Talia followed her sister into the wide, dimly lit hallway with its thick carpet and imitation-Venetian chandeliers. There were letter boards beside the double doors, indicating which of the deceased rested in that room. Between the double doorways were thickly padded faux-leather benches where people could sit for a while and escape the grief of the other mourners, the cloying smell of the funeral flowers, or the sight of the departed.

Shelby went down the hall until she located the Columbus room. She gestured for Talia, who was hanging back near the doors to the vestibule, to join her. Reluctantly, Talia shuffled over to her sister.

‘I’m not staying here for long,’ Talia said in a normal speaking voice that was startling in the hush of the funeral home.

‘We don’t have to stay long,’ said Shelby. ‘Just speak to the family and sit for a few minutes.’

‘I don’t want to.’ Talia squirmed like a child. ‘You made me do this.’

‘Just take it easy,’ said Shelby. ‘It’s rude to be in too big of a hurry.’

Shelby led the way. The room had folding chairs which were set up to accommodate a crowd of a hundred or more. There was no need for that many chairs tonight at the viewing of Bud Ridley. There were about a dozen people scattered in the front few rows, in pairs or groups of three or four.

The open casket was at the front of the room, flanked by gladioli in urns. In the front row, facing the casket, Peggy, Faith, and Faith’s husband, whom Shelby recognized from the wedding picture in Peggy’s house, were seated, wearing black. Shelby gestured to Talia to follow her, and they went down the side aisle and walked up to the casket. Shelby looked in at Bud. It was hard to believe that she had seen him alive just the day before. The undertaker had liberally pancaked his face and neck so that his complexion was an orangey-pink, and the bruises around his neck were minimized. The embalmed body looked like a life-size, homely doll, lying stiffly on a bed of satin.

You killed my daughter, Shelby thought, looking at him. Your suicide is the proof. She closed her eyes for a moment, as if she were praying, and took a deep breath.

Talia glanced at the body and then turned away. She walked over to Faith and stiffly muttered ‘Sorry, Faith.’

Shelby turned around.

‘Oh, Dr Winter, how nice of you to come. This is my husband, Brian. And this is my mom.’

Talia grimaced as she shook hands with each of them. Peggy was slump-shouldered, her face puffy from weeping. She greeted Talia politely, wiping her eyes with a balled-up Kleenex.

Talia hastily excused herself, and took a seat halfway to the back of the room. She indicated to Shelby that she should hurry up about it. Shelby ignored her sister. She greeted Faith, who seemed surprised and almost flustered to see her again. She murmured her condolences to Faith and her husband, and then moved on to Peggy.

Peggy grasped both of Shelby’s hands in her own. ‘Shelby,’ she said wearily. ‘It’s so good of you to come.’

‘Well, it seems that we’ve both suffered a terrible loss lately.’

Peggy shook her head. ‘I don’t how you get through the day,’ she said.

Shelby hesitated, and then sat down in the chair beside Peggy’s. She knew very well that Bud had not told his wife about her visit – she would have bet anything on that. Still, she thought Peggy might find her presence odd; after all, she was virtually a stranger. But it was not as if there were a line of mourners behind her, and Peggy seemed to welcome the opportunity to stop counting the people who had, and had not, showed up this first evening.

‘What a shock this has been for you,’ Shelby murmured sympathetically.

Peggy dabbed at her eyes. ‘Oh, that’s for sure.’

‘He didn’t give you any indication?’ Shelby asked. She was relying on the fact that Peggy was a garrulous woman, and she knew that most people welcomed an opportunity to exorcise their misery by recounting it, over and over.

Peggy sighed. ‘Well, as I told you, he was depressed. I mean, anyone would be with that diagnosis, but he wasn’t even showing many signs of the illness yet. Hardly at all.’ She glanced over at her husband’s body in his coffin and shook her head. ‘To look at him, you’d think he was the picture of health.’

Shelby murmured agreement. She knew that she had to try and walk the line between sounding concerned, and overly curious. She had to pose each question carefully. ‘Did he say or do anything that would make you think he might . . .’

‘No. No, of course not,’ said Peggy. ‘If he had . . .’ Peggy shook her head and started weeping again.

Shelby felt a little bit cruel to be pressing this distraught woman. But she reminded herself that Bud Ridley had been her enemy. He had killed Chloe. And, in truth, Peggy seemed content to be speaking about her late husband. All too soon, people would avoid mentioning his name to her. Shelby persisted.

‘Did he leave a note, anything like that?’

‘That’s the horrible part,’ Peggy confided. ‘He did. He said . . .’ Peggy had to collect herself. Then she continued. ‘He said he couldn’t live with himself. As if he was somehow to blame for this. I mean, it’s an illness. It wasn’t his fault. I know he worried about me having to try to care for him as it got worse. I know that. But I never would have blamed him.’ Once again, Peggy was weeping.

‘Of course not,’ Shelby murmured. He couldn’t live with himself. That wasn’t about the illness, Shelby thought grimly. He couldn’t live with himself because he threw an innocent girl off of a cruise ship for gain.

Shelby felt almost guilty about continuing. But not guilty enough to retreat. ‘I hope the insurance pays up. I’ve heard that they can be miserable about paying when a person commits suicide. And at a time like this, you don’t want to be worried about money.’

Peggy was not a woman given to secrets and circumspection. ‘Oh no, we’ve had this policy for years. Of course it doesn’t amount to much. Once we pay for the funeral . . . Well, there won’t be anything left.’

