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my arm. It was Michelle, looking solicitous. “We’re all concerned about Connie, Gillian,” she said in the same deliberate speech that her twin used. “She’s not very strong, and these fantasies she’s having about murder are just making things worse. It would help if you didn’t encourage her.”
    Hello, Michelle . “Of course. I understand. But Connie seems to be handling it fairly well.”
    She smiled, a little. “It’s the tranquilizer that’s doing the handling, I’m afraid.”
    â€œShe’s on tranquilizers? I wondered if she’d taken something.”
    â€œIt’s all right,” Tom said. “I prescribed them.”
    Michelle said, “Gillian, we need to sit down and have a good long talk. So many years … we have a lot to catch up on. Why don’t you come stay with us tonight?”
    â€œBut Connie—”
    â€œAnnette is staying with Connie tonight,” Michelle interposed silkily. “She won’t be alone, if that’s what you’re thinking about.”
    â€œWell, yes, that was—”
    â€œDon’t worry, Gillian. We’re not going to leave her by herself.”
    â€œIn that case, I’ll be glad to come. Thank you.”
    Michelle murmured something and slipped away. “That was smooth,” Tom said, one eyebrow cocked. “As usual.”
    I looked past his shoulder and saw Michelle whispering to her twin; Annette nodded once in response. “Yes, it was smooth,” I replied. “They don’t want to leave me alone with Connie.”
    Tom shot me a quick look. “You picked up on that, did you? Well, well. Does it begin to feel familiar?”
    Being manipulated , he meant. And yes, it was beginning to feel familiar. I’d almost managed to forget how good the Deckers were at arranging everything exactly the way they wanted it.
    Everything.

4
    The Kurlands lived in Sherborn, so for the second time that day I got into the back seat of someone else’s car for a ride I didn’t want to take. Michelle had tossed off her hat before climbing in—and yes, her hair had the same short crop as her twin’s. Joel was quick to shed necktie and suit jacket before getting in the back with me. Michelle drove because Rob said his eyes were hurting; I asked if he’d been ill.
    He swiveled around to look at me. “No,” he answered in his raspy voice. “Why?”
    I shrugged. “You look so thin, Rob.”
    He gave a mirthless laugh. “We’ve all lost weight these last few months. Even Joel.” Of course they had; I should have known. I looked at the boy next to me.
    He favored me with a lopsided grin. “You aren’t going to start lecturing me on how I should eat more, are you, Aunt Gillian?”
    â€œI wouldn’t dream of it,” I assured him earnestly.
    â€œFantastic!” he grinned. “Everybody else at the funeral did, all those out-of-state relatives. The Newport people were the worst, especially Aunt Elizabeth. Mom, is she really my aunt?”
    â€œShe’s your great-aunt by marriage,” Michelle said over her shoulder. “Elizabeth is a bit of a fussbudget, but she was just concerned about you.”
    â€œYeah, I know. Well, it’s all over now, so everybody’ll start eating again anyway.”
    â€œJoel,” his mother and father said together. He fell silent.
    Uh-oh—why did they shut him up? What had Joel been on the brink of saying that his parents didn’t want me to hear? I tried to meet Michelle’s eyes in the rearview mirror but she wouldn’t look up.
    When the last of the postfuneral callers had left the house on Mt. Vernon Street, I’d gone to tell Connie I’d be staying with the Kurlands that night. She already knew; Annette had explained. For a woman who less than twenty-four hours earlier had been frantic for me to come to Boston, Connie now seemed