Through the floor-to-ceiling glass panels beside the front oak doors, I could see two white TV vans parking on the gravel driveway right behind the police cars.

A man with a big shoulder camera was already stepping over the low stone wall near the flower beds.

The quiet, hidden peace of Bellevue Crest had been broken wide open, spread across the morning light for every neighbor on the hill to see.

Attorney Pendelton stopped on the wide porch steps and pulled his wool coat tight around his chest against the autumn wind.

“The news crews will be at the front gate all afternoon, Nora,” Pendelton said softly.