I jogged back outside and was glad to see that the young woman who had found Margie was still there. “The sheriff is on his way,” I said as I led her to a brick flowerbed in front of the office so that we could both sit down. She was shaking. I knew, firsthand, that finding a body could be a very unnerving and terrifying experience.
As we sat there, I tried to look casual so that the townspeople and tourists walking by would think two friends were just sitting and talking, but my ruse was blown when my friend Symeon, Mart’s boyfriend and chef at the local French restaurant, started to head into the post office after waving and smiling at me. “You can’t go in, Sy,” I said.
He stopped and turned back to me. “Are they closed?” He looked at his watch.
“No. Something has happened.” I swung m
