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said.
    ‘At my expense!’ she said.
    ‘A joke is usually at someone’s expense. This time it was you,’ I said.
    Megan went to the counter and poured herself a cup of coffee. She got the cream out of the refrigerator, poured in half a cup, then added three Equals.
    ‘Like a little coffee with your sweet cream?’ I asked.
    ‘Gosh, Mom, you are just a barrel of laughs this morning, aren’t you?’ she said and, me being queen of sarcasm, I could tell she was trying out for the role of princess.
    Looking at my other two daughters, it was like they were watching a tennis match: heads going this way and that, following the play by play from the mother and daughter match in front of them.
    I took my coffee and wandered into the family room, turning on the TV and honing in on
The Today Show
. Five minutes of that, and there was a break for local news. It basically all went over my head until I heard the name ‘Driscoll.’ As in the hotel. As in the hotel Willis and I stayed at in Austin, where a dead body had been found.
    ‘… Driscoll Hotel. The identity of the man who fell or jumped from there Sunday morning has been verified as James Unger, thirty-nine, of Houston, Texas. He was a chemist at a laboratory in Houston that he owned with his wife, Elizabeth Unger. Mrs Unger was unavailable for comment.’
    ‘Huh,’ I said. I picked up the landline as I had no idea where my iPhone was, and called Willis. When he picked up, I said, ‘They identified that guy who fell off the garage roof at the Driscoll.’
    ‘Yeah? Who?’ he asked.
    ‘James Unger. He was a chemist from Houston. He and his wife owned a lab there.’
    ‘Well, what a shit,’ Willis said. ‘I mean, if he jumped. That’s a shitty thing to do to his wife. If he fell, then hell, what an awful thing to happen.’
    ‘Very well put, dear,’ I said, albeit a little sarcastically. ‘I think you’ve covered all the bases.’
    ‘Unless, of course, as Bess mentioned, he was murdered.’
    ‘Then what would the correct response be?’ I asked.
    ‘Quite like the “if he fell” response, with an added, “the assholes!” You know, for emphasis.’
    I sighed. ‘Are we terrible people?’ I asked.
    ‘Probably,’ he said. ‘Another call, babe, gotta go,’ and he hung up.

THREE
VERA’S STORY
TUESDAY
    W e arrived in our nation’s capital as it was turning midnight. The hotel had been notified that we were getting there pretty late, so they were ready for us. I know my place in this world, and I know God wouldn’t give me anything more than I can handle, but I figured He and I were gonna have to have a little talk about my hotel roommate. Yes, you guessed it: Rachael Donley, the separated alto who made googly eyes at Brother Joe. Since my friend and supposed roommate Gladys was down with the flu, and since Rachael didn’t have a roommate assigned, I got her.
    The room was real nice, with two queen-sized beds, a kitchenette, a table and four chairs, and a large, flat-screen TV. Willis and E.J. bought me one of them last year for Christmas, and I gotta say, going back to one of them regular TVs woulda been a burden. Not that I was gonna sit around our nation’s capital and watch TV. No way. I had a few things to say to the president, and I was gonna get in to see him if it hare-lipped Texas.
    So me and Rachael Donley got in our room and looked around. I wasn’t sure I could look at her because, well, I didn’t want to judge.
    ‘This is nice,’ she said.
    ‘Uh huh,’ I said.
    ‘Which bed do you want?’ she asked.
    ‘You choose,’ I said.
    ‘Do you want to be near the window? Or do you think it would be too cold?’ she asked.
    ‘What part of “you choose” do you not understand?’ I said, finally looking at her. She seemed a little taken aback by the question, and I felt a little bad. ‘You take the window,’ I said. ‘I
do
get cold at night.’
    ‘OK,’ she said, and threw her suitcase on the bed closest to the window. Then she