“Now let’s take a breath,” Eleanor said.

“You’ve been walking around in a fog since you got back from Mark’s house yesterday.”

“I went to the police station this morning,” I said.

“I met with Howard Finch.”

Eleanor stiffened.

She dropped the damp cloth into her apron pocket.

“Why are you digging into Laura’s death?” she asked.

“We survived that year by moving forward, Arthur.”