"You'd have killed him yourself?"

Lily blinked and her expression grew guarded. "Now you think I'm a murderer? Natalie, I would have felt like killing him, but feeling and doing are different things."

For the first time in their long friendship Natalie felt a flicker of doubt about Lily. She hated the feeling. Would she be having it if Nick Meredith hadn't raised the possibility that Lily had killed Warren and Charlotte? Lily looked at her questioningly, and she realized she hadn't responded.

"I understand how you must have felt about Warren," Natalie said quickly. Then she thought of the other possible killer she had discussed with Nick. "How is Alison doing now that her beloved is dead?"

"Last night she was moving around like she was in a trance," Lily said, her face growing defenseless again. " Warren 's father Richard stopped by. He has acquired this very young, flashy wife since you met him at the wedding. He also brought along his hulking younger son Bruce. Richard had already had a few too many drinks before they arrived, then he started in on Dad's brandy. He acts mad at Warren for getting killed."

"Well, they say anger is one of the stages of grief."

"It isn't that kind of anger. He was ranting and raving about how this was typical of Warren -he never showed good sense. What the hell was he doing with that Bishop woman? Did we all know about the affair? Did we all know what a complete ass Warren was making of himself? He was shouting and glaring at all of us. Alison started to cry. Her whole body shook. Viveca left with her. As soon as they were gone, Richard said Alison looked crazy. His wife told him to hush, but he just got louder and drank more and went on about what an idiot Warren was."

"I remember Richard Hunt from Tam's wedding. I thought he was awful."

"We all did. Thank goodness we haven't seen much of him and probably will never see him again after this mess is cleared up. As much as I detested Warren, I could see why he turned out the way he did."

"He certainly set off Alison for the evening," Natalie said, clumsily steering the conversation back to the direction she wanted. "Do you think she's worse?"

Lily looked away for a moment. "Yes. I hadn't really thought about it, but she's different than she was when Dad and Viveca began seeing each other."

"Do you think she's capable of violence?"

"Violence? Well, I've seen her throw a couple of tantrums that were pretty scary. She's stronger than she looks and her temper is fierce. She's been wandering around at night. I know Viveca is really worried."

"Alison is very unstable. And she had a wild crush on Warren." She paused. "Lily, Alison probably saw Tam as a rival."

Lily's eyes widened. "Do you think Alison might have killed my sister?"

"Maybe. And as for Warren -well, with her rival out of the way, Alison could have thought Warren would turn to her. But he didn't, of course. He ran straight to Charlotte."

"He did, didn't he? Two nights after his wife was murdered, he was with his mistress."

Lily suddenly sounded vague, detached. Was it because she'd been profoundly shocked by the possibility that Alison killed Warren? Or was it because she knew Alison had not murdered him?

Natalie had brought no clothing suitable for a funeral. How could she have guessed a two-week visit home would include the murder of one of her closest friends? She'd never known anyone who was murdered. But no matter how she had died, the rituals of death would be observed for Tamara.

Natalie was never an enthusiastic shopper, but when she tried on clothes at the slightly antiquated local department store, she had to choke back tears. Lily never shopped for clothes in Port Ariel, but Tamara did. In a few months she might have stood in this dressing room trying on maternity tops. She would have been so happy.

Finally Natalie chose a short-sleeved black dress for the visitation and a navy blue suit for the funeral. She knew she would wear each outfit only once. The associations with Tam's death would always be too strong.

When she arrived home she felt as if she'd run a marathon. A telephone encounter with Kenny, the unnerving meeting with Jeff Lindstrom, a visit to Lily's, and a dreaded shopping trip had all occurred before three o'clock. To top it off, her head still hurt ferociously. She took two more aspirin and went to her bedroom, stripping to her underwear and slipping beneath the sheet and coverlet. Sleep came with the abruptness of a door slamming in her face.

"Coming to see me tonight?" Tamara asked. She sat in a wicker rocker, a filmy white gown flowing around her. On a small table beside her glowed a Tiffany-shaded lamp throwing soft colors over the perfection of her profile. Then the light brightened, and Tamara turned her head full face toward Natalie. The skin was checkered with bloody gashes, her eye sockets were empty. "Look what's happened to me, Natalie," she said sadly. "Just look what's happened."

Natalie jerked up in bed, her heart throbbing, a strangled scream tearing at her throat. Alarmed, Blaine leaped onto the bed and leaned forward to lick Natalie's sweaty face. She put her hand on the dog's sleek head. "It's all right, girl," she murmured. "A horrible dream, that's all."

She swung her legs to the side of the bed and glanced at the clock. Five-fifteen. Less than two hours until Tamara's wake.

If Kenny were here he would be trying to cheer me up, she thought. He would be saying that Tamara had been happy in her twenty-nine years of life. He would tell me that everyone has a time to go and it was simply her time to go and that one shouldn't mourn over what fate has decreed.

He would be annoying the hell out of me, Natalie thought abruptly. Kenny never wanted to face the dark side of life. He'd never had the need. Nothing awful had ever happened to him. Her life had been different. No slick, superficial phrases had been able to wipe away the realization that her mother had walked away from her and barely looked back. She'd faced heartache and loss when she was young and although the experience had been rough, it had challenged her to do some deep thinking that Kenny had escaped.

A bit stunned by her realization, she absent-mindedly took another quick shower and dressed for the visitation, dusting powder over her face and adding some blush and lipstick to hide her pallor. The black dress made her look somber. She slipped on her watch and added small silver filigree earrings. Silver filigree earrings. She'd given Tamara dangling filigree earrings and one had fallen from Jeff Lindstrom's pocket this morning. Had Tam been wearing the earrings the night she was murdered? As soon as possible she had to tell Nick Meredith about Jeff and the earring. She hoped he would come to the wake.

At quarter to seven she headed to Leery's Funeral Home. The parking lot sat full of cars. Natalie opened one of the double doors and stepped in on incredibly thick forest-green carpet. Doleful organ music reverberated through the rooms. A tall, thin man with thick silver hair and melancholy expression descended on her. "Leonard Leery," he said just above a whisper. "This is my establishment."

"I know, Leonard. I'm Natalie St. John."

He squinted, then blushed. "Natalie! I didn't recognize you."

"It's been a long time."

"Yes. Not since Grace Peyton died." His melancholy expression intensified. "Oh, my, this is just awful. Dear Tamara. Such a fine woman. Oliver and Lily are devastated."

A short, plump woman appeared beside him. Leonard and Loretta Leery had always reminded Natalie of Jack Sprat and his wife. "Natalie, you sweet thing!" Leonard winced at his wife's fluting voice. "How slim you are!"

Natalie wished she could say the same for Loretta. Her black skirt was stretched tightly over a substantial girdled derriere and huge ruffles decorated her gray blouse, giving her the look of a pouter pigeon. She'd dyed her gray hair a brassy copper color and swept it up in a mass of hairspray stiffened curls. "What do you think of my hair?" she asked, preening.