"Did you subdivide the land so each one has his or her own parcel, or are you transferring the deed so we're all listed as the owners?"

"One piece, so it's all for one, one for all. My children and grandchildren are going to have to learn to get along eventually."

A new complaint. Hand it to Gramma-at an age where most people declined to take on anything different, she was always open to new grievances.

"We all get along okay," Tess said tentatively. Gramma was spoiling for a fight this morning. The skirmish at the Beauty Palace had only whetted her appetite.

"You're hard on Deborah, Theresa Esther. She thinks you don't respect her because she's just a full-time mother and you're Miss Big Britches Private Eye, getting written up in the newspaper."

"Did she say that?" Tess was surprised. She thought she and Deborah, intense competitors during childhood, had agreed to an adulthood truce. They may not approve of one another, but they didn't call attention to it.

"No, but I can tell. I have a sixth sense about these things."

"Right. And I bet you tell Deborah that I'm, I don't know, jealous of her because she has a husband and a baby, while I'm ‘just' a spinster with a struggling business. Does your sixth sense pick that up as well?"

"Mama, did you see Hecht's has a sale on the hose you like so much?" That was Judith, trying to get Gramma's scope trained on her and away from Tess. "Would you like me to pick some up for you this afternoon? As long as I've taken the day off, I might as well put it to good use."

Gramma held her hand up at her only daughter like an impatient traffic cop, her eyes still fixed on Tess's. What had Treasure Teeter called that move? Doin' the Heisman.

"There's still time to take your name off that deed, Missy. What do you say to that?"

Tess had much she wanted to say to that. Go ahead, take it away from me, you bitter old woman. Give my share to one of your beloved china springer spaniels. You can't hold me hostage with money. You're mean and you're petty. Poppa probably died because he couldn't take living with you any more.

Uncle Donald started whistling another show tune, "Some Enchanted Evening." Judith simply looked miserable, even unhappier than she had when Tess had glimpsed her in the parking lot outside her grandmother's apartment building. But was the cause of her unhappiness her mother or her daughter?

"I say"-Tess took one last glance at Judith's face-"that I'm sorry if I sounded impudent and of course I'm grateful for your generosity. Can I bring anything Wednesday night?"

A plump, vaguely familiar woman was waiting on Tess's doorstep when Tess returned to her office.

"Miss Monaghan?" She wore a kelly-green suit with a red silk blouse. Merry Christmas, Tess thought, but she was touched at the same time. The woman, whoever she was, considered visiting Keyes Investigations important enough to dress up.

"That's me." Tess unlocked the door. The moment the key was in the lock, she could hear Esskay unfurling herself from the sofa, rushing across the floor with a great clatter of toenails. The dog sounded pretty impressive-she could be a Rottweiler or a pit bull, except for the lack of bark-and the visitor cowered behind Tess.

"The only thing my dog will do is lick you to death," she assured her visitor, who edged through the door, trying to keep Tess between her and the dog. "Now what can I do for you?"

"Don't you remember me?"

Tess hadn't, at first. She had made the mistake of looking at the clothes, not the woman's face. "Keisha Moore. Donnie's mother. Where's Laylah?"

"My sister-in-law's looking after her."

There was an awkward silence, Tess waiting for Keisha to say why she had come, Keisha apparently waiting for Tess to start asking her questions.

"Is there something I can help you with, Keisha?"

"I heard, on the news, that the man who killed my boy may have killed some other children. The ones you were looking for."

Shit. Tess had counted on the television stations not catching wind of the police department's suspicions unless Beale was officially charged. Either they had more evidence than Tyner thought, or someone at the police station had leaked the story, hoping to turn the heat up on Beale. As a convicted killer, he was a tough man to libel, alas.

"That's just speculation, Keisha."

The green suit was much too tight, and when Keisha sat down, her shiny red blouse seemed to surge out of the top. It was hard for Tess to believe that all this show was just for her.

"Well, if those other ones are dead, who gets their money?"

She certainly was focused. For five years now, Keisha Moore had tried to find a way to turn her son's death into a payday, and she hadn't given up hope there was some cash to be squeezed out of it.

"I regret to tell you there isn't any money for anyone. I thought there was, but it turns out things were not quite as they seemed."

"I heard the girl got her money. It's all over the street."

"You didn't know anything about her when I stopped by your house," Tess pointed out.

"Yeah, well I just didn't make the connection, you know? I was thinking of some little girl. How much she get, anyway?"

"All Destiny got was a pretty ugly death."

Without realizing it, Keisha was holding the tip of her tongue between her teeth, as unselfconsciously as a child. The tongue disappeared, and her eyes suddenly looked sly.

"Did you help him kill her and her brother, the one who burnt up?"

"Jesus, no. What a horrible thing to ask."

Keisha was unrepentant. "Well, you asked me some pretty rude things when you came to my house. Why was Donnie in foster care, as if that had anything to do with anything. What did I do to lose him? You were worse than any cop or social worker. That's the worst thing about being poor, having to answer people's goddamn questions all the time. ‘You own a car? You got any money in savings? You got a man living with you? Who's your baby's father?' I get sick of it, okay?"

"I can understand that."

"Huh. Like you ever had to answer some nosy bitch's questions."

"I was on unemployment for a while. Trust me, I answered my share of questions."

Keisha didn't seem mollified. She slumped in her chair, chin lowered to her scarlet chest, glaring at Tess.

"Do you need money, Keisha?"

"You know anyone who doesn't?" she countered.

"It's early in the month to be running short."

"I had some…unexpected expenses. There's a dining room set I put money down on. If I don't make a payment today, I'm going to lose it." So the Christmas finery was for the guy at the furniture store. Tess didn't want to think about what Keisha might do in lieu of payment. Jackie was right. She had never really known what it was like to scrape bottom, or even how far down the bottom was.

"I might be able to help you out. But first, I want to ask you some of the same questions I asked you before. Only this time, I'd like some answers."

Keisha's eyes were amber, Tess noticed. A cold, hard amber with a swirl of green at the center of the iris.

"I'll get my dining room set?"

"You'll get your furniture," Tess assured her. "Now why was Donnie in foster care?"

"I went off on an errand, up to Atlantic City. I thought I'd be home that night, but there was, like, an accident. When his teacher found out Donnie had spent the night alone, the Social Service came and took him."

"A car accident? A breakdown?"

Keisha squirmed a little in her chair, but said nothing.

"If I call a friend in New Jersey, am I going to find out you have a record?" Tess didn't actually have any friends in New Jersey, but Keisha didn't know that. It was plausible. Someone must have a friend in New Jersey.