"Has John David heard from the police about when he's going to get Poppy's body back to bury?"

"It seems as though there's a backlog in Atlanta, so it won't be until Monday at the earliest."

"Oh no." Though in a way it was a relief that Poppy's funeral wouldn't be within the next couple of days, I didn't want to think about that backlog.

"I'm so glad the Wynns decided to go back home," Mother continued. "I know they had things to take care of, because they left to come over here in such a hurry. It'll be much better if they just come back when the funeral's settled. I think they assumed they'd be making the arrangements, and it took them aback when John David told them what he was going to do."

"The Wynns are leaving? Where are they now?" I had actually forgotten about the Wynns, and to my shame, my Thanksgiving plans had never included them. I carried the cordless phone over to the door of the room the Wynns had been using and glanced inside. Their things were still there. Hmm.

"Why, I don't know." Mother sounded surprised. "Aren't they—they haven't come to your house and gotten their bags?"

"No," I said, anxiety making my voice sharp. "I haven't seen them since last night."

"I talked to them about four today," Mother said, "and they told me they were leaving. Where do you suppose they could be?"

"I don't know." I had a shameful, petulant moment of wishing someone would just do the predictable thing. I don't deal well with prolonged upheaval. "Do they have any good friends left in town?"

"You know, they didn't have a lot even when they lived here."

That was true, though I'd never posed it to myself that way.

The Wynns, tall and thin and aggressively healthy, bright and articulate, had never been the most popular ministerial couple in town. The church youth group had been popular, though, because Marvin Wynn, awkward with his own belated child, was a whiz with other people's children.

I sighed, trying to aim it away from the phone. All I wanted to do was go to bed. But I had to track down my guests, and I had to relieve my mother of this anxiety.

"I'll call around a little," I said. "I'll get back to you. Maybe they're with John David, playing with the baby. Which motel?"

I called the Lawrenceton Best Western, and John David was in.

"Poppy's folks didn't leave our key with you?" John David sounded tired, and numb. I could hear the baby crying in the background. "They wanted to get some family heirloom to take back to their house with them—something of Sandy's mother's. I told them I had no idea where it was but said they were welcome to go over there and look. They were supposed to leave my house key with you."

"How long ago was that?"

"Hours. I thought they were long gone back home."

"I guess I'll go over there and check," I said. It was the last thing in the world I wanted to do, but it was what I should do.

"Please do." There was a long pause. John David said, "I don't know what they could be doing in our house for so long. Poppy always had a very tense relationship with her parents. If you'd do this, I'd really appreciate it. I'm just not up to dealing with them tonight. This little guy is missing Poppy." I knew my stepbrother was referring to Chase, but I think he was also talking about himself.

It was pitch-black, and I didn't know what I would find over at the house on Swanson. I wanted someone to go with me, preferably someone bigger than I, or at least well armed. My dad and his wife would kill me if I took Phillip to a place where he might have any sort of bad experience. Robin's mother was at his place, and I hated to butt in on their time together; plus, it wouldn't make a good impression, would it—calling Robin to come help me, when his mom was in residence? Calling the police seemed a little over the top. I thought of Angel or Shelby Youngblood, who used to work for Martin and me— and then I remembered they'd gone to Florida. That left only one possibility on my list. Reluctantly, I called Bryan Pascoe. That was better than calling Arthur anyway. Why'd I call a guy? Politically incorrect, huh? Because I was scared, that's why. And I figured Melinda was busy with her kids. And I didn't like Avery.

Bryan, to my near dismay, was delighted to hear from me, and willing to go to Poppy's and meet me there.

Phillip, engrossed in his TV show, gave me an offhand wave as I left. It took only five minutes to get to Poppy and John David's place, but the lawyer was already there. Bryan was wearing jeans and a sweater, which for him was really letting his hair down.

I apologized again for getting him out of his house so late in the evening.

"No problem," he said. "I'm a full-service lawyer. Besides, all I had to do was sit around and watch a tape of Buffy the Vampire Slayer!"

I laughed, much to my own surprise.

"What are you doing for the holiday?" I asked, just to stave off going up that sidewalk and into the house. Sure enough, the house wasn't dark; even though it ought to have been. Sandy and Marvin Wynn were apparently still there. What on earth were they doing?

"I'm going to have dinner with my mother at the Assisted Living Center," Bryan said.

Again I was surprised. Somehow, I couldn't picture Bryan with his mother. "Your dad's gone?" I asked.

"Nope, he's living in Atlanta with his second wife, a very nice woman he met in his nursing home. He and my mother have been divorced for the past twenty years or so."

"And he remarried. I guess you're never too old for romance."

"Definitely not," Bryan said. "Now, what are we doing here?"

"The Wynns are in the house. They borrowed John David's key. They were supposed to come by and get their bags and leave for their home. They told my mother they'd return when the funeral was definitely scheduled. They told John David they wanted to retrieve something of Sandy's mother's, some family heirloom Poppy had. I don't believe he asked or cared what it was. They've been here much longer than that should take. And we're almost certain that Sandy was in the area the morning Poppy was killed."

Bryan considered for a minute. "So, am I here as John David's lawyer or as your bodyguard?"

I smiled again, though I don't know if he could make it out in the gloom. Poppy and John David lived in the middle of the block, and the streetlights on the corners didn't really illuminate their yard. "A bit of both," I said. "I'm worried about them. But if they're okay, I plan on being mad at them. They've been here way too long." I took a deep breath. "Mostly, this is just weird and needs to be looked into. John David asked me to do that for him."

"Clear as a bell," Bryan said.

We went up the flagstones to the front door, and after a moment's hesitation, I opened it without knocking. This wasn't the Wynns' house, after all.

Bryan shut the door behind us, and we stood in the hallway at the foot of the stairs leading up to the bedrooms, trying to make sense of what we saw. Marvin Wynn was crouched by Poppy's rolltop desk, in the small room to the right of the stairs, the room originally intended for a dining room. Both Poppy and John David used it as an office, and they each had a computer there. A large bookshelf covered one wall, and it was crammed with all kinds of books and knickknacks. Now the room was in an utter jumble. Half the books were on the floor. Marvin, crouched on the floor, was pulling the drawers out of the rolltop desk and turning them over to examine the bottoms.

He was so startled when he looked up and discovered two people observing him that he jumped, visibly. He gasped and dropped the drawer, which landed painfully on his thighs. He made another noise, this one surprising from a minister.

Poppy would not have taped a family heirloom to the bottom of the drawer.