he helped her straighten up some and went to his car thinking she was coming right out behind him. Only she didn’t.”
“Where was Claire?”
“James Butler took her home earlier. Mercy stayed to talk to some customers.”
“I wonder if she knows Mercy’s dead.”
Sister shrugged. “Do you want to hear this?”
I did.
“Well, when Mercy didn’t come right out, he thought she’d gotten a phone call or gone to the bathroom. Finally he went to check on her and she was lying on the floor by the door clutching her chest.”
“On the floor by the door.”
Mary Alice clutched her ample chest to demonstrate. “A heart attack. He called 911 and Bonnie Blue says they used the paddles and everything, but it was too late.”
“And no history of heart problems.”
“None,” Mary Alice said. We were silent for a moment, both of us, I’m sure, picturing the seemingly healthy red-haired woman we had seen the night before circulating around her gallery, full of life.
“So, what about Claire?” Mary Alice asked.
“What do you mean, what about Claire? You saw her when you came through the den.”
“I thought maybe you found out why she showed up on your doorstep.”
I shook my head. “She seems to be resting quietly,” Isaid. “I’m not going to bother her. Whatever her problem is, it’ll come out in due time.”
“Hmm,” Sister said. “Maybe she has fever.”
“Maybe she does,” I said, “but you’re not going in there poking at her to see. She needs the sleep.”
“Well, you must admit it’s strange that you haven’t seen her in years and she shows up like this.”
“She saw me last night. I was on her mind.”
“Maybe her husband abuses her,” Mary Alice said.
I shivered, remembering how frail Claire had felt when I helped her into the house. “God, I hope not. She’s had too much of that in her lifetime.”
“Any at all is too much,” Mary Alice said.
For once I agreed with my sister completely. “I’ll find out when she wakes up,” I said. “She may just be in a state of shock at Mercy’s death.”
“Let me know. We don’t have to be at the mall until two o’clock, but I’ve made an appointment with Delta at Delta Hairlines for eleven.”
“You haven’t. You’re not having your hair dyed black!”
“I told Delta I wanted her opinion.”
“Ask for a second one.”
“You ought to go with me, Patricia Anne. Get something done to yours.”
I ran my hand through my curly gray hair. “Forget it.”
Mary Alice got up from the bed and slipped her feet into white huaraches.
“Are those winter white?” I asked.
“They were the first ones I found, Miss Smart-ass!”
I followed her down the hall and into the den. We stood for a moment looking down at the sleeping Claire, who was again lying on her back.
“You think she’s okay?” Mary Alice whispered.
Claire’s eyes opened suddenly, widely, and she stared at us.
“The police,” she said. “Oh, God. We have to call the police. Right now.”
Four
C laire sat straight up and covered her face with both hands.
“Ohhh,” she moaned, rocking back and forth.
“Claire,” I said, “Claire.” I sat on the edge of the sofa and put my arm around her, trying to soothe her. “You’ve just had a bad dream.”
“Nooo.” It was a loud breath. “Call the police.”
“But why, Claire?”
Mary Alice, who had jumped a foot when Claire opened her eyes, reached for the phone on the end table. I slapped at her hand.
“What are you doing?”
“She said call the police.”
I glared at Mary Alice. “Will you wait just a minute? I’m sure Claire was just having a nightmare. Weren’t you, Claire?”
Claire pulled her knees up, wrapped her arms around them, and buried her face in the afghan.
“I wish I could bend like that,” Sister whispered.
“Shut up,” I mouthed.
“Someone tried to kill me last night.” Claire’s words were muffled.
“What?” Mary Alice and I both asked.
Claire lifted