I said, "But the question I want to ask you, June, is this: Why do you believe my investigating your brother Eric's murder and these apparent attempts on Janet's life would necessarily lead me into Osborne family affairs?"

"Oh," she said, and then had to think about this. "I didn't mean to say that you'd be probing into the entire family's affairs. Just Eric's and Janet's."

"But Eric is dead and Janet is my client, so what's the problem?"

June just stared at me, but Bates came to her rescue again in what seemed to be the only way he knew: He perspired energetically in his seersucker jacket—the temperature had to be in the mid-eighties—and he puffed himself up and fumed. "Osborne family matters are intertwined," Bates declared. "An investigation into the affairs of any one Osborne necessarily will impinge upon the business of other family members for whom discretion may be valued highly. The situation is

not nearly so simple as you are making it out to be, Mr. Strachey. It is complex and demands attention to the opinions of others."

Dale said, "What do you mean the 'business' of other family members, Parson?"

"I don't catch your drift."

"You said an investigation into the affairs of any one Osborne necessarily will impinge upon the 'business' of other family members. By business, do you mean the Herald?"

"Not the Herald in particular," Bates sniffed. "Have you drawn that inference? Be assured, no such implication was intended."

Janet said, "The thing of it is, Parson, that with Eric dead and if I were dead, it's almost certain that the Herald would be sold to Crewes-InfoCom and not Griscomb. So anybody investigating Eric's murder and attempts on my life would naturally want to look into the family business and its current turmoil. Catch my drift?"

Now June bridled. "Janet, what do you mean by that?"

"I mean that the people with a motive to see me and Eric dead are the people who want to sell the Herald to InfoCom and the people at InfoCom who want to buy the paper. If you were the investigator and you were considering motives to murder Eric and me, isn't that what you would look at first?"

"But, my lord, Janet! Can you seriously consider that someone in the family would ever do such a thing?" June looked aghast as she said this, and then something seemed to hit her, and she looked aghast a second time.

"For chrissakes, June, the family tree is ripe with violent nut cases," Janet said. "Would you like me to recite them for you?"

"That won't be necessary. But the people you're talking about now, Janet—the family members you evidently regard as under suspicion of murder—these people are not troubled individuals like Cousin Graham or Uncle Edmund or even Craig. You can only be referring to ... to me and to Dick and to Chester and . . . and to Tidy! Janet, how could you even think such a thing!"

Dale said, "June, chill out. Janet is just explaining why Don might have to do some sniffing around in the Osborne dirty laundry. Don't forget that under our system of criminal justice, you and Dick are innocent until proven guilty. Of course, if you decide to retain a cracker-jack criminal lawyer, that's up to you."

June bit her lip, but Bates could no longer contain his indignation, "Dale, your infernal flippancy is . . . out of place!"

"I thought it was perfectly placed myself. It's the Osbornes trying to save the soul of the Herald who are getting knocked off, not the Osbornes who are willing to sell out a hundred years of great journalism in order to turn a quick profit. My flippancy pales next to their greed."

June's eyes flashed with anger. "Dale, you certainly are trying everyone's patience today," she said, edging toward her Buick "And I think Parson and I had better be on our way before one of us says something he or she later regrets. And Janet, I do believe you would be wise to take your family murder plot ideas and run them by Stu Torkildson before you go to the police and start a lot of talk that can only do untold damage to the entire family. Try to be a little farsighted, will you? Or," June said, with a look of fresh alarm, "have you already gone blabbing outside the family?"

"Not yet," Janet said.

"Good. Mr. Strachey, I guess we'll all have to depend on your discretion, like Parson says. Why don't you arrange to have a talk with Stu Torkildson too? He's the Osbornes' business adviser of many years, and when it comes to sensitive situations, Stu is a rock."

"He could look up, for example," Dale said to me, "if anybody in the family has signed a recent contract with Murder, Inc."

I said, "Isn't Torkildson the man who came up with the investment idea that forced the Herald into such deep debt that you're now forced to sell the paper? You mean he's still around?"

Dale gave me a look that said, "Now you're catching on," and Janet watched us all benignly.

It was Parson Bates who blurted out, "Your gall, Mr. Strachey, is exceeded only by the depth of your misinformation. The Herald's financial difficulties were caused not by poor judgment, but by changing circumstances no one could have foreseen. Not even Stu Torkildson, a man of keen mind and Christian probity, could have predicted a recession and a one-hundred-twenty-five percent increase in newsprint costs. I take strong exception to your maligning this man of character."

I said, "I thought the company's sixteen-million-dollar debt was the result of a risky, grandiose resort project that didn't pan out and had to be sold at a huge loss. I wasn't suggesting that Torkildson was wicked, just vainglorious and dumb."

"Yes, that's the conventional wisdom on the Herald's troubles," Bates said. "But the truth of the matter is a good deal more complex, I can assure you."

"Clue me in on the complexities. I'm all ears."

Bates was about to speak when June cut him off. "Perhaps we could rehash the Herald's troubles another time, Mr. Strachey, but not just now. Parson and I really must be on our way. It was a pleasure to meet you, and it was nice to see you too, Dale. Janet, keep me posted on this awful Jet Ski business. I do hope it's not what you seem to think it is. Losing Eric was horrible enough, and none of us in the family wants you to be run over and drowned, Janet, no matter what you might think of us. And, of course, another murder would just kill Mom." At this, June let loose with a hysterical giggle, and yelped, "Oh, what in heaven's name am I saying!"

"Well, what are you saying?" Dale asked, but June had turned in confusion and was climbing into her car.

"Good luck!" June sang out wackily, and Bates lowered himself into June's Buick beside her, sniffing and throwing eye darts at us, like in the funnies. The car eased around us and cruised out into Maple Street and away.

After we watched the car go, Janet said dryly, "Don, you probably think June's looniness is atypical among the Osbornes."

I said, "No, don't forget that I've met your brother too."

"Right."

"Who's the reverend?"

"He's not a reverend. Parson Bates is his name. He's a local pear farmer, antique spats dealer, and the neo-con columnist for the Herald. Dad always believed that in a one-newspaper town like Edens-burg the paper had a responsibility to give opposing voices a forum, provided that their bigotry is at least thinly veiled, which Parson's generally is."