16It was Tuesday, the day of Iris Gault’s funeral. Molly got up early. She was feeling morose and trying to shake it off. She didn’t think she deserved to feel sad—she’d barely met the woman after all. But murder had an effect, not only on Molly but on many in the village: they felt as though no one was safe, not really. It wasn’t that they expected Iris’s killer to keep on killing, picking off Castillaçois one by one. It was more that if a familiar married couple like Iris and Pierre had argued, and that had led to the fatal shove down the stairs—well, that could happen to anyone, couldn’t it? Was everyone just one bad day away from getting offed?
Coffee in hand, Molly halfheartedly wandered around the backyard with Bobo, who did her usual bounding and and flying ahead and then hilarious
