Darlene batted the piece of muffin away, and did a wonderful impression of an untuned steam calliope.

"Nice kid," Cora said.

Darlene's mother flushed, held out a pacifier. Darlene looked like she might have hurled the thing in the street had her mother stuck it firmly in her mouth.

Cora bent down, said, "What seems to be the trouble?"

Darlene instantly stopped crying, and tried to snatch off Cora's glasses.

"Not so fast, young lady." Cora waggled her finger in front of the baby's face, then smiled at the mother. "You were saying?"

The woman stared at her. "How did you do that?"

Cora shrugged. "She probably recognized me from TV." At the woman's expression, she added, "I'm kidding. Anyway, before she starts up again, what do you want?"

"It seems so stupid...."

"I'll be the judge of that."

"All right. I have to talk to someone. I feel so terrible."

"Why?"

"Deceiving my husband."

Cora practically rubbed her hands together. This was more like it. Instead of feigning interest, she found herself feigning indifference. "Go on."

"He's such a good man. A good husband and father and provider."

"What's his name?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. His name is Chuck. Chuck Dillinger. And I'm Mimi."

"What does Chuck do?"

"He's a lawyer. A malpractice attorney."

"Chuck sues doctors."

"No, he defends them."

"Oh? Is that profitable?"

"Very."

"There's that many lousy doctors?"

"It's not a case of bad doctors. It's a case where, despite the best possible medical attention-"

Cora put up her hand. "Save it for the judge. The point is, Chuck has a lot of clients."

"His firm does. They're on a yearly retainer."

"From a doctor?"

"No. An insurance company."

"Figures."

"Insurance companies get zapped with huge malpractice suits. If Chuck can win even one, he justifies his employment."

"I take it he has no problem doing that."

"Absolutely. Chuck's very clever."

"So he does well?"

"For the firm, sure. He'll do a lot better when he makes partner."

These details were fascinating, but not salacious. "You mentioned deceiving him," Cora prompted.

"Yes. I feel so awful...."

"Of course you do. Why don't you tell me how it happened?" Cora tried not to sound too eager.

"Chuck works in the City. Commutes every day. I drop him off at the train station. Pick him up at night."

"And the rest of the day you're alone."

"Yes. Except for Darlene."

"I think I get the picture."

"It just seems so bad. Him taking the train. And leaving me the car to get around. I didn't mean to lie to him. But I was weak. I couldn't bring myself to tell."

"Why are you telling him now?"

"I have to. I have no choice."

"I think I can help you."

"You can?"

"I don't know. But I'll give it a shot." Cora was all sympathetic encouragement. "It's not the end of the world, you know. You're young. You're foolish. You made a mistake. You'd like to put it behind you and move on. Unfortunately, the young man in question is a jerk. He doesn't want to let you go, and he's blackmailing you. If you break it off, he'll tell your husband. You're terrified the whole thing will come out, but there's no help for it. And if the secret's going to break, the only chance to save your marriage is if you tell it first."

The woman's face twisted in revulsion. "That's terrible !"

"Yes, it is. But it doesn't have to end that way. I've had certain experience in these matters. If you'd like me to have a talk with the young gentleman, I'd be happy to do so." Cora smiled. "He just might change his point of view."

The young mother stooped down and tied the cap onto Darlene's head, as if to keep the baby from hearing the sordid details of Mommy's life. "That's not what I want at all."

"It's not a question of what you want, it's a question of what you can get away with. When your lover's a creep-and, believe me, most of them are creeps-"

The woman shot to her feet. "Damn it!" she cried. "I am not having an affair!"

The Reverend Kimble, heading into the bakeshop, stopped in mid-stride and his mouth fell open. He cleared his throat in embarrassment and said, "Hello, Cora. Hello, Mimi."

Mimi blushed furiously, and readjusted the baby's hat.

"Hey, Rev," Cora said. "You gonna be in later? I need to see you about a wedding."

The reverend was now thoroughly flustered. "You're getting married?"

"Not me. Sherry. Never mind, Rev. I'll drop by the church. Go get your caffeine."

The reverend went into the shop.

Cora wheeled on Mimi. "What do you mean you're not having an affair?"

"I'm not. What a terrible thing to say! How am I ever going to face the reverend?"

"Oh, he'll get over it." Cora wasn't sure she would. She wondered what the penalty was for killing a young mother. "So what the hell are you upset about?"

"The car."

"What about the car?"

"I backed into a light pole. In the mall. One of the ones with cement around the bottom. I missed the tail-light, but I dented the fender. Squashed it, really. Had to be banged out. Repainted. You know how expensive that is? I'm still paying it off. Anyway, the dent was on the driver's side. I angled the car in our driveway, so Chuck wouldn't see it when I drove him to the station. Then I went straight to a garage. And you know how much they charged for just one little dent? If I told him right away it wouldn't have been so bad, but the longer I wait the worse it gets. And now he's gonna find out."

"Why?" Cora demanded.

"The car's due for inspection. Chuck always takes it in. The body shop did good work, but it's not like it doesn't show. The inspector will ask Chuck about the accident."

"No, he won't," Cora said irritably. "All they care about is that you pass the emissions test, and pay an exorbitant price for a few irrelevant parts. They couldn't care less about your damn dent."

"No. I have to tell him."

"Okay, so tell him. You don't need me."

"Yes, I do. It's important. I want to make it special. Let Chuck know I care. You said you'd help me. And it would be so easy for you."

Cora scowled. "What would be so easy for me?"

Mimi smiled. "To make a little crossword puzzle. Just for Chuck."

Chapter 3.

DAN FINLEY WAS holding down the police station when Cora Felton came in. Apparently, it wasn't that tough a job. The young officer was playing solitaire.

"Red seven on black eight," Cora kibitzed.

"Hi, Miss Felton. What's up?"

"I was gonna ask you the same thing. Isn't anybody killing anybody anymore?"

Dan grinned. "Not at the moment. Things are slow."

"Where's the chief?"

"In his office."

"Working?"

"Most likely taking a nap. But you didn't hear it from me."

Cora stuck her head in Dale Harper's private office, found the chief on the phone. She mouthed, "Sorry," and started to close the door, but he waved her in.

Cora flopped into a chair, hoping the chief was involved in some high-level intrigue. He was writing on a legal pad, which looked promising.

"Uh-huh. Uh-huh," the chief said. "And a pint of sour cream."

Cora figured that probably wasn't life or death.

Harper hung up the phone. "So, whaddya want?"

"What makes you think I want something?"

"You're not smoking."

"Oh?"

"When I want something, you're lighting up, looking around for an ashtray, telling me if you can't smoke in here you'll take it outside. When you want something, you're polite."

"Gee, Chief. Are you accusing me of being manipulative?"

"Heaven forbid." Chief Harper leaned back in his chair, sipped his coffee. A crumpled muffin paper was on the desk. Most likely from a blueberry ginger, his latest muffin of choice. "So what do you need help with? Sherry's wedding?"

"How come everybody knows about that? It hasn't been announced yet."

"This is a small town. If you have to learn something by reading the paper, it means you haven't been paying attention."

"That will be bad news for the groom. He kind of depends on people reading the paper."