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"Pulease." Mrs. Murphy held up her paw as Harry wiped it.

"Yeah, pulease." Tucker drew out "please" even more.

"Mock me if you must." Pewter sniffed.

Harry opened the back door. "It's me."

"Den," Susan called out.

The three animals rushed in, greeting Owen, Susan's corgi and Tucker's brother, followed by Harry.

"Where is everybody?"

"Ned took Brooks to Barnes Noble after church. He promised her a book if she made an A in her last history test and she did. And once there you know she'll drag him to Old Navy and they'll have to check out the shoe stores and then he'll pop into the clothing store. Ned has more ties than David Letterman, I swear. The shopping will exhaust them. So they'll eat at Hot Cakes or maybe Bodo's. I'll get a loaf of bread from Our Daily Bread. Ain't motherhood grand?"

"Susan, shut up!"

"What?"

"Mychelle Burns has been killed. Her body was found at the Clam. Stabbed."

"What! You waited all this time to tell me?"

"I couldn't get a word in edgewise."

"Mother can talk," Owen laconically said.

"Can't they all?" Tucker agreed with her brother.

"I brought you a doughnut. We've got figuring to do."

Harry, knowing Susan's house as well as her own, walked over to the writing desk, picked up a tablet and a pencil.

"If I'm going to eat this doughnut, I'll perish from sugar shock. I'll make us sandwiches, then we can eat the doughnut."

"Susan, later. Come on. Look at this." She rapidly drew a sketch of the Clam, the parking lot, and a cutaway view of the interior of the Clam.

"Harry, you brought coffee but you didn't bring me any?"

"Oh-I'm sorry. I didn't think of that."

"Selfish." Susan walked to the kitchen, returning with a large mug of coffee. She sat next to Harry on the leather chesterfield sofa.

"Okay. Here's where H.H. fell down. X marks the spot. There are broom closets on each floor but if I remember correctly, the first one going in from the main doors is about here." She made another X. "I wonder if the killer works at the Clam."

"Honey, I hate to cast stones at your theory but I don't think where they were found matters. The question is why."

"I know that!" Harry got testy. "But wouldn't you agree that two deaths, murders, right here and here practically back to back are frightening-and probably connected."

"How'd you find out?"

"Coop tracked down Tazio and me after church."

"What's Tazio got to do with it?"

"Nothing except that Mychelle cornered her at the Mountain View Grille"-Harry named the restaurant-"and told her she wanted a meeting with her right then. This was yesterday. Tazio declined nicely and Mychelle became un-nice. Her specialty. Said that Tazio better see her first thing Monday morning. Tazio assumed it had to do with some code violation. I was right there with Fair and Herb. Anyway, we all saw it. Mychelle left, her pout intact."

"Speak no ill of the dead."

"Oh, I just can't be that big of a hypocrite." Harry dismissed the ancient protective phrase.

"I can't resist." Susan reached for the doughnut.

"Me, me, me," Pewter cried piteously.

"That's why I bought this extra doughnut." Harry divided it into four pieces which irritated Pewter who tried to steal Mrs. Murphy's, receiving a box on the ears for her efforts.

Susan savored the delicious glaze. "If Mychelle was the woman behind H.H.'s-"

"Already thought of that. Only one person has a motive under those circumstances. Anne Donaldson."

"I can't believe Anne would kill her husband and then Mychelle."

"People are totally irrational about what we call 'love.' I call it 'mutual psychosis.'?"

"Bull."

"I need to trace Anne's activities."

"Like hell you do. That's Rick and Coop's job, and if you've thought of it, you can rest assured they've thought of it. And furthermore, Harry, it's in bad taste snooping around Anne."

"Not if she killed them."

"She didn't."

"Who died and made you God? Since when do you know the unknowable?"

"I know Anne."

"Listen, Susan, she was sitting smack next to him at the game. She could have easily slipped him the toxin, not poison, but toxin, or scratched his neck where the tiny puncture was, is. I suppose it's still there. I mean, he won't decay for some time."

"That is the most gruesome thought." Susan made a face.

"Well, the embalmers load them up depending on the viewing time, the temperature, I guess they factor in stuff like that. And even though he's in the ground he's still intact. That's all I was saying."

"How can you think of stuff like that?"

"I just do. And you do, too. It might take you longer."

"Thank you," Susan dryly replied.

"I don't mean it that way. You're smarter than I am."

"You went to Smith, I didn't."

"That's neither here nor there. Our minds work differently. That's why we're best friends."

"Is that it? I always wondered." Susan's good humor was restored.

"Anyway, she could have so easily done him in and we'd never, ever know. About Mychelle, well, not an elegant murder. Sloppy."

"God, it is ghastly. The murders are so different, in execution, I mean, it's quite possible they were committed by two different people."

Harry replied, "That's logical but I know in my bones that H.H.'s and Mychelle's murders are connected. I've even thought that H.H. might owe money from gambling."

"That's a different kettle of fish and if this is somehow connected to college sports, there will be a lot more dead bodies. Those rings are very well organized. Hundreds of thousands of dollars change hands."

"And the playoffs are right around the corner."

Susan reached in the white bag. "Damn."

"What?"

"I wanted another doughnut."

"I'm sorry. You're always moaning about losing weight. I don't know why. You look just fine."

"You haven't seen me naked lately." Susan laughed.

"No. Should we hit the showers?"

"Hey, golf and tennis season will be here before you know it. Do you want to see me walking through the ladies' locker room, a towel wrapped around me, looking like the great white whale?"

"Susan, you exaggerate."

"A tad." She clasped her hands together. "But now I can't get the thought of another doughnut out of my mind and I have all this correspondence to catch up on." She pointed to a tottering pile on the desk. She thought about sneaking a cigarette to curb her appetite but dismissed that remedy. The doughnut was proving a more powerful temptation.

"Come on. We can pick up more doughnuts. Hey, we could go to Krispy Kreme."

Susan shook her finger at her. "You know how I love those doughnuts. Not fair."

As the humans and animals piled into Susan's station wagon, Mrs. Murphy said, "The secret of success is to watch the doughnut, not the hole."

23

What do you mean she's dead? She can't be dead. She's supposed to be in my office tomorrow at eleven!" Fred Forrest shouted at the sheriff.

His wife, Lorraine, hurried back into the living room. She'd left her husband alone with the sheriff and his deputy but hearing his raised voice she thought he might need her. Fred possessed a terrible temper.

"Fred, honey?"

He turned to her. "Mychelle is dead. They say Mychelle is dead." He was standing in front of his chair, having bolted up the minute he got the bad news.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Forrest." Rick was standing in front of her.

"Sit down, Sheriff. Fred, you should have asked the sheriff and Deputy Cooper to sit down. Please." She motioned to both of them to have a seat. "Now, Fred, you just take a deep breath. Sit down, honey."

He remained on his feet. "I don't believe it."

"I'm afraid it's true." Cooper's voice was steady.

Finally Fred submitted to his wife's tugging and dropped into his chair.

"Would you like me to go, Sheriff?"

"No. Perhaps you'll be able to help us, Mrs. Forrest."

She perched on the edge of the large, cushy chair next to Fred's La-Z-Boy.