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noticed Kemper didn’t seem to think too much of Jeremiah Tansey,” Ellis said. “I wonder if he had anything to do with all this.”
    “Nettie seems to think he runs around with that rough bunch at the Red Horse,” I said, “but that doesn’t mean he’s a murderer.”
    “Hmm … I wonder if his dad knows he hangs around out there. Preacher Dave is as straitlaced as they come—or seems to be. I’ve never met Louella, though. Wonder what his wife’s like.”
    “I don’t know,” I said, “but I’ll soon find out. Grayson has ordered one of those huge Christmas baskets from that specialty shop over in Fort Mill and I told him I’d pick it up tomorrow and deliver it to the Tanseys. Says he feels kind of guilty because he hasn’t done anything for them since they’ve been out there at
    Willowbrook.”
    “You’re going to The Peach Stand? Wait up a minute, will you?” Ellis hurried away and returned with several bills that she stuffed into my hand. “How about bringing me a couple of jars of peach pickles and some blackberry jam?” She hesitated while I shoved the money into my purse. “You’re not nervous about going out to Willowbrook again, are you? I’d go with you but Susan and I are shopping for the new baby tomorrow.”
    Ellis’s daughter was expecting a boy after Christmas and Ellis’s husband Bennett had already bought enough sports equipment to furnish a gym.
    “Actually I’m kind of curious to see what Louella’s like,” I said. “Besides, Augusta’s going with me.”
    “She was with us the other day when we found that body, too,” Ellis reminded me. “You be careful out there, Lucy Nan.”

    The Green Cottage sat about a quarter of a mile from the plantation house at the end of a long gravel road in a grove of oak trees that had been huge even when I was a child. In the pasture across the road reddish-brown and white cattle grazed, and beyond that a hill of new pine saplings showed green against the brown December landscape. A couple of Herefords licking a salt block looked at us briefly through the barbed-wire fence as we turned into the drive. “Have you noticed how cows always look bored?” I said.
    Augusta laughed. “Wouldn’t you be?”
    A rambling pyracantha bush stretched arms full of fiery orange berries against the pale yellow walls of the house and browning chrysanthemums, once purple, tumbled against the doorstep. Someone—Louella, I presumed—had hung a wreath of gold-sprayed cotton bolls on the front door. I had seen some like it earlier at the craft fair at the Baptist Church.
    Preacher Dave himself met me at the door. He was a tall man with thinning hair and stooped shoulders. Keen blue eyes smiled at me from a weathered face. “Come in, come in!” Accepting the basket, he stepped aside to usher me in front of him. “And excuse the coveralls, please. Just got through waxing floors over at the church and haven’t had time to change.”
    “That’s quite all right … I don’t mean to stay …” I found myself seated in a comfortable overstuffed chair, the arms and back of which were protected with crocheted doilies. “My cousin Grayson asked me to drop this by to thank you for looking after the property. He plans to get up here himself soon after the holidays but wanted to wish you and your family a merry Christmas.”
    Preacher Dave set the large basket on the floor. “My goodness, this looks wonderful, but it isn’t necessary …” His voice trailed as he examined the contents of ham, cheese, jams, and pickles. “Louella! Come here, honey, and see what Santa Claus brought us!”
    “Are those spiced peaches? My favorites! What a nice surprise!” At first glance Louella Tansey seemed to be all of one color—sort of a faded tan. Her thin brownish hair was pulled back in what would’ve been a bun if there had been enough of it and her eyes, behind bifocals, seemed to take on the tone of the beige housedress she wore. The only bright color, I