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certainly be viewed by some, especially anyone in law enforcement, as highly unusual and suspicious. Why hadn’t she immediately sought medical help in the event her husband was still alive and might have survived with emergency care? But I wouldn’t pass judgment on someone who’d just suffered such a shocking discovery. In her state of mind, it might have made all the sense in the world to reach out to a brother who lived relatively close by.
    “Poor thing,” Edwina said. “I just keep wondering if I should have been more forceful when she came to the office, insist that she leave the house and move to the shelter.”
    “Don’t second-guess yourself,” I said. “You couldn’t have forecast and staved off this tragedy. Did she say how her children are doing?”
    “She said that they’ve rallied around her. I hope she arranges for some sort of therapy for them. The impact of a tragedy like this can last a lifetime. Oh, Myriam’s mother is on her way from Bangor to help with the kids. Myriam didn’t sound too enthusiastic about it. Seems her mother was never a fan of Josh Wolcott.”
    “Be that as it may, it’s good that Myriam will have some additional support. Thanks for the update, Edwina.”
    “I thought you’d want to know, considering we spent time with her the other night. And I wanted to talk to you because I’m not sure exactly what to do.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “Well, the police ought to know that Myriam was a battered wife, that Josh hit her, don’t you think? But I’m not sure it’s ethical to tell them. I only know about it because she came to the shelter. But we promise confidentiality to all our clients. Do you think I should tell the police that Myriam had come to the shelter after Josh had hit her?”
    “They may already know, but I’d ask Myriam how she feels about that,” I replied. “I imagine it will come out anyway as the investigation proceeds, but ask her first.”
    I could almost hear her sigh over the phone. “Good advice,” she said. “I didn’t want to bring it up to the shelter board, but maybe after all this is over, we can straighten out what we do in cases like this. We’re learning as we go. Thanks, Jessica.”
    I just had time to drop in at the library to see Richard Koser’s photo exhibit before getting over to my local market. I had a grocery order I wanted to leave there for delivery the next day. Richard occasionally did work for the Gazette , but his loves in life were art photography, cooking, and of course his wife, Mary-Jane, not necessarily in that order.
    Richard’s photographs were mounted on foam board without frames and filled a whole wall in the front entrance of the library to the right of the checkout desk. His subjects varied from landscapes and architectural studies to candid scenes and portraits. I browsed pictures of places in Cabot Cove that were familiar to me, most of which were made all the more dramatic by being rendered in black and white, a few shots accented with color. Whether he still used film or used the computer to make his digital pictures mimic black-and-white film, the images were dark and mysterious.
    “Nice, aren’t they?” said a voice behind me.
    “Wonderful,” I replied, turning to see my friend Tobé Wilson. Tobé is married to Jack Wilson, Cabot Cove’s most popular veterinarian, and works side by side with him at their animal hospital. Some years back, she’d made a name for herself and attracted quite a bit of attention by walking her pet pig, Kiwi, in town. Kiwi was now in hog heaven, having succumbed to old age, but people in Cabot Cove still remembered her fondly. Meanwhile, Tobé volunteered what spare time she had to civic activities. She was this year’s chairwoman of the Blueberry Festival.
    “Can I count on your being a judge in the blueberry pie contest this summer?” she asked.
    “I will if you need me,” I said. “I was debating whether or not to enter it myself.”
    “You can enter