I stumbled toward an exit as the first crack of the bat sounded. Jeanette hadn’t said the cause of death, so he probably wasn’t shot or stabbed. He was a big man, so strangulation seemed unlikely in a house full of people. Although it was a big house, and we could have all slept through a struggle. No, wait—she’d said he was dead in his car. I shuddered as I got a flash of all those spy movies where the driver is garroted from behind before turning the ignition. I was just grasping at straws now, spinning out scenarios to keep me from thinking about the things I couldn’t help. For James to have been killed right outside the house, and Jeanette hadn’t mentioned any sign of robbery … It didn’t look good for the rest of us. The police would need a statement from me, anyway.
Poor James. Poor
