Bill drew a rectangle on the chart. It could have
been a book—or a box of cereal. “That’s interesting,”
he noted. “Despite the fact that the novel wasn’t very
good, Bruno was deeply attached to it. Which suggests
he was deeply attached to the author, maybe more so
than to the book.”
Joe gave Bill an approving nod. “You may be onto
something, Mr. Jones.”
Judith was peering at what looked like a stick figure
wearing a big hat. Or maybe it was a halo. “What’s
that?” she asked.
Bill examined the clumsy sketch. “That’s the alien
suspect. See, it’s from outer space.”
“So’s Bill,” Renie murmured. “He can’t draw, either.”
“I don’t understand,” Judith admitted.
Bill tapped the figure twice. “We can’t exclude an
outsider. If you and Joe were in the basement when
Bruno died, he could have let someone in, someone
you never saw and don’t even know exists. Thus, the
alien suspect.”
“That’s not a bad theory,” Joe remarked. “I tell you,
Billy Boy, you may be going somewhere with this chart.”
“Speaking of going,” Renie said with a bored expression, “could we go on to something else?”
“No,” Judith responded. “I think Bill has a very important point.” She ignored her cousin, who was using
her hands to make a conical steeple over Bill’s head.
“Why don’t I call one of my buddies with the library
system and ask about
“Why?” Joe countered. “You said yourself you
didn’t remember anything about it.”
“But I’m not eighty-five years old,” Judith said, seeing Sweetums wander into the living room. “Delia
Cosgrove is. She might recall something. Delia’s been
retired for years, but she’s still very sharp. I ran into
her last spring at the annual library tea.”
“Forget Delia,” Renie said with a curious expression. “Call my mother.”
Bill looked askance. “Your mother?”
“Yes,” Renie replied with a touch of defiance. “My
father read all sorts of books, including some oddities
nobody else probably ever heard of. Mom might remember.”
Bill sucked in his breath. “I’ve gone to a lot of work
here.”
Judith started to speak, but Renie interrupted. “I’m
going to call my mother right now.” She picked up the
phone and dialed as Sweetums sashayed over to Bill
and sniffed the corner of his chart.
“Why don’t we watch the end of the football
game?” Bill muttered. “We might as well. This is