‘Really?’ Shelby asked. Her face flamed as she posed the question. It was none of her business and she knew it, but she was asking anyway. If Bud had enjoyed a big payday for throwing her Chloe overboard, surely he would have let his wife know where to find the money. After all, it was not as if he had been hit by a car. He had done this deliberately. He had the time and the foresight to leave his wife access to all that money before he took his life.

‘Nothing,’ said Peggy. ‘In fact, I’m gonna have to sell the house and move in with Faith and Brian. If I can find a buyer. I tell you, Shelby, it’s a nightmare. I don’t know what I’m gonna do. Really, I don’t.’

This isn’t getting me anywhere, Shelby thought. The suicide’s implicit admission of guilt made it seem as if the mystery of Chloe’s death was almost solved. But now his wife maintains there is no money? A contract killing costs more than the price of two cruise tickets. And it was only weeks ago. Bud couldn’t have spent it all before he died. Or could he? Did he have a secret mistress, or a love child? And then she thought of that shrine to Faith in their living room. No. It was much simpler than that. Peggy and Faith were this man’s whole life. If he had money to leave anyone, he would leave it to them. So where was the money? Shelby’s head was beginning to ache.

‘Excuse me,’ said Talia impatiently, leaning down to speak to Peggy. ‘My sister and I are going to have to leave. My mother needs me.’

Talia’s words made Shelby jump. What are you doing, she thought? But Talia was oblivious to Shelby’s purposes. She was simply not going to put up with this discomfort any longer.

‘Oh, of course,’ said Peggy. She attempted to pat Talia’s hand, but Talia whisked it away. Startled, Peggy was nonetheless gracious. ‘It was very nice of you to come. I know Faith appreciates it, and so do I.’

‘Yes, really,’ Faith whispered. ‘Thank you, Dr Winter.’

‘Get back to work as soon as you can,’ said Talia.

It was possible that Talia was trying to be kind and encouraging, but it sounded like an angry command the way she said it. Faith blanched and looked away. ‘It might take me a little time,’ she said.

Talia frowned. ‘There’s a lot of work to do,’ she said.

‘And you,’ said Peggy, turning to Shelby, who had risen reluctantly to her feet. Peggy took Shelby’s hands in her own. ‘It was brave of you to even come here. After just losing your Chloe like that. It’s such a hard time.’

‘It isn’t easy,’ Shelby admitted.

‘When it’s sudden like this, there are so many things you wished you’d have said. Or done. So many regrets.’

In spite of herself, Shelby felt the tears rising to her own eyes. Tears of sorrow, but also of frustration. She was no farther along than she had been when she first arrived. Just more confused. She nodded. ‘That’s so true,’ she said. ‘But you can’t go back. And second-guessing yourself . . . well, there’s no use in it.’

Peggy’s gaze was far away. ‘His doctor told me that this diagnosis was very difficult to accept. I mean, they’re trying to find a cure and all, but until they do, it was really hopeless. And Bud knew it. His doctor wanted to give him anti-depressants, but Bud wouldn’t hear of it. Said he didn’t want to become dependant on pills. I should have insisted. If only I had insisted. Or recognized the signs.’

Faith put an arm around her mother. ‘Come on, Mom. You can’t blame yourself. Dr Janssen saw him every week. If Dr Janssen didn’t recognize the signs, how could you be expected to know?’

Shelby stared at Faith. ‘Dr Janssen?’

‘Dr Harris Janssen,’ said Peggy proudly. ‘One of the finest neurologists in the country. He treated me when I had my stroke years ago. Saw me every year for a follow-up. So, when Bud started having weakness in his side, and dropping things every now and then, I said to him, let’s go see Dr Janssen. Let’s not wait another minute. Isn’t that right, Faith?’ Peggy asked. Then she looked around the Columbus Room. ‘I wonder if he knows about this. I’m sure he’ll come by to pay his respects if he hears about it. Did you call him, Faith?’

Faith shook her head. ‘I still have a lot of people left to call.’

Peggy shook her head. ‘When I think of how good he was to us.’

‘Come on,’ Talia whispered, nudging Shelby in the side. Shelby ignored her.

‘It’s rare to find a doctor like that.’ Shelby managed to sound impressed.

Peggy nodded solemnly. ‘When I had my stroke, we had no insurance. Dr Janssen . . .’ Peggy pressed her Kleenex to her eyes and sniffed. Then she drew herself up and continued. ‘Never charged us a single dime. Same with Bud. He can’t go on Medicare for two more years. Dr Janssen told Bud he would see him through this illness, until he got on the Medicare. That’s the kind of person he is.’

‘Wow,’ said Shelby, feigning admiration.

‘Of course, I shouldn’t be telling you this.’ Peggy said.

Shelby wondered if her secret thoughts were showing on her face. ‘I’m . . . uh . . . I don’t know why not . . .’

‘Well, he always said to us, “Don’t go telling people that Harris Janssen will treat you for free. I’ll be broke in no time.” Still, it’s unbelievable, isn’t it? In this day and age. For a doctor to be so kind?’

‘Truly,’ said Shelby.

‘I’m sure Dr Janssen will show up,’ said Faith, patting her mother’s knee.

‘There’s a lot of good people in this world,’ said Peggy, her lips trembling. ‘You always have to remember that.’