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want my concerns to be a trouble to you.”
    “Investigating Lattimore wouldn’t be a trouble. Besides, after all you’ve done for me? That’s the least I can do. You wouldn’t want me to sit around here and be bored while Ethan Trask investigates Mama’s death.” Wally would have a fit if he’d known what I’d just agreed to do. No one but a licensed investigator or the police should do what I’d promised Gram.
    Gram looked at me, smiled, and shook her head. “Angel, you may have changed some when you were out in the world. But there’s one thing you have never done in your entire life.”
    “What?”
    “Never in your entire life have you sat around anyplace long enough to be bored.”
    For the first time in a long, long time, I laughed. Life in Haven Harbor might not be perfect, but, yes, I was home.

Chapter Five

    And he made a hanging for the tabernacle door of blue, and purple, and scarlet, and fine twined linen, of needlework.
    —Exodus 36:37

    I gave myself the luxury of sleeping a little late the next morning, making up for what I’d missed the day (and night) before. By the time I’d gotten up and put on “something decent and respectful” for Mama’s service, Gram’d been answering calls for a couple of hours and arranged that no one would come back to the house after the service. “It’s been too long in the past for that sort of mourning.” Instead, the Ladies’ Guild would serve coffee and cake in the “family room” of the church, where receptions were held after Sunday services.
    She fried me a couple of eggs, defrosted one of the blueberry lemon muffins she’d made last summer, handed me a cup of weak instant coffee, and inspected me to make sure I didn’t look too “citified.” After suggesting my heels were “a mite higher than necessary,” and making sure my stomach was filled to her satisfaction, she handed me a large straw hat that looked more appropriate for a July picnic than a May funeral.
    Then she announced, “We’ll go out the back way and take my car.”
    I looked at her. “Why not walk?” It was only a few blocks to the Congregational Church our family, and most of those in Haven Harbor, attended, although about 150 years ago the town had graciously acknowledged the presence of Methodists and Baptists in its midst and there was even a Catholic Church in the next town down the coast. (You had to go farther to find a synagogue or mosque, but Maine had those now, too.)
    “Angie, have you looked out one of our front windows this morning?”
    I started toward the front of the house.
    She cut me off at the hall.
    “Well, if you haven’t done it yet, then don’t! We’re hemmed in by press and media folks from Portland and Augusta and Bangor. Can’t believe you didn’t notice. They’ve been staked out for hours, trying to get a peek at the bereaved family of the woman found in the freezer. There’ll be less chance of them sticking a microphone in our faces if we go out the back. There’s a parking space saved for us next to the side door of the church.”
    I peeked around the drapes she’d closed over the hall’s front windows. It wasn’t the crowd there’d have been for Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt, but at least two networks had brought trucks, and a handsome young man was broadcasting live from our front yard. Amazing. This must be a very slow news day in Maine.
    For the first time in my life, I saw the wisdom of Gram’s insisting I wear a hat.
    “Don’t look ’em in the eye,” she was advising. “Walk fast, keep walking till you get in the car. Keep your hat down so they can’t see your face. Don’t look out the car window. Scrunch down. Me, they’ve already seen, but you’re a novelty around these parts. Pete Lambert from the police department is out there. He’ll make sure we get out the drive.”
    I looked at her with increasing respect. “You’ve done this before.”
    “First time was when your mother disappeared. But it wasn’t as