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Shippee said with a pleasant smile. “She’s read all of your books. I’ve read a couple of them, though. Sam didn’t know that you’re a famous author.”
    “I don’t know about being famous,” I said, “but it’s nice of you to say so.”
    “Just wanted to make sure you guys met,” Sam said. “I’ve got to go now. I’m the designated driver for Clarence.”
    “Has he been drinking?” Mort asked, looking at his watch.
    “No, no. What I mean is I’m supposed to drive him somewhere. He doesn’t have his car here.”
    “I’ll come out with you. Maureen’s probably getting impatient. Says she wilts in the sun. Nice meeting you, Zach.”
    “Same here,” Zach said. He turned to me. “Our friend Sam there would make a great character for one your books,” he said. “He could be your lead character, the one who always manages to solve the crime before the cops do. I wish we could work that fast.”
    “You could,” I said, “if you had to meet my publisher’s deadlines.”
    He laughed.
    “May I ask why you came to Portia’s funeral?” I asked.
    He shrugged. “It’s a small town. The department likes to pay its respects.”
    “Does that mean you send a representative to everyone’s funeral? Given the average age of the residents of Foreverglades, I imagine you could spend a lot of time at memorial services.”
    He gave me a wry smile, but didn’t respond.
    “Would your presence here have anything to do with the results of the autopsy on Portia?” I asked.
    “There’s a little matter of privacy here, Mrs. Fletcher. I can’t very well discuss the deceased with you, especially not before I’ve spoken with her husband.”
    “I can be trusted not to reveal the results, but I agree. You need to notify Portia’s husband first.”
    “Appreciate your discretion.”
    “When will you give him the autopsy results?” He scratched his jaw where the beginnings of whiskers were evident, although it couldn’t have been more than four or five hours since he’d shaved. “I didn’t exactly say that’s what I was going to talk about with him, did I?”
    “No, but the police did release the body for the funeral, so you must have obtained whatever information you were looking for.”
    “Some of it, anyway,” he said. “I’m not really sure when I’ll talk to Mr. Shelby. I might not get ’round to it till tomorrow or the next day. We don’t want to be accused of being insensitive.”
    “I’ll have to check in with Clarence then, to ask when you’ve spoken with him.”
    “Good idea.” The chapel was empty and he pushed off the wall and started toward the door, indicating I should precede him. “Let’s go outside. You must be hot. This place is like an oven.”
    “Feels good, after the winter we’ve been having in Maine.”
    “A lot of the Northerners say that.”
    “I guess that’s why so many move to Florida.”
    “It’s really nice now, but you wouldn’t like it quite so much in the summer,” he said, opening the door for me. “Everybody stays indoors. Too hot and too humid.”
    “Ironic, isn’t it? We stay indoors in the winter and you stay indoors in the summer.”
    A lovely breeze greeted us as we stepped out onto the portico. The chapel was located halfway up a gentle rise with a clear view of the sparkling water. I took a deep breath and let it out. “Portia said she loved it here. I can see why. Had you ever met her?”
    “Um-hmm,” he said, suppressing a smile. “Your friend was a really feisty lady.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “I mean she wasn’t afraid to make waves. Always calling us on some infraction by the management. She must have lived with the contract under her pillow. Drove the guys down at the station house crazy. But she got that developer to bow down every once in a while. Course, now she can’t get in his way anymore.”
    “Are you hinting at something, Detective?”
    “Not at all. Just making an observation. I’ve got to run. It was nice