With a sigh, she took a cup from the pantry. She’d arrived at her parents’ home late last night after being informed of her sister’s disappearance, and she could barely keep her eyes open. The coffee was too dark and thick to look appealing, but then no one in her family claimed to be related to Martha Stewart or Chef Boyardee. Thank God.

She lifted the mug to her lips, breathed in deep, and choked on the fumes. She dropped the cup into the sink, her eyes watering. She tried to speak and coughed again. “What is this stuff?” she asked, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

Her mother breezed in, her long black hair flowing to her waist behind her, and kissed Ariana on the cheek. “It’s brake fluid.”

Ariana sighed. Yet another perfect example of why she’d avoided bringing friends home when she was a teenager.

Her mother patted her shoulder. “It wasn’t meant to be tasted.”

“Then what’s it doing in the coffeepot?”

“We were out of Tupperware.”

“Of course.” Ariana’s eyes began to tear again. “Give me a tissue, please.”

A hand reached out and waved a handkerchief in front of her eyes.

“Thanks.” As Ariana blotted the tears, she looked over her shoulder and into the eyes of a real, live monkey. In any other home, she’d have jumped back in fright. “Who does the chimp belong to?” she asked, resigned.

“Not a chimp, a capuchin,” Aunt Dee explained as the small monkey jumped down from the counter and scampered to the middle of the room. “If you’ll recall, Great-Aunt Deliria was engaged to a monkey. This could be a long-lost relative.” She swept her hand wide in a grand gesture and pointed to the animal, who was now sitting on the kitchen floor and unceremoniously playing with both feet.