“Yes, and it was very interesting. She says death is different in a nursing home…” Susan began the story.

By the time their breakfast arrived, Kathleen had covered two pages with notes and Susan really was starving. She stuck a fork into the pile of hash browns on her overflowing oval plate while Kathleen picked up her mug of coffee, a serious expression on her face.

“What do you think about the murders?” Susan asked.

“Actually, I was thinking about Nadine’s death. Did you see the morning paper?”

“No, I’ve been so busy. Was there a story about it?”

“It covered the entire front page. The details of the murder itself, of course. A short interview with Brett in which he managed to say almost nothing, like the good cop he is. A fairly long interview with Donald who repeated over and over that he was distraught, miserable, and didn’t know who could have wanted to harm a hair on the head of his perfect wife-you know the sort of thing.”

Susan, her mouth full of omelet, only nodded.

“And an even longer interview with Blaine Baines.”

Susan swallowed. “Really? What did she say?”

“After describing her son as the best husband in the world and explaining that she was shocked and horrified at the death of his beloved wife-”

“What did she say about Nadine?”

“All the normal things. How sweet she was, how she couldn’t imagine why anyone would want to kill her, how they always got along perfectly.”

“Working to make sure that neither she nor her son might become the primary suspects?”

“Definitely. And more than that. She was very careful to tell the reporter that not only did she and her son learn of the murder together, but they were together when it occurred.”

“I’m not sure that’s surprising. I think if I was in her-their-situation I would be tempted to do the same,” Susan said.

“Do you think one of them might have killed her?”

“I have no idea. But I think you could describe Blaine Baines as ruthless, and ruthless people certainly might kill someone who stood in the way of what they wanted.”

“Ruthless?” Kathleen mused. “Sounds like someone in one of those thrillers Jerry likes to read, not the local real estate agent.”

Susan, her initial hunger sated, stared at her plate and thought a bit before answering. “ Blaine ’s not your average housewife turned house seller. She owns and runs a multimillion-dollar business. But it’s not her business self I’m talking about. It’s her personality. She’s completely egocentric. She quite literally sees things only from her own perspective.”

“Don’t we all?”

“Sure, to a point, but Blaine ’s egocentricity is extreme. I don’t think she’s capable of seeing the other person’s-any other person’s-point of view.”

Kathleen put down her mug and stared across the table at her friend. “What happened?” she asked.

Susan put down her fork, took a sip of coffee, and tried to answer the question.

“We were once close… well, not close, but we spent time together. I didn’t know a lot of people in town in those days…” She stopped for a moment and then started again.

“I met Blaine… she introduced herself to me about two weeks after we moved to town. She was living just around the corner back then, in the big split-level the Sanders now live in.”

Kathleen nodded to show she knew what house Susan was talking about and Susan continued. “She came by to be neighborly. That’s what she said and I appreciated it although the house was a mess and-well, you know me…”

“You want everything to be perfect when you have company.”

“Yes. And I was new in town and didn’t know much about the area. Anyway, I was thrilled to be meeting people. And Blaine explained that she was an important person in Hancock.”

“What do you mean?”

“She was on the membership committee of the Field Club, a member of the town zoning board, and she was running for a seat on the town council-which she won that year with my help.”

“Your help?”

“I volunteered to make phone calls for her.”

“That day?”

“Yeah, that very day.”

“I’m afraid you’re not exactly filling me in on all the details.”

“Sorry. To tell the truth, I still feel like a fool when I think about it.”

“Why? Did you later learn that she was completely unqualified for the job?”

“No, I later learned that calling strangers is a horrible job that no one in their right mind would volunteer for… and that I was completely unprepared for. I called hundreds of homes and asked them to vote for someone I hardly knew and then, if they asked questions about Blaine ’s qualifications, I had a sheet of prepared answers to read to them. It took hours and hours, and I was made to feel like a fool more than once because I knew almost nothing about the town then and I wanted desperately to get involved, to feel as if I belonged. It was my own fault. I shouldn’t have said I would do it.”

“Exactly how did you end up doing it?”

“Well, Blaine said she was running and I asked how the campaign was going and she probably-this was years ago, remember-said she needed to find volunteers to make phone calls, that it was an easy job, could be done from home in spare time.”

“And you leapt right in and volunteered to do it. I know you, Susan. That sounds just like you.”

“Yes, I did. And, of course, it turned out to be a huge task. She gave me a list of three hundred households and said it was terribly important that I speak personally to at least one adult in each house. It took forever and, of course, I couldn’t do it in my spare time-when the kids were napping, for instance-because no one was home then. I had to call during dinnertime or right after dinner and the people I called were irritated by me interrupting their family time and sounded like it. It was awful.”

“And?”

“What do you mean?”

“You don’t describe someone as ruthless because they manipulated you into making a few hundred phone calls,” Kathleen said.

“Well, no. But, you see, Blaine didn’t care about getting elected as much as she cared about her business. She used her elected office to become better known in the state. I wasn’t helping create good government in Hancock. I was helping her become a real estate mogul. I should have refused to help.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“It sounds stupid-it’s not like I don’t have any will of my own, for goodness sake-but Blaine was so good at manipulating me. And I don’t think she set out to do it. She’s just so focused on herself and her goals and she can’t imagine why anyone wouldn’t be just the same. You know, she’s a bit like Nadine, although with ambition. Nadine could spend hours talking about herself as though her life, opinions, you name it, were of compelling interest to anyone she happened to be talking to. Blaine is the same way. She just happens to be more goal oriented.”

“And you ended up being taken advantage of.”

“Like an idiot.”

“Like a very nice person,” Kathleen corrected her.

“Like an idiot,” Susan repeated slowly. “I really thought I’d gotten a little backbone until right now. I can’t believe Nadine used me the same way her mother-in-law did years ago and that I didn’t even realize it. Damn.”

“Look, you can either spend years and thousands of dollars on therapy or just figure it’s in the past and forget about it. Besides, when you realized what Blaine was doing, you began to avoid her, right?” Kathleen asked, smiling.

Susan smiled back. “You know me-anything to get out of a confrontation. She moved to a bigger house on the other side of town.

“So what else did the paper say?” Susan added.

“Not too much else. The space was taken up by photographs of Nadine’s home. There wasn’t an obituary.”

“There will be tonight. Donald brought it over early this morning for me to look at.”

“Anything interesting?”

“Not really. Mostly an exaggerated telling of a pretty ordinary life.”