“They hibernate with the bears. There are toiletries in the bathroom, even two different bristle strength toothbrushes.” She showed him more of her dead husband’s clothes and left him to the forest with its magnificent view.

Cheney called after her, “Leave your bedroom door open.”

“I’m not about to sleep in my bed tonight. I’ll be right down the hall—with the door open. You can count on it. Thanks again for staying, Cheney. I guess I’m a little spooked.”

“You’re allowed.”

She nodded, gave him a tentative smile and walked down the wide corridor away from him. He could tell she was dragging. He hoped she’d be deeply asleep before too long.

As for himself, he was out as soon as he pulled the thick duvet to his chin.

CHAPTER 18

Cheney awoke with a start to the sound of a woman’s voice singing an aria from Madame Butterfly, one of the few operas he liked. He lay with his eyes closed, and listened. It was a beautiful voice, with good range. He didn’t move until she finished.

He cleaned himself up, brushed his teeth with the extra-firm-bristle toothbrush, and went downstairs to the kitchen to see Julia Ransom bending over to pull muffins out of the oven.

He drew in a deep breath. Blueberry, his favorite.

He didn’t want to startle her so he waited until she set the pan onto one of the top burners.

“Smells great.”

She whirled around, nearly lunged for the gun sitting on the end of the counter. “Oh. Good morning, Cheney. It’s still early. I wanted to—”

She was wearing jeans, ballet flats, and a white shirt, her hair in a French braid. And she was wearing lipstick, he saw, a pretty pale peach color, and some makeup to cover her bruise. She wore no jewelry except for small silver hoops in her ears.

He said, “I was sleeping in my forest bed when the most incredible music began playing in my head. Madame Butterfly, right?”

“Yes, it’s my favorite. I’m sorry if I woke you up. Sometimes the songs come out of my mouth and I don’t realize, that is, usually I’m alone and I guess I didn’t think—”

“It’s all right, Julia. You have a beautiful voice.” The microwave pinged. “Thank you. Please sit down. I’ve got breakfast going here.”

He looked at his watch. “The forensic team will be back soon.”

“I was looking at some of the bullet holes, so much of the beautiful old wood gouged out. They’ll get his DNA from the blood, won’t they?”

“Yes. Did you study voice? Sing professionally?” She shook her head as she poured him a cup of coffee, then moved to the stove to scramble some eggs. “Well, for one semester in college I practiced for hours every day, but then—”

“Then what?”

She shrugged. “Then things changed.”

He wanted to ask her to explain, but he didn’t. Her past could wait.

She was fast. Six minutes later they were eating eggs, blueberry muffins, and crispy bacon, just as he liked it.

Something pressed against his leg and he nearly leaped off the chair. As it was, he sent his fork flying.

“I’m sorry. Hey, Freddy, you scared Cheney. Come here, little prince, and have some turkey bacon.”

A large muscular tabby, more white than orange, jumped lightly onto the chair next to Julia’s and begin talking. The desperate meows didn’t stop until he had his face in a pile of turkey bacon crumbled on a paper plate. Freddy chewed loudly and he purred even louder. Cheney listened for a moment, then laughed.

“That guy’s got an incredible engine.”

“Yes, he does. Even when he was a kitten you could hear him from two rooms away.” She sighed. “I think I was the only neighbor willing to watch Freddy so Mrs. Minter had no choice but to ask me. Like everyone else, she’s not quite sure whether I killed my husband. And now this.” She sighed. “I wonder what my neighbors are going to think now?”

Cheney said matter-of-factly, “When the media does a number on someone, it stays done for a good long time. Now that you’re the target, the media will jump on that and people will change their minds, your neighbors included. I didn’t see Freddy Thursday night or last night.”

“Freddy was hiding beneath the sofa in the library. I’m keeping him for a week while Mrs. Minter and her new husband explore the Greek Islands. They’re due back pretty soon. It’s a good thing Freddy doesn’t sleep with me. That creep might have hurt him last night. I sure hope you’re right about my neighbors changing their minds about me.”