"About like you'd expect." Actually, I hadn't seen John David since yesterday, and I had no idea how he was holding up. But somehow, that didn't seem the right thing to confess. I was a little surprised that Cara asked. I hadn't been aware she'd ever had a conversation with John David.

"This is just awful, and in the house right behind me," Cara went on.

I hadn't thought of that. I would sure be scared, too. In fact, I'd be shaking in my shoes. But Cara seemed concerned, not frightened.

"Did you hear anything peculiar?" Teresa asked.

Cara, who was somewhere between forty and fifty, shrugged her muscular shoulders. "No, the day was just as usual. Swam in the morning, decorated the house for Thanksgiving, went to lunch with a friend, came back, did my second set of laps— that's when I heard a lot of coming and going over here—and then in the late afternoon, I made plans for a Christmas party my husband and I are giving."

I was sure that Cara Embler's plans for a party would be somewhat more sophisticated and complex than mine would be. Probably the guests would be more sophisticated, too, if they were from her husband's workplace. Did you entertain cardiologists and hospital administrators the same way you did, oh, say realtors and librarians? The wine would have to be better for the hospital people... .

"Aurora," Teresa was saying none too gently. "Are you listening to me?"

"No," I said. I saw Bryan turn hastily to one side to conceal a smile. Maybe I had been a tad blunt. "Sorry, I was drifting," I murmured. "What were you saying?"

"I was reminding Cara that she was next on the list."

The day after Poppy had died.

Teresa was not Ms. Sensitive, but this was callous, even for her. We all regarded her in a long moment of silence.

"What?" she said.

"The circumstances take most of the zest out of becoming an Uppity Woman," Cara said finally, looking past Teresa's shoulder as she spoke. "Give me a call to let me know the time and place. If you leave it on my machine, I'll write it down. I can't remember anything if you tell me away from a pad and pencil."

"I know how that is," Teresa agreed. "I live by my Day Planner." She was quite oblivious to her offense.

"Who on earth is that?" Cara asked. She, too, had caught a glimpse of Zachary Lee in his space suit.

Bryan took on the duty of explaining, What a long day it had been. And there was more to come. But I roused myself to ask Cara if she'd seen Moosie.

"I'll keep an eye out for him," she promised. "He's a cute cat. I personally don't believe in declawing, but I know the rationale was that declawing would keep him from climbing the fence and wandering the neighborhood. I guess Poppy's heart was in the right place."

"She didn't have Moosie declawed," I told her. "She adopted him like that. He was in the animal shelter. Just give me a call if you catch sight of him. I know John David would like to know Moosie is safe." If John David had had a chance to think about the cat at all: In his place, I wasn't sure I would.

Cara excused herself and went back to her side of the fence. Before she left, she glanced once more at Zachary Lee, who'd opened the sliding door to clean its runners.

"You know," Teresa said in the hushed voice you reserve for passing along scandal, "Stuart Embler used to drop by to see Poppy before he headed home, at least before Poppy had the baby."

I hadn't heard Cara splashing in the water, and I hoped she was not standing right on the other side of the fence, listening. To my relief, I heard her dogs barking as she slid open her own glass patio door. They were welcoming her back into the house with rapture, it sounded like. Maybe I should get a dog, I thought. Then I thought about what Madeleine would do to a dog, and I canceled the idea.

Bryan had a certain amount of distaste in his face as he looked at his former wife, but he also looked interested. "I wonder where Stuart was yesterday around eleven," he said.

"That should be easy enough to find out. But I'd be extremely surprised if Stuart had anything to do with this. His affair with Poppy was stale, and he wouldn't care if there was a little scandal anyway. Cardiologists can call the shots. I mean, if you had a sick heart, and this guy was the best chance of your surviving, would you care if you heard he'd had an extramarital roll in the hay?"

I could see Teresa's point.

"By the way, Aurora, speaking of extramarital affairs," Teresa began, and my eyes fixed on her. "Rumor has it that you saw someone leaving this house yesterday as you pulled up."

How the hell had such a story started making the rounds?

"I'll bet it was a man. Or the wife of some man she'd been carrying on with." Teresa's face was avid.

"No," I said, my voice as cold as a Tastee-Freez Coke slush. "That is not true."

"Well, my goodness, I'm sorry, I didn't realize I was hitting a nerve. We all figured you'd about got this solved."

I don't think I blinked at all as I glared at her.

Bryan said, "Isn't there somewhere you need to be, Teresa?"

She stopped dead, her mouth open.

"You've come by, you've given your condolences, and you've gotten some suggestions of ways the Uppities can help. I'm sure you have another errand or appointment?"

"I do need to stop by the store, and phone the committee members," she said slowly. Her face was red. "Good-bye, Aurora."

Gosh, I just loved seeing Teresa upbraided. Not the most pleasant side of my character, I'm afraid. "Good-bye," I said politely and distantly, and Bryan stood as Teresa did, then opened the gate to the front yard for her.

"She can't help it, you know," he said when he sat in the chair beside mine.

"I realize that she has many fine qualities."

He raised one eyebrow.

"She runs the Uppity Women smooth as a whistle," I told him. "She's organized and focused, and we do a lot of good under her leadership."

"I was married to her. I know just how organized and focused she can be."

"You said you've been divorced for a year?" Was it tacky to mention that?

"She married Shorty Stanton about seven months ago."

"He works at one of the banks, right?"

"He's the president of Southern Security," Bryan said a little dryly.

"Oh."

"Yes, big money."

I forbore remarking that Bryan himself couldn't be hurting for a healthy cash flow, unless he had a secret vice like gambling or drugs.

"Tell me about the car." His voice was quiet.

I stared at the crouching, dim figure of the crime-scene cleaner. He was working on the glass again now. I considered and discarded several responses.

"I didn't see any car," I said very carefully. "But I did find evidence that someone had been here before we got here."

"You know who it was," Bryan said.

I looked at him sideways. "No wonder you have such a good reputation as a lawyer."

"It's deserved, I promise you. Who was it?"

"I can't tell you that right now."

"Do you care more about this person than about your sister-in-law?"

"Yes."

That took him aback, but the lawyer rallied.

"You don't trust me?"

"I told you about the receipt," I remarked mildly. "And I'll tell you something else."

He turned his hand palm up, meaning, Give.

"Someone's been in the house since yesterday."

"This house?" He pointed at it, startled.

"Yes."

"How do you know?"

"The upstairs curtains are closed. They were open yesterday when I was up there."

Bryan stared at the curtains in the master bedroom as if they could tell him why they were pulled together. "Maybe the police closed them last night, so no one could see what they were doing," he suggested.

I shrugged. "Maybe."

Bryan seemed to give up. "Let's go check it out. I believe the man is telling you he's finished."