They both came down, Nadine in lithe, hopping steps, and Wendy with heavy, thumps behind her.
I met their quizzical looks with a slightly apologetic wince. “Sheriff Weeks is here. Did you guys go in to give them a statement about last night?” I asked low.
“I did,” Nadine said brightly.
Behind her Wendy was shaking her head, her short hair flopping across her face as she stepped down to the floor level, she shook it back. Towering above the both of us, I noted she was probably only a few inches shorter than Weeks, himself.
“Well, the sheriff"s here, and I think he wants to get your statements,” I told them. I led them to the dining room where Weeks had sat down at the bare, dark wood table. A candelabra stationed in the center looked like a shiny silver sentinel in the dim light. I reme
