Cheryl turned around suddenly and leaned her slim young body against the white fluted columns at her side, and bent her bright head with its gay little red ribbon bow. Mara’s dark eyes rested on her for an instant. Then she went to her, and touched her arm in some mute appeal I could not fathom. Cheryl’s brown hand closed on Mara’s browner one, as if she understood and assented. Mara turned back to me.
“Where . . . where did they find him, Grace?”
“Your mother and I found him on the archery range, behind the butt,” I said.
Her eyes widened slowly. “Behind the . . . oh, how awful!”
“I should think both of you might change into something else, and be ready when the police come,” I said, a little brusquely, I’m afraid, trying to cover up my own sharp bewilderment.
Cheryl looked down at h
