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I won’t restrain myself. Understand?”
    Vince came over and stood beside Skye.
    Mona’s features stiffened and she opened her mouth.
    Before she could speak Neal said, “Drop it, Mona.”
    “But, Neal.” Her voice sounded whiny and a drop of sweat ran down her temple. “It’s pretty bad when a person is threatened by her own niece on the day her mother dies.”
    Neal put his hand on her wrist, his fingers digging into the soft skin. “I said, drop it.”
    Skye looked at the people around the table and saw no sympathy for her aunt.
    Mona’s tone changed. “Darling, this has all been too much for me. I’m feeling faint. Could I have a drink?”
    Neal got up and went to the sink. He filled a glass of water and put it in front of Mona. When Mona didn’t immediately reach for it, he asked, “What’s wrong, sweetheart? Not the kind of drink you had in mind?”
     
    Conversation died after Mona’s outburst, lethargy seeming to take over. The sound of a car door slamming made them all look up. Knocking on the door startled them. No one ever knocked at Grandma’s.
    When everyone remained seated, Skye shrugged and went down the steps to see who was there. It was a little after ten-thirty at night, not a time many people in Scumble River came calling.
    Simon was standing on the concrete apron, dressed in a black suit and white shirt. His expression was grim. “May I come in?”
    “You might want to reconsider that request. The situation hasn’t brought out the best in the family.”
    “Then they’re really not going to like what I have to say. Let’s get it over with.”
    Skye tried to question him, but he insisted on speaking to everyone at once. They walked into the kitchen together, but Simon stayed at the door and Skye rejoined Vince by the sink.
    Simon cleared his throat. His gaze swept the room. “First, let me say I’m sorry for your loss. I was fortunate to get to know Antonia when Skye brought me out to visit, and she was a special lady who will be missed by everyone. Sadly, it is my conclusion, as coroner consulting with Doctor Zello, her personal physician, that she did not die of natural causes.”
    As Simon spoke, the twins started to cry, a twitch appeared near Dante’s eye, and Hugo blew his nose. But upon hearing Simon’s last sentence, everyone froze.
    Finally, Dante pushed his way over to Simon. Thumping his index finger into Simon’s chest, he shouted, “What are you talking about? If this is some sick joke . . .”
    Simon pushed Dante’s finger aside and went on as if he hadn’t been interrupted. “We found some irregularities when we examined her. This means we will have to perform an autopsy. I will take care of that as soon as possible and let you know when you can make funeral arrangements.”
    A stunned silence followed until May asked, “By not dying of natural causes, do you mean . . . ?”
    Simon nodded. “We suspect she was murdered.”

CHAPTER 4
    One, Two, What Should We Do?
    Suddenly voices bounced off the walls and filled the small room. Dante’s was the loudest: “What is the meaning of this? You can’t go cutting up someone just to prove you’re a big shot to your girlfriend.” He flung a look at Skye. “Skye, tell him you don’t want your grandmother to have to go through this.”
    Skye considered her response. Simon would understand if she didn’t admit that it was her idea in the first place. And Wally and Doc Zello would never tell. But she believed an autopsy was necessary, and it would be spineless not to say so.
    Everyone was looking at her, waiting. Vince moved closer.
    “I’m sorry, Uncle Dante. I can’t ask Simon not to do an autopsy because I’m the one who talked him into it.”
    The roar of voices was deafening, and this time May’s rose above the rest. “Oh, Skye, why?”
    Looking at her mother’s face, which seemed to have aged ten years since that morning, Skye was torn. Maybe she should have just let things be. Why did she always seem to