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another asset Scott Covey had inherited.
    The Sprague residence was the next house. Another very attractive place. This one was an authentic salt-box, probably built in the late eighteenth century. Nat had never met the Spragues but used to enjoy the articles Professor Phoebe Sprague wrote for the Cape Cod Times. They all had to do with legends from the early Cape. He hadn’t seen any new ones in recent years, however.
    When Henry Sprague answered the bell, invited him in and introduced him to his wife, Nat understood immediately why Phoebe Sprague was no longer contributing articles. Alzheimer’s, he thought, and with compassion became aware of the tired creases etched around Henry Sprague’s mouth, of the quiet pain in his eyes.
    He refused the offer for coffee. “I won’t be long. Just a few questions, sir. How well did you know Vivian Carpenter Covey?”
    Henry Sprague wanted to be kind. Painfully honest, he also did not want to dissemble. “As you probably know, Vivian bought that house three years ago. We introduced ourselves to her. You can see my wife is not well. Her problem was just beginning to become obvious at that time. Unfortunately, Vivian began to drop in on us constantly. She was taking a course in cooking and kept bringing over samples of food she had prepared. It got to the point where my wife was becoming very nervous. Vivian meant to be kind, butI finally had to ask her to stop visiting unless we specifically had plans to get together.”
    He paused and added, “Emotionally, Vivian was an extremely needy young woman.”
    Nat nodded. It fit in with what he had heard from others. “How well do you know Scott Covey?”
    â€œI’ve met him, of course. He and poor Vivian were married very quietly, I gather, but she did have a reception at home that we attended. That was in early May. Her family was there and so were a smattering of friends and other neighbors.”
    â€œWhat did you think of Scott Covey?”
    Henry Sprague avoided a direct answer. “Vivian was radiantly happy. I was pleased for her. Scott seemed very devoted.”
    â€œHave you seen much of them since then?”
    â€œOnly from a distance. They seemed to go out on the boat quite a bit. Sometimes when we were all barbecuing in the back we’d exchange pleasantries.”
    â€œI see.” Nat sensed that Henry Sprague was holding something back. “Mr. Sprague, you’ve said that Covey seemed very devoted to his wife. Did you get the feeling he was honestly in love with her?”
    Sprague did not have a problem answering that question. “He certainly acted as though he was.”
    But there was more, and again Henry Sprague hesitated. He felt he might be guilty of simple gossip if he told the detective something that had happened in late June. He’d dropped Phoebe off at the hairdresser, and Vivian had been there as well, having her hair done. To kill time, he’d gone across the street to the Cheshire Pub, to have a beer and watch the Red Sox and Yankees game.
    Scott Covey had been sitting on a stool in the bar. Their eyes met, and Henry went over to greet him. He didn’t know why, but he had the impression that Covey was nervous. A moment later a flashy brunettein her late twenties came in. Covey had jumped up. “For heaven’s sake, Tina, what are you doing here?” he’d said. “I thought you had a run-through Tuesday afternoons.”
    She had looked at him dumbfounded but recovered quickly. “Scott, how nice to bump into you. No rehearsal today. I was supposed to meet some of the other kids from the show either here or at the Impudent Oyster. I’m late, so if they’re not here I’ll rush over there.”
    When she left, Scott told Henry that Tina was in the chorus of the musical currently at the Cape Playhouse. “Vivian and I went to opening night and started talking to her at the cast party in the Playhouse