"I don't usually do mornings," Renie responded. "I don't think you do either. It's a St. Valentine's wreath. I see red hearts, white cupids, and a small mailbox, presumably for love notes. Cute, in a pedestrian sort of way. Probably handmade. I'd have used a different approach if I'd designed this thing."

"Maybe now it's for condolence notes," Judith said somberly. She rang the bell, which chimed what sounded like the first few notes of the old song "Ebb Tide."

Katie, encumbered by a small boy hanging on to her left leg, opened the door. "Oh! Mrs. . . . I forget!"

Judith gently reminded her of her and Renie's first names. "If you've met our aunt and uncle," she said as they entered the house, "you know we don't come from a very formal family."

Katie disengaged the toddler. "I met your aunt once," she said, leading them into an overly furnished living room. The older boy was playing with a brightly colored contraption that had several flashing lights and emitted peculiar whooping noises. "That's Josh, the younger one's Brad," Katie shouted, indicating the cousins should sit on the sofa.

Judith and Renie both hesitated, noting the cushions were almost completely covered with throw pillows, many of which seemed to have been decorated by hand.

"Mom's getting dressed," Katie went on while the cousins tried to arrange themselves into somewhat precarious positions. "Even with the pills, she had trouble sleeping. But she finally settled down around three o'clock and she slept in until almost nine thirty. My parents have always been early risers. Dad usually took a beach walk every morning and afternoon." Her face crumpled slightly. "Coffee?"

"No, thanks," Judith said, still trying to get reasonably comfortable. "We've had plenty of coffee at home," she added, noting that Brad was trying to commandeer some part of the multifaceted toy from his brother. Josh pushed him away. Brad started to cry and rushed to his mother, who had sat down in a rocking chair.

"Boys," Katie said in a plaintive voice. "Please share. And take your Wobble-Dobblemobile into the bedroom."

"No!" Josh shouted.

"No!" Brad squealed.

"Hey," Renie said, getting off the sofa and dislodging a couple of pillows that tumbled to the floor. "That's good. You guys can agree on something. Let's haul this thing somewhere so I can see how it works. Where should we go? I'm lost."

To Judith's surprise-and Katie's obvious relief-Josh hefted the toy and led the way out of the room and into the kitchen.

"My cousin raised two boys-and a girl," Judith explained. "I only have one son."

"Dad bought them the Wobble-Dobble," Katie said. "They love it. Oh-here's Mom."

Edna Glover didn't fit the preconceived matronly image of Ernie's wife that Judith had in mind. She was a slim, fairly tall woman with fine features and a graying dark pageboy haircut. Her widow's weeds consisted of blue jeans, a white cable-knit sweater worn over what looked like a tailored shirt, and black suede boots with a dash of fringe. The fine facial lines indicated she could be sixty or so, but except for a slight limp, she could have passed for ten years younger.

"Hello," she said, putting out her hand. "I overheard some of what you two were saying. You're the Webers' niece?"

"Yes." Judith noticed that the joints in Edna's hands were slightly swollen, no doubt from arthritis. "We-my cousin Renie is with your grandsons-wanted to convey our sympathy in your loss. I know Auntie Vance and Uncle Vince will be very upset about Mr. Glover's death."

Edna sat down in a straight-backed chair by the small fireplace. "It's a horrible shock. There's nothing I can say that conveys my reaction. I'm utterly stupefied. It's as if there's no rational explanation."

"It's all this violence, Mom," Katie said. "We live in a dangerous world. And too many people have untreated mental disorders. You know this has to be a random act."

Edna's dark eyes sparked at her daughter. "Is that supposed to make me feel better? You can't dismiss death."

"I know, but . . ." Katie looked away.

"There are tragedies that seem inexplicable," Edna went on, "but that hardly lessens their impact." Her gaze shifted to Judith. "You're in my peer group. Do you agree?"

"Of course," Judith replied. "But are you implying a crazed stranger killed your husband?"

"Does it matter?" Edna rubbed her hands, massaging her knuckles. "I forgot. You and the other niece found Ernie. What was your first thought?"

Judith was taken aback. She could hardly tell the truth and say, Oh, damn! Not another stiff!

"We thought he'd had a heart attack," Judith said. "He was facedown, so we had no idea he'd been stabbed. We only found out later."

Edna's face was very earnest. "Then what did you think?"

Judith didn't dare give voice to what flashed through her mind: Damn, this time I'd better not screw up on fingering the perp. "I wondered who'd done it," she replied solemnly.

Edna frowned. "You did? That's odd."

Katie finally found her voice. "No, Mom. I think that's a natural reaction. Even if it's some head case or druggie, it still matters."

"Of course it matters," Edna said. "But only in legal and moral terms. The one thing we can be sure of is that it was a stranger. Everybody liked my husband, despite any common gossip you might hear to the contrary. People distort the smallest disagreements, especially over such things as a sewer-plan proposal. Ernie's integrity was absolute. It had to be, given his many years as a state auditor. He was well respected by his peers."

