She could