“If you call and tell your secretary that I’m coming…”

Donald beamed as though Susan had had an original thought. “Then you can just stop in and pick it up! Exactly!” The beam faded. “There is just one problem though.”

“What?”

“If you should happen to run into Mother…” He took a deep breath. “She might ask about me.”

“Of course she’s concerned about you,” Susan said, speaking as a mother rather than a neighbor.

“I hate for her to worry. It’s a horrible shock, of course, but I’m going to be fine.”

“I’ll tell her that I just saw you and-”

“Oh, no! Don’t say that! She thinks… well, I didn’t want her to worry.”

“What do you want me to tell her?” Susan asked.

“I told her I wanted to be alone today… tonight. I just don’t want her to worry.”

“But if I run into her what reason shall I give for being at your office?”

Donald, no longer the bereaved widower, smiled broadly. “You could just tell her that you’re interested in selling your house,” he said. “Mother would be more than happy if she thought she was getting such an important listing.”

Susan and Clue returned home, both a little tired, one more than a little puzzled. Donald was not acting like a man who had lost his wife in a brutal attack. At least he was the first person she had known to drown grief in a new exercise routine. And his request that she take part in the memorial service… she was still thinking that one through when she walked into her living room.

And discovered Shannon sitting on the couch surrounded by baby presents. She was writing in a large notebook, but looked up when Susan entered the room.

“Hi.”

“Where are the twins? Chrissy?”

“All three are upstairs asleep. In fact, I think this is the first time all three of them have been asleep at the same time since I started this job. We spent a few hours unwrapping baby gifts and it wore everyone out. I decided to take advantage of the calm to make sure the names of the givers and the gifts were recorded. Chrissy said she wanted to start writing thank-you notes as soon as possible.”

“That’s probably a good idea,” Susan said, removing a few stuffed animals from Clue’s reach.

“Your daughter must be very popular. I don’t think I’ve ever known anyone to get so many baby presents.”

“Well, of course, being twins there are two presents for every one.” She glanced at the gifts. “What is that?” she asked, indicating a pile of patterned cotton that seemed familiar.

“Baby clothes. Apparently dressing up your baby as though he-or she-is going off to war is the latest thing in New York City.” Shannon held up two tiny rompers made of camouflage-patterned fabric.

Susan wasn’t quite sure what to say. “Well, at least they’re not discriminating between the sexes.”

“I suppose you could say that for them,” Shannon agreed. “To tell the truth, it’s about the only thing positive I can think of to say. I think children should be children as long as possible and not miniature military officers…”

“Or gangster rappers,” Susan finished holding up a pair of baggy baby jeans.

Shannon grinned. “At least there’s lots of room for diapers.”

Susan laughed and then changed the subject. “I was over on Perry Island this afternoon.”

Shannon ’s smile vanished and she looked down at the page she had filled with names and addresses. “And?”

“And I met a new woman, one of the residents. Her name’s Sally Worth.”

“Sally was one of my favorite residents, along with Carolyn Breen. And Carolyn was killed…”

“Well, Sally and I talked for a bit and she told me about this young man who a lot of people at the Center think might be the killer…” She paused, waiting for Shannon ’s reaction.

The nurse didn’t look up and said only one word. “Mike.”

“Yes. Mike Armstrong. She also said he is your cousin.”

Shannon nodded. “My favorite cousin.” she said. Then she took a deep breath and began her explanation.

KATHLEEN AND SUSAN WERE STANDING OUTSIDE OF DONALD Baines Executive Homes, pretending to examine photographs of homes for sale as they exchanged information.

“ Shannon didn’t hesitate for a moment when I mentioned Mike Armstrong. She said he’s her cousin… her favorite cousin… and she admitted that she’s worried about him,” Susan explained, as she peered at a huge stucco home with such a variety of sizes and shapes of windows it could have served as a display for the Pella Windows Company.

“Does she think he might be the murderer?” Kathleen asked.

“She claims to believe his story that while he did steal some of the residents’ belongings, he never harmed anyone in any way. She described him as sweet, if somewhat confused.”

“Back when I was a cop, I heard that type of thing said by relatives of mass murderers,” Kathleen said.

“But Sally, the resident who told me about Mike, said the same thing about him-in different words, but the idea was the same. And she gave me the impression of being a very astute individual.”

“Susan, she’s in a nursing home.”

“I know, but she really impressed me. In fact, she’s not the only one. Her friend was funny and bright as well.”

“Well, I hope you and I are like them when we get older,” Kathleen said and then returned to the subject. “What exactly did Shannon say about her cousin?”

“She said he had been in trouble with the law a few years ago and left P.I.C.C. because he was afraid the police would see his record and not bother looking further for a suspect.”

“What sort of trouble?”

“Well, Shannon mentioned graffiti, but Sally Worth suspects that he used drugs.”

“Strange that a nursing home would hire someone with a police record.”

“I wondered about that too, and I asked Shannon if her cousin was hired because he was related to her. I thought I was being subtle, but she knew exactly what I was thinking. She told me that Mike was considered because he was a relative, but that he had been completely honest about his past and that the administration at P.I.C.C. had felt that he deserved a second chance.”

“Really? There aren’t any laws about that sort of thing?”

“What sort of laws?” Susan asked.

“Well, you’re not allowed to hire people with police records to work in schools, are you? All the employees are fingerprinted and have to go through a background check.”

“Children aren’t the same as the old people.”

“No, but many of the elderly are at least as vulnerable as children. When I was working in the Bronx, I was shocked by the number of crimes against senior citizens. And a lot of incidents were never reported.”

Susan looked over and saw a scowl marring her friend’s beautiful face. “Bad memories?”

“Sort of. And a bit of guilt.”

“Guilt? What do you have to feel guilty about?”

“I was helping people then. And I felt particularly good when I worked on cases of elder abuse. Sometimes I feel as though I’ve abandoned them.”

“Kathleen…”

“You know my grandmother raised me…”

Susan nodded. Friends for over a decade, the two women had spent many hours discussing their lives.

“And did a good job of it, if I do say so myself. She was old, but she was healthy and strong. Not everyone is lucky enough to age like she did,” Kathleen added. “When I was working I saw a lot of old people who needed protecting. And I was helping do just that until… well, until I moved here, got married, and gave up police work.” She shook her head and her long blond hair shimmered.

“You’re raising two fine children.”

“I’m not questioning the value of my life now. I’m just wondering if perhaps I should get more involved, be more hands-on or something.” She paused and Susan waited patiently for her to continue. “Maybe do some volunteer work outside of the schools.”