The woman, clad in the same kind of heavy, hot garments Jane was wearing, was red-faced and gulping for breath. "It's Ms. Palmer. I think she's dead!"

“Oh, no!" Jane exclaimed. "Surely she just fainted from the heat!"

“No!" The younger woman was sobbing now. "No, she's been shot!”

TWO

Mel gestured at Jane to keep the young woman y where she was. Jane nodded and Mel turned away so he could speak without being heard. Jane handed over the remains of her glass of lemonade to the woman. "Take a long drink. You look ready to fall down yourself. That's Detective VanDyne calling. He'll take care of everything. Just relax for a minute so you can calm down and cool off.”

The young woman, still sobbing, tried to drink, hiccuped and choked a bit, then tried again. Her brilliant orange-red hair had been pulled into a tiny bun at the back of her head, but had come loose and was frizzed around her face, which was now drenched with sweat and as pale as an eggshell. Jane was afraid she might be going into shock. She grabbed a brochure someone had dropped on the ground and started fanning her charge with both hands.

The young woman took several gulps, a couple of deep breaths, and her color improved.

“I'm sorry I acted so hysterical," she finally said. "Thank you for the drink."

“I'm Jane Jeffry. I don't think we met before the reenactment."

“I'm Sharlene Lloyd. I'm — I was Ms. Palmer's secretary."

“Now, now. We don't know for sure yet.”

Jane glanced around. Mel had finished his phone call and was striding out across the field. Several people were staring at Sharlene and many more were wandering about. "Sharlene, are your regular clothes in that house trailer where my friend and I got dressed?" Sharlene nodded. "Then let's go cool off and get our own clothes on."

“I can't. I should be helping."