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start soon. I realized I hadn’t eaten since lunch yesterday. Maybe Amy would be up to a stop at Tuscany Garden before we left town to head home.
    â€œNot a word. Of course I didn’t see His Honor before I left today, so I’ll see what I can find out tomorrow. You have to open the shop tomorrow, don’t you?”
    I thought about my crowded Tuesday. I had to order supplies and new books to get the shop ready for the weekend. How would I run the shop, plan a funeral, and figure out who killed my friend? Maybe I could find an extra eight hours a day by not sleeping.
    â€œGood afternoon. I’m happy you could all join us.” Doc Ames addressed the small crowd of seven in his office. “Jimmy Marcum”—he nodded toward the tall man at the front—“has asked for the will to be read before the funeral as a final request from Miss Emily. Although this is an unusual request, it’s not totally without precedent. Detective King has asked to sit in on the reading. Jimmy?”
    The tall man stood by Doc Ames’s desk. “Thanks for allowing us to use your chapel, Fred.” He nodded to Doc Ames. I’d never heard anyone call Doc Ames Fred before. “I guess you know why we are all here.”
    Jimmy Marcum pulled out a file from a briefcase sitting on Doc Ames’s desk. He scanned the people gathered. I felt his glance fall on me. “Let’s introduce ourselves. Miss Gardner? Will you start?”
    â€œI’m Jill Gardner. I run Coffee, Books, and More over in South Cove. Miss Emily and I were friends.” I turned toward Amy and sat back in my chair, passing her the invisible introduction torch.
    Amy didn’t stand. “I’m Amy Newman, South Cove’s city developer and Jill’s friend.” She turned toward the redheaded woman in the pew across the aisle.
    â€œI’m Sabrina Jones and this is my husband, George.” She pointed to the slender man perched next to her. “He’s Miss Emily’s nephew and only living relative.”
    Sabrina glared at me. “I don’t know why we are even having this hearing. We should get all her stuff.”
    â€œAs I’ve told you, this isn’t a hearing. It’s the reading of the will, not a court case. These are Miss Emily’s final wishes and the disposition of her estate.” The attorney took back control of the room. “Of course, everyone knows Detective King and Doc Ames. Now, if we are ready?” He glared across the room that had suddenly gone quiet.
    I peeked over at the unknown George, Miss Emily’s nephew. I tried to remember if Miss Emily had ever talked about a nephew. Nothing came to mind. Then I realized Jimmy Marcum had already started talking and I was traipsing down memory lane.
    â€œ. . . my last will and testament. To my nephew, George Jones, my only living relative and heir, I leave the family Bible and a photo album with our family history, which is in Mr. Marcum’s care so George and Sabrina don’t have to be burdened with the long twenty-mile drive to South Cove after the reading of the will. Since you were unable to visit me during my lifetime, I’m sure you won’t mind staying the hell out of my house now that I’m gone.”
    Jimmy Marcum stopped reading and pulled a large Bible from his briefcase and a blue picture album. He walked over to George and handed him the books. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
    I wasn’t sure if Jimmy referenced George losing Miss Emily or her earthly treasures.
    Sabrina glared at Jimmy Marcum. “Two old books? That’s it? She didn’t have anything else? No money, no stocks? What about the house?” Sabrina’s voice got louder as she listed off the items George wasn’t getting.
    Jimmy returned to the front. “Please, let me continue. To my friend, Jill Gardner, first, I leave you my thanks. You befriended a lonely old woman who didn’t have