When they joined Rhonda, Tony had disappeared again. "He's making some phone calls for me," Rhonda explained without prompting. "The state bar association and some old friends and neighbors. Oh, dear — it doesn't seem possible that this has happened, does it?"

“It's a terrible shame," Shelley said. "And it must be very hard on you."

“Yes, but it could have been much worse for Robert." At their perplexed expressions, she added. "You see, he had an absolute horror of illness and a lingering death. He was so active — so enormously active. Physically, mentally, socially. To have been rendered inactive would have been hell for him. At least his death was very, very quick. I know if he'd had a choice, that would have been his preference."

“Do the police have any idea what happened?" Shelley asked innocently.

“They're not telling me anything," Rhonda said with what would have been called a pout in other circumstances. "Just asking questions. Terribly personal questions, some of them.”

Tony Belton had come back into the room. " — which I keep telling you you're under no obligation to answer," he added.

“But Tony, I have nothing to conceal. And I want the person who did this awful thing apprehended as soon as possible.”

Tony didn't comment, but held out the list of names and phone numbers. "Rhonda, I think one of these is wrong. I keep getting a pizza restaurant.”

The doorbell rang and Tony started to get up. Shelley stopped him. "I'll get it. In fact, Jane and I need to be moving along. We'll come back later on and help with the food, or tidying up or whatever you might need.”

They went to the door, where two more neighbors stood. One had a box of pastries from an expensive bakery. The other had a foil-covered casserole in a raffia basket. Shelley showed them in, and as she was closing the door, they could hear Rhonda saying, "Martha! Nancy! How wonderful of you to come help me out at this awful, awful time. I knew I could count on you. Such good friends."