Judith didn't want to argue. "That must be a comfort," she murmured, getting up from the cluttered sofa. "By the way, do you do crafts? You have so many lovely pillows."

Edna also got to her feet. "I used to do many things I can't do now with my arthritis. Embroidery, crochet, knitting, decoupage." She shrugged. "It's very frustrating. Time literally lies heavy on my hands."

"I'm sorry," Judith said, beginning to feel redundant. "I must let my cousin know . . ." She stopped as Renie came into the living room. "Here she is now."

Katie rose from the rocker. "Where are the boys? They're so quiet."

"Valium," Renie said. "Works every time. They'll come to in a few hours. Bye." She headed for the door, seemingly oblivious to Katie's shriek and Edna's aghast expression.

"I guess I'd better go," Judith said, hurrying after her cousin while calling out farewells to the Glover women. She caught up with Renie on the road. "You're horrid! Did you really give them Valium?"

"Hardly. I had them play Log, like Bill did with our kids on long car trips. It worked, at least for some sixty miles of peace and-"

"Stop!" Judith poked Renie. "What did you really do to those boys?"

"I just told you. They did what our kids did when they played Log-they went to sleep. I couldn't stand the racket that awful Wobble thing made. Just to make sure, I took out the batteries." She winced. "Damn. They're still in my pocket. Oh, well."

Judith shook her head. "Did you listen in on our conversation?" she asked as they headed back up the hill.

"Yes, Edna's a piece of work. She still embroiders. One of those pillows was dated Christmas of this last year. She's higher than a kite, too, in my opinion. I haven't seen so many antidepressants since I got a little too rambunctious at our HMO's pharmacy and vaulted over the counter to get my allergy pills."

"Really?" Judith felt stupid for not suspecting Edna might be taking more than a sleeping pill or two. "They were in the kitchen?"

Renie nodded. "I wanted to check the bathroom, but I was afraid I'd get caught. I'll bet Edna's cranked up most of the time. I doubt they ever have company. There's no room for guests."

"I agree," Judith said. "Katie talked about how many friends her dad had made in the last year or so. She didn't mention her mother."

"True," Renie agreed, stopping by the Webers' mailbox next to the road. "I'll grab the paper, you get the mail."

"Mostly junk," Judith murmured, flipping through the small stack. "No delivery yet today. The flag's still up. Or do I mean down?"

"No idea," Renie said, starting up to the deck. "Too rural for me. I haven't seen a postal van yet, though. Do you want to drive into Langton and have lunch?"

"Lunch?" Judith checked her watch. "It's not yet eleven."

"We could shop and then eat," Renie said. "I'm getting hungry."

"Oh . . . why not? It's always kind of fun to browse the shops."

The cousins reached the front door. Judith paused to look out across the Sound. "It'd be nice if the clouds would lift enough so we could see the mountains over on the Peninsula."

"I think they're still there," Renie said. "You do have the padlock keys, right?"

"Yes." Judith dug them out of her pocket. "Having this thing outside must make us look like a couple of alarmists."

"Well? Unless a random nut really did get loose, there is a murderer somewhere in the vicinity. I realize that's not a new concept for us, but it doesn't hurt to be cautious."

"I know," Judith said as they went inside. "I just hate to advertise the fact." She set the mail down on the kitchen counter. "Circulars, real estate come-ons, travel brochures, a senior-citizen flyer, AARP insurance offers, the Public Utility District bill-I'd better save that one." She set the envelope aside. "More senior activities. That's it."

"Shall we head on out?" Renie asked.

Judith hesitated. "Let's wait until it's closer to noon. You'll want to eat as soon as we get there and I'm not hungry."

Renie made a face. "Okay. I'll read the newspaper. I'm glad the Webers still get a real paper from a real city."

"They like keeping up with the city's news," Judith said, gazing out the front window. "It's clearing off. I can see almost across the Sound. Several people are on the beach and two-no-three more are walking along the roads. I guess these folks go outside when the weather's decent. Maybe I'll take a little stroll to work off my breakfast."

Before Renie could respond, a phone rang. "Is that my cell or yours?" Judith asked.

"Not my ring," Renie replied, her eyes glued to the Times' front page. Judith went to the kitchen counter and reached into her purse to dig out her cell.

"It's three in the morning and I can't sleep," Joe announced. "The seventeen-hour time change has thrown Bill and me for a loop. Are you really hang gliding over Mount Woodchuck? That's what your gruesome mother told me. Where are you?"

"Whoopee Island," Judith said a little breathlessly. She was surprised at how thrilled she was to hear her husband's voice. "We're house-sitting for Auntie Vance and Uncle Vince. They're in Beatrice, helping Aunt Ellen and Uncle Win. She had shoulder surgery. Except for not sleeping, are you having fun?"

