“isee.”

“youaremakingsomeratherstrangeremarks,”shesaidwithacidinhervoice.“youdidtheothermorning.”

“i’vehadsomeratherstrangeexperiencesinthishouse.gunsgoingoffinthenight,drunkslyingoutonthefrontlawnanddoctorscomingthatwon’tdoanything.lovelywomenwrappingtheirarmsaroundmeandtalkingasiftheythoughtiwassomeoneelse,mexicanhouseboysthrowingknives.it’sapityaboutthatgun.butyoudon’treallyloveyourhusband,doyou?iguessisaidthatbeforetoo.”

shestoodupslowly.shewasascalmasacustard,buthervioleteyesdidn’tseemquitethesamecolor,norofquitethesamesoftness.thenhermouthbegantotremble.

“is—issomethingwronginthere?”sheaskedveryslowly,andlookedtowardsthestudy.

ibarelyhadtimetonodbeforeshewasrunning.shewasatthedoorinaflash.shethrewitopenanddartedin.ifiexpectedawildscreamiwasfooled.ididn’thearanything.ifeltlousy.ioughttohavekeptheroutandeasedintothatcornyroutineaboutbadnews,prepareyourself,won’tyousitdown,i’mafraidsomethingratherserioushashappened.blah,blah,blah.andwhenyouhaveworkedyourwaythroughityouhaven’tsavedanybodyathing.oftenenoughyouhavemadeitworse.

igotupandfollowedherintothestudy.shewaskneelingbesidethecouchwithhisheadpulledagainstherbreast,smearingherselfwithhisblood.shewasn’tmakingasoundofanykind.hereyeswereshut.shewasrockingbackandforthonherkneesasfarasshecould,holdinghimtight.

iwentbackandfoundatelephoneandabook.icalledthesheriff’ssubstationthatseemedtobenearest.didn’tmatter,they’drelayitbyradioinanycase.theniwentouttothekitchenandturnedthewateronandfedthestripsofyellowpaperfrommypocketdowntheelectricgarbagegrinder.idumpedthetealeavesfromtheotherpotafterit.inamatterofsecondsthestuffwasgone.ishutoffthewaterandswitchedoffthemotor.iwentbacktothelivingroomandopenedthefrontdoorandsteppedoutside.

theremusthavebeenadeputycruisingclosebybecausehewasthereinaboutsixminutes.whenitookhimintothestudyshewasstillkneelingbythecouch.hewentovertoheratonce.

“i’msorry,ma’am.iunderstandhowyoumustfeel,butyoushouldn’tbetouchinganything.”

sheturnedherhead,thenscrambledtoherfeet.“it’smyhusband.he’sbeenshot.”

hetookhiscapoffandputitonthedesk.hereachedforthetelephone.

“hisnameisrogerwade,”shesaidinahighbrittlevoice.“he’sthefamousnovelist.”

“iknowwhoheis,ma’am,”thedeputysaid,anddialed.

shelookeddownatthefrontofherblouse.“mayigoupstairsandchangethis?”

“sure.”henoddedtoherandspokeintothephone,thenhungupandturned.“yousayhe’sbeenshot.thatmeansomebodyelseshothim?”

“ithinkthismanmurderedhim,”shesaidwithoutlookingatme,andwentquicklyoutoftheroom.

thedeputylookedatme.hegotanotebookout.hewrotesomethinginit.“ibetterhaveyourname,”hesaidcasually,“andaddress.youtheonecalledin?”

“yes.”itoldhimmynameandaddress.

“justtakeiteasyuntillieutenantohlsgetshere.”

“bernieohls?”

“yeah.youknowhim?”

“sure.i’veknownhimalongtime.heusedtoworkoutofthe’soffice.”

“notlately,”thedeputysaid.“he’sassistantchiefofhomicide,workingoutofthesheriff’soffice.youafriendofthefamily,mr.marlowe?”

“mrs.wadedidn’tmakeitsoundthatway.”

heshruggedandhalfsmiled.“justtakeiteasy,mr.marlowe.notcarryingagun,areyou?”

“nottoday.”

“ibettermakesure.”hedid.helookedtowardsthecouchthen.“inspotslikethisyoucan’texpectthewifetomakemuchsense.webetterwaitoutside.”