Chapter Six
Tammy was buried on a scorching Sunday afternoon. Dogs, hoping for stray breezes, lay very still under oak trees. Heat rose in squiggly waves from the asphalt. Kids who’d played catch the flag and red rover now spent all their time drifting in large black, blazing-hot inner tubes on the warm lake water. Temperatures flirted with 100 degrees by eleven that morning. Tammy’s service was graveside, and a fair-sized crowd had turned out. “They probably want proof she’s really dead,” hissed Myrtle to Elaine.
Law enforcement, represented by Red and what appeared to be several officers from the state police, were also in attendance, hanging back and scrutinizing the mourners. They were probably hoping the murderer, overcome with remorse, would fling himself prostrate on the coffin,
