Melinda was stunned. I could hear her choking on whatever she was drinking. "Poppy's dad, the minister?" she asked incredulously. "Poppy's mom? Trashed her place? I can't believe it!" She went on like that for a few more minutes, though I knew she did believe me. It was a way to handle the unpleasant shock.

Melinda got to the bottom line quickly, as I knew she would. "So, we need to clean it up," she said. She sounded gloomy at the prospect. "Well, let me call around and see if I can get a teenager to baby-sit. They're all out of school, and maybe one of them wants to do something as boring as watching kids. Speaking of babies, where has John David stashed Chase?"

"I hope you're sitting down. John David's still in the motel with Chase, and there he stays, taking care of the little fellow."

That was just as shocking to Melinda as the vandalism of Poppy's house.

"I'll call him," she said when she had recovered. "I'll just check on them. This is a good thing, but I'm just not confident of his ability to take care of that child."

"Wasn't he a help before?"

"Not as much as /would've liked, though I can't say Poppy complained. As I told you, Avery has been great with both of ours. Of course, everyone takes it for granted that the mom will do everything for the kids, but if a dad does a lot for them, it's a big deal." I could picture Melinda's shrug.

"I'm proud of John David," I said. "I thought he'd fold."

"Me, too. Goes to show."

I wasn't sure what it went to show, but I grunted agreeably and we fixed a time to meet at the house on Swanson, if Melinda was lucky enough to get a sitter.

As I brushed my teeth, I found myself thinking of Sally. I felt a strong impulse to call her, just to check up on her. But what would I say? "Forgotten anything important lately, Sally?"

"Do you remember who I am, Sally?" I wondered if perhaps a complete physical could turn up some problem that was solvable, and not just expose the explanation Perry dreaded—that Sally was in the early stages of Alzheimer's. I made a note to myself to call Perry or take him out to lunch so we could talk about it without being interrupted, which we would be at the library.

Melinda called back to tell me she'd gotten a sitter, and she sounded much more cheerful. I got the impression Marcy's cold was making her daughter a little difficult and that Melinda definitely wouldn't mind a break. We agreed to meet at the house on Swanson at 10:00 a.m.

I wrote Phillip a note about my plans, including the number for my cell phone and the number at John David's. After I got dressed in grubby old jeans and a faded Christmas sweatshirt, both a little loose to allow me some comfort, I started out on my morning errands.

Somewhere along the way, I yielded to an irresistible impulse and drove over to the Best Western. John David was on the first floor, and I could hear Chase shrieking from outside the door.

John David looked bleary-eyed when he opened it, but he was dressed, and not surprised to have company. "Melinda already called this morning," he said, moving aside to let me in. "Listen, help me think of something to get him calmed down."

"I have almost no experience," I warned him.

"I've tried feeding him, burping him, changing him, and singing to him."

The idea of John David singing to that baby just did something to me. I'm a sucker for man who can take care of a baby, or a man who's at least trying to take care of a baby. To cover up the fact that my eyes were full of tears, I held out my arms and he put Chase in them. Chase was a wriggling bundle of misery, and he was making such a whirlwind of his little arms and legs that I was scared I wouldn't be able to hold him. I sat down in the room's one comfortable chair and held Chase so his chest was against mine, his head resting against my shoulder. The chair wouldn't rock, so I rocked for it, back and forth, back and forth, murmuring to the baby.

Chase began to relax some, and the shrieks died down to whimpers. Suddenly, there was silence. He was sound asleep, but I kept up with my movement.

"He's all I've got left to love," John David said in a near whisper. He looked thinner after only a few days of being a widower. He had shaved, and he had tucked in his shirt and combed his hair, but the spark was not in his eyes anymore.

"How can you say you loved her?" I asked. My voice was strained with the effort of containing my anger and speaking in a low, calm voice. "I found you at Romney's, and it wasn't the first place I looked."

"I always loved Poppy. I got mad at her a lot. She was a woman with a lot of secrets," he said, his voice just as low and controlled. "But I loved her. Just not the way you think people ought to love. You're such a straight arrow. Life has no spice unless you have adventures." He even smiled, just a faint one, but a smile nonetheless.

If my hands had been free at that moment, I might have tried to throttle him. "You're right," I said, so furiously that Chase whimpered. "I don't understand. I'll never understand." I fought to keep my voice under control. "I am really glad you're taking care of Chase. But it is beyond my comprehension, how you and Poppy could live like you did."

"She was a complicated woman. She had some bad breaks when she was in her early teens," John David said. "I would have liked it if we'd been different, I swear I would. I didn't set out to be ... like I am. But we made a pattern, and it was one that let us live together, and I thought it would be okay."

It was like we had both taken a little truth serum. I had never imagined having such a conversation. But it was actually kind of refreshing to openly acknowledge their fractured marriage.

"So," I began, then paused. "You both always knew? When the other was seeing someone else?"

He nodded, and I felt my mouth twist with distaste. Abruptly, I was nauseated by the idea of such a union, and baffled by the point of it.

The baby was getting heavier and heavier. I got up very slowly and carefully and placed him in the bassinet that had been set up by the bed. Whether John David had brought it from the house or the motel had rolled it in, I didn't know, but I was glad it was there so I could put Chase down without my back positively breaking.

"John David," I said very softly, looking down at the sleeping child, "who do you think killed her?"

"I think maybe it was her mother," he said, his voice a hoarse whisper. "I'd hate to think Sandy would do something like that, but you don't know that family. Let me tell you, any sick pattern you think Poppy and I had, she learned it from her own mom and dad. She'd never get into details, but she never wanted them here. She'd be pretty open about everything else."

"She talked about the other men?"

"Arthur most of all. He was always obsessive about her. I think it's pretty damn peculiar that the police chief has Arthur on the case, unless Arthur's persuaded him he's found a possible suspect. Arthur kind of transferred all those feelings he had about you to Poppy. He even talked to Poppy about you, all the time at first."

This was more than I wanted to know.

"And then there were others."

I shook my head. "I can't understand."

"She used them, you know," he said. He leaned forward, his hands between his knees. I wondered if he'd be able to build a healthy relationship with anyone after this. "They were always some use to her. Or after it was over, she made them useful in some way."

"What about you?" I asked, not able to think about Poppy anymore. "Is that the way you picked your... friends?"

"No." He shrugged, "I just wanted something simple." After a minute, I realized that he was crying, and I patted him on the shoulder, gave him a little peck on the forehead, and left to search his house.