C
ap’s heart went out to poor Robin, losing her husband like she did, in the manner that she did. But truth be told, Cap wasn’t shocked that Chuck’s drinking finally did him in—just in the fashion that death took him.
He glanced around his living room filled with two dozen mourners, most dressed in funeral black or as close as their wardrobe offered. The townspeople had walked up from the church after the service to drink and eat and offer their condolences to Robin. Cap sipped at a black coffee and nodded repeatedly to Terry Ann Bartel, who had him and Tess trapped in the corner, bending their ears about her theory on death.
“It always happens in threes. First Teddie, then poor, old Alice Hunsinger, God bless her heart, and now Chuck. One-two-three.”
Cap attempted to get a word in ed
