40

AT QUARTER PAST NINE, NEIL STEPHENS STOPPED HIS CAR in front of the mailbox with the name MOORE painted on it. He got out, walked up the path and onto the porch, and rang the bell. There was no answer. Feeling like a voyeur, he went over to the window. The shade was only half drawn, and he had a clear view into what seemed to be the living room.

Not knowing what he was looking for, other than for some tangible sign that Maggie Holloway might be there, he walked around to the back and peered through the window in the kitchen door. He could see a coffeepot on the stove, and next to the sink a cup and saucer and juice glass were upturned, suggesting that they had been rinsed and left to dry. But had they been there for days or only minutes?

Finally he decided he had nothing to lose by ringing a neighbor’s bell and inquiring whether anyone had seen Maggie. He received no response at the first two houses he tried. At the third house, the doorbell was answered by an attractive couple who appeared to be in their mid-sixties. As he quickly told them why he was there, he realized he had lucked out.

The couple, who introduced themselves as Irma and John Woods, told him of Nuala Moore’s death and funeral, and of Maggie’s presence in the house. “We were supposed to visit our daughter last Saturday but didn’t go until after Nuala’s funeral,” Mrs. Woods explained. “Just got back late last night. I know Maggie is here. I haven’t spoken to her since we got back, but I saw her go for a walk this morning.”

“And I saw her drive past about fifteen minutes ago,” John Woods volunteered.

They invited him in for coffee and told him about the night of the murder.

“What a sweet girl Maggie is,” Irma Woods sighed. “I could tell how heartbroken she was about losing Nuala, but she isn’t one to carry on. The hurt was all in her eyes.”

Maggie, Neil thought. I wish I could have been here for you.

The Woodses had no idea where Maggie might have gone this morning, or how long she would be out.

I’ll leave her a note to call me, Neil decided. There’s nothing else I can do. But then he had an inspiration. When he drove away five minutes later, he had left a note for Maggie on the door, and he also had her phone number tucked securely in his pocket.