Death on a Deadline

groomsmen.”
    “Once I cleared up the misunderstanding, they got back together.” They’d even been able to get the same date and time for the ceremony. All I’d really done was inject a little excitement into their post-engagement/pre-wedding lull.
    “And marked you off the invitation list.”
    Some people. One little mistake and they never let you live it down. I shrugged. “This is different. What can it hurt if we do a little innocent snooping?”
    “What can it hurt ?” Carly’s animated face was such a contrast to her earlier tears that it was almost worth the disagreement. “Are you kidding? This isn’t a game or some high-school prank. You’re talkin’ about goin’ after a cold-blooded killer.”

Four

    Green bean casserole and marshmallow salad. Haute cuisine for dummies. Normally this would have been the perfect opportunity for Carly to display her culinary skills. Cooking actually helped her to relieve stress, but she was exhausted, so Mama and I opted for quick and easy.
    Poor Marge. How would she react to Zac being a suspect in her husband’s murder? I was in no hurry to find out. If Mama hadn’t played the Christian-duty card, I wouldn’t be standing here this fine Saturday afternoon, ringing the Templetons’ doorbell.
    Marge’s best friend, Lois, opened the door. “Thanks for coming by.” Her hushed tone matched her somber face. I suppose that, as the town librarian, whisper is her native language.
    “How’s Marge?” Mama asked.
    Lois shook her head. “I think she’s still in shock.”
    We nodded and followed her through the standing-room-only crowd. Everyone from church and the neighborhood had turned out to pay their respects to Hank’s widow. In the South we show our sympathy with food offerings, and judging by the number of steaming dishes filling the table, everyone in Lake View felt sorry for Marge.
    We squeezed our own offerings into the sea of casseroles. Lois would have her hands full after the funeral, helping Marge discreetly dispose of the leftovers.
    “You ladies come in and have a seat.” Lois gestured toward the living room. When we stepped in, it was if someone had hit the Mute button. We nodded politely into the silence.
    The news of Zac’s trip downtown had definitely made its way around the local grapevine. Mama always said, “Good news travels fast, but bad news travels faster,” and she was right again.
    A low-hum chorus of greetings floated in our direction, then mercifully, everyone went back to their quiet conversations. Lois motioned toward the chintz couch, and the gray-haired Llewellen sisters scooted closer together to make room for us. After we settled in, Lois perched on the arm of Marge’s overstuffed chair and patted her on the back. “Is there anything I can get for you?” She reminded me of an anxious lady-in-waiting.
    “No, thanks. I’m fine.” Marge smiled at us. “Elizabeth. Jenna. It’s good to see you. Theo’s on his way, Jenna. I know he’ll want to see you.” Marge’s eyes were red and swollen, but her abnormally high-pitched voice and pseudo-perky attitude suggested that the doctor had probably given her some pills to lessen the shock.
    “Marge, we’re so sorry to hear about Hank’s death. Lake View won’t be the same without him.”
    That was true. Mama always knew the right thing to say. If it had been left up to me, I probably wouldn’t have mentioned Hank. And if I had—well, let’s just say it’s a good thing I let Mama do the talking.
    Marge beamed. “Hank loved Lake View. The newspaper was his life.” Her smile froze, then melted into a frown. “Amelia used to say he should have married the Monitor instead of me.”
    Now there’s a thought. Since the wife is the most likely suspect, maybe the Monitor killed him.
    Valium was probably responsible for this emotional rollercoaster, but the wistful tone in her voice clutched at my heart. Hank had been a pain, but he’d been her pain.
    “Amelia. Humph ,” Lois muttered, looking like she’d taken a drink of curdled milk.
    Mama leaned forward and patted Marge’s hand. “Hank was lucky to have you, Marge. He loved you very much.”
    Suddenly, Marge plopped back against the chair. “He had a funny way of showing it sometimes.” Tears spilled onto her cheeks.
    A million questions flooded my mind, and I barely stopped them before they tumbled out of my mouth. Had Hank been abusive? Something beyond your garden-variety crankiness? I settled for a