"We really are," Joe said. "It's light tackle season as you may recall, which means we can't start fishing until later in the afternoon. We've had some action off the jetty, but tomorrow-that's Monday here-we'll spend two nights at sea, probably around Lizard Island."

Judith grimaced. "That sounds a little creepy."

Joe chuckled. "Not even close. It's beautiful around here. We swim in the mornings and we'll try snorkeling today. The people are great, the food's terrific, the weather's balmy. It's all worth losing a little sleep. What are you two doing on The Rock?"

Judith's initial euphoria had waned. "Well . . . we've met a lot of people. We'll have lunch in Langton, maybe at the place above the variety store. Then we'll browse the shops that aren't closed during the winter."

Joe chuckled again. "That sounds . . . good. Too bad you can't find a dead body. As I recall from visiting up there, some of the residents looked as if they were already dead."

"They aren't all old," Judith asserted. "Renie and I spent time this morning with small children."

"What happened? Did their parents take a wrong turn?"

Judith started to say something waspish, but didn't want to quarrel from half a world away. "Never mind," she said. "I take it Bill's enjoying himself, too?"

"What's not to enjoy?" Joe retorted. "Bill's sorry Oscar isn't here, though I guess the little guy gets seasick. It's probably just as well he stayed home."

That comment almost sent Judith over the edge. If Joe had bought into the Oscar mythology, maybe he should stay on Lizard Island. "I'd better let you go," she said, before I feel like locking you out of the house when you get back. "You should get to sleep so you'll feel fresh when you and Bill go snorkeling tomorrow."

"That's today here," Joe reminded her. "But you're right. Tell Renie Bill says hi. Stay safe." He rang off.

Renie looked up from the newspaper. "They're having a wonderful time," she stated. "I can tell by the sour look on your face. Spare me. I don't want to hear about it. It'd make me even madder than you are."

"I don't want to repeat it," Judith countered. "I'll walk it off. You want to come along?"

Renie shook her head. "I'm not that fond of walking in general. You get rid of your snit while I finish reading the news."

"Fine." Judith put on her jacket. "Lock up-but don't lock me out."

"Use a code word so I know it's you," Renie said, still hiding behind the Times. "Oscar will do."

Judith didn't say anything before going outside. A freighter was halfway across the Sound, heading north. She'd walked more than halfway to the beach steps when she saw a frail, fair-haired woman carrying a canvas bag coming up the hill toward her. "Hi," she called to the stranger. "How are you this morning?"

The woman stopped some twenty feet away, eyeing Judith suspiciously. "Who are you this morning?" She clasped the bag to her breast. Then she screamed and ran back down the hill.

Chapter 9.

Judith stood still, her dark eyes following the woman's frantic path. She veered right onto the last road before the beach, disappearing by a drab-green one-story house. It was pointless to follow her, especially if she was seeking sanctuary at her home. All of the half-dozen modest dwellings just above the beach had been built early on in the development of Obsession Shores.

By the time Judith reached the steps leading to the beach, she could see all the way across the water to the mountains on the mainland. Farther south, a ferry glided from the Peninsula to the landing just north of the city. As seagulls cried and swooped above the great swath of wet, sandy beach, Heraldsgate Hill seemed very far away. Judith involuntarily shivered.

"Well, well!" a male voice called out, making her jump. "If it isn't the house-sitter. Looking for another dead body?"

Trying to regain her composure, Judith turned around to attempt a smile for Brose Bennett. "Hi," she said. "I'd rather not do that again." At least not here. "Were you at the meeting last night?"

Brose nodded. "Last to come, first to go. Bunch of bull crap. Fou-fou stayed home. She hates meetings. Don't blame her. You going down to the beach? The tide'll be all the way out in another hour. You never know what might wash up next." He chuckled.

"I think I'll stay up here," Judith said. "I understand you found a rare coin a few weeks ago. Have you had it checked out by a collector?"

Brose shook his head. "There's an old guy in Langton who knows something about old coins, but I'll take it into the city, where I can get a real expert. You know-somebody who's more up-to-date and in touch with big-time collectors."

"Did you use a metal detector?" Judith asked, noting that a couple of children were walking with an adult near the boathouse.

"Nope, but I'm getting me one," Brose said, brushing at the graying brown hair that was blowing in disarray. A breeze had suddenly come down from the north. "I ordered it from the Internet. It should be here today or Monday."

"So you just spotted the coin lying on the beach?" Judith asked.

"Not quite." Brose tugged at the collar of his all-weather jacket. "I was looking for clam holes. Saw a rock that looked kind of interesting-I like to collect 'em to put around the garden. When I picked it up, there was the coin, plain as day. Kind of worn around the edges, though."

"Do you think someone dropped it?" Judith asked, then quickly added, "Recently, I mean."