leaned forward and patted Marge’s hand. “Hank was lucky to have you, Marge. He loved you very much.”
    Suddenly, Marge plopped back against the chair. “He had a funny way of showing it sometimes.” Tears spilled onto her cheeks.
    A million questions flooded my mind, and I barely stopped them before they tumbled out of my mouth. Had Hank been abusive? Something beyond your garden-variety crankiness? I settled for a hopefully leading, “Oh?”
    Mama glared at me, and I could see she knew I was trying to launch a little investigation of my own. How do mothers do that?
    “Hank did love you, Marge,” Lois said soothingly.
    “Yes, I’m sure he did, but you know as well as I do, by the time the bridge club meets Monday they’ll be wondering if I murdered him.” Marge squeaked on the last word.
    The Llewellen sisters gasped and even Mama looked a little nonplussed. This visit had suddenly gone from obligatory to interesting.
    “No, they won’t!” Mama and Lois chorused.
    I opened my mouth to gently ask why they would think that, but before I could speak, Marge burst out, “Oh, yes, they will.” Her gaze darted from side to side, and she lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “You know how people talk.” She nodded to Mama. “Look at how the news spread about Zac being arrested.”
    “He wasn’t actually arrest—” Mama started.
    “Can you believe they took that poor child down to the police station? Isn’t that the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever heard? Why, they even came around here asking me all kinds of questions. Why didn’t I call and report Hank missing?” She shook her head and her tight curls sprang back and forth. “Why would I call? I never know what time Hank’s going to get home. Everybody knows how late he works when he’s got his mind on a story. Besides, Lois had one of those twenty-four-hour bugs. I couldn’t leave her alone, so I stayed with