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right. We win.’ ”
    That was odd. “Who did she mail it to?”
    Heather shrugged. “It went to Phoenix, but I didn’t pay attention to the name. I showed it to Alan, though. Maybe he remembers.”
    A gust of wind burst through the house, and a door slammed shut. Lucy ran to the foyer, and saw Patrick and the other two men covered with snow, their faces red. “That was miserable,” Alan said. Lucy didn’t know if he was talking about the weather or moving Vanessa’s dead body to the root cellar by the side of the house.
    “Is it locked?” Lucy asked.
    “No bears will get into that place,” Patrick assured her and showed her the key to the padlock. He pocketed it, then took off his jacket and hung it on a rack near the door.
    “Alan,” Heather said, “do you remember that postcard Vanessa asked us to mail?”
    “Of course.”
    “Who did she mail it to?”
    “Nelson Russell.”
    Heather said, “There you go,” she said to Lucy. “Why do you want to know?”
    Lucy shrugged. “Just curious.” She glanced at Patrick, nonverbally telling him she’d clue him in later. “Patrick, Trevor is drinking heavily. You might want to talk to him now.”
    “I’m bringing him this food—” Heather began.
    Lucy took the plate. “I’ll take it for you.”
    “I am frozen solid,” Alan said to his wife. “Let’s go upstairs.”
    Lucy followed Patrick into the library. Kyle joined them. Angie sat with Trevor, holding his hand while he sobbed. The room reeked of scotch. Angie looked to be at her wit’s end.
    Lucy said to Kyle, “We’ll relieve Angie. She needs a break. You two should get some food and relax. It’s going to be a long night.”
    “Good idea,” Kyle said, escorting his wife from the room.
    Patrick shut and locked the door. He sat down across from Trevor. “I’m sorry for your loss, Trevor.”
    “Two years. We waited two years to get married. Two wasted years.”
    “I know this is difficult. But—”
    “We were both married before. But her ex-husband was an asshole and my ex-wife was just nuts. That we met up again after all those years—”
    “Again?” Lucy asked.
    “We dated back in high school, after my family moved to Phoenix from California. Vanessa and Nelson—her brother—became my closest friends. Then we went to different colleges, got married, all those things that people do. I always loved Vanessa, and when my divorce was final I moved back to Phoenix and we started seeing each other again. For two years. Taking it slow, because we wanted to make sure—” He coughed to cover up his distress.
    “You come from a wealthy family?”
    “We both do. Vanessa’s dad was in the construction business. He always did well, but in the eighties his business took off. He retired ten years ago, left it to Vanessa and her brother. They’ve done even better. She’s so smart.” He put his hand to his mouth. “She was. She was so smart. She wouldn’t kill herself. She loved life. Everything about it.”
    “We don’t know that she killed herself,” Patrick said. Both he and Lucy were closely watching Trevor’s reaction. But his grief seemed genuine.
    “She didn’t,” he said as if Patrick’s statement needed additional emphasis.
    “Was she on any medication?”
    Lucy hadn’t found any other prescriptions in the Marshes’ room other than the Seconal.
    “No.”
    “But she took sleeping pills.”
    “Sometimes, but only when we travel because she doesn’t like sleeping in strange beds. She took one last night because she couldn’t sleep, but that’s it.”
    “Was she acting depressed lately? Did she get any bad news?”
    Trevor shook his head.
    “And your relationship was good?”
    “Yes! We just got married!” He wiped his nose with the back of his hand. “I love her so much.”
    He reached for his scotch and saw it was empty. He stood and grabbed the arm of the couch for support.
    “Maybe you should slow down,” Patrick cautioned.
    “Leave me alone. Just leave me