The Cove

didn't. He sat down on the chintz sofa and tried to figure things out.

    "Thelma," he said after he'd swallowed a spoonful of the lightest, most beautifully seasoned scrambled eggs he'd ever tasted in his life, "if you were a stranger and you wanted to hide here in The Cove, where would you go?'' Thelma ate one of her fat sausages, wiped the grease off her chin, and said, "Well, let me see. There's that dilapidated little shack just up on that hillock behind Doc Spiver's house. But I tell you, boy, I'd have to be real desperate to hole up in that place. All filled with dirt and spiders and probably rats. Nasty place that probably leaks real bad when it rains." She ate another sausage, just forked the whole thing up and stuffed it into her mouth.

    Martha came up beside her and handed her a fresh napkin. Thelma gave her a nasty look. "You think I'm one of those old ladies who will dribble on themselves if a handmaiden isn't right on the spot to keep her clean?"

    "Now, Thelma, you've been twisting the other napkin around until it's a crumpled ball. Here, take this one. Oh, look, you got some sausage grease on your diary. You've got to be more careful."

    “ need more ink. Go buy me some, Martha. Hey, you got young Ed back there in the kitchen? You're feeding him, aren't you, Martha? You're buying my food with my money and you're feeding him just so he'll go to bed with you."

    Martha rolled her eyes and looked at Sally's plate. "You don't like the toast? It's a little on the pale side. You want it better toasted?"

    "No, no, it's fine, truly. I'm just not hungry this morning."

    "No man wants a skinny post, Sally," Thelma said, taking a noisy bite of toast. "A man's got to have something he can hang on to. Just look at Martha, bosom so big young Ed can't even walk past without seeing her poking out at him."

    "Young Ed has prostate trouble," Martha said, raising a thick black eyebrow, and she left the dining room, saying over her shoulder, "I'll buy you some black ink, Thelma."

    "I'm coming with you."

    "But-"

    Sally just shook her head and walked across the street toward the World's Greatest Ice Cream Shop. She was limping only slightly today. A bell tinkled when she opened the door.

    Amabel, dressed like a gypsy with a cute white apron, stood behind the counter, scooping up a French Vanilla double-dip cone for a young woman who was talking a mile a minute.

    "... I heard that two people have been murdered here in the last several days. That's incredible! My mama said The Cove was the quietest little place she knew about, she said nothing ever happened here, that it had to be one of those gangs from down south come up here to stir up misery."

    "Hello, Sally, James. How are you this morning, baby?"

    As she spoke, she handed the cone to the young woman, who immediately began licking and moaning in ecstasy.

    "I'm fine," Sally said.

    "That will be two dollars and sixty cents," Amabel said.

    "Oh, it's wonderful," the young woman said. She alternately dug in her wallet and ate the ice cream.

    Quinlan smiled at her. "It is excellent ice cream. Why don't you just keep eating and I'll treat you?"

    "Taking ice cream from a stranger is okay," Sally said. "Besides, I know him. He's harmless."

    Quinlan paid Amabel. Nothing else was said until the young woman left the shop.

    "There hasn't been another call," Amabel said. "Either from Thelma or from your father."

    "He knows that I've left your house," Sally said thoughtfully. "That's good. I don't want you in any danger."

    "Don't be ridiculous, Sally. There's no danger for me."

    "There was for Laura Strather and Doc Spiver," Quinlan said. "You be careful, Amabel. Sally and I are going exploring. Thelma told us about this shack up the hill behind Doc Spiver's house. We're going to check it out." "Watch out for snakes," Amabel called after them.

    Which kind, Quinlan wondered.

    Once they were rounding the corner to Doc Spiver's house, Sally said, "Why did you tell Amabel where we were going?"

    "Seeding," he said. "Watch your step, Sally. You're not all that steady on your ankle just yet." He held back the stiff, gnarly branch of a yew tree. There was a barren hill behind the house, and tucked into a shallow recess was a small shack.

    "What do you mean, seeding?"

    "I don't like the fact that your dear auntie has treated you like you're so high-strung no one should trust what you say. I told her that just to see if perhaps something might happen. Then if it