Besides, how could the man she’d seen have had any idea who she was? For all he knew, she was someone there to inspect the hall with an eye toward booking it. And that was assuming the gray-haired man had killed Carrie, that he’d have any interest in her at all.Still, the very idea was unsettling. She took solace in one of the brownies—there really was something comforting about chocolate—as she began going through her files and pulling out the details she needed for her working list for the day. Something in her balked at the idea of calling Eric for a favor; she’d rather go to the extra trouble of reassembling her file. Diedra helped her, combing through the computer for salient details, printing out photographs, digging out phone numbers.Madelyn and Peach arrived within five minutes of each other, and each new arrival necessitated a rehashing of yesterday’s disastrous meeting, Carrie’s murder, speculation on who could have done it—the list was long and varied—as well as going over and over all the questions the police had asked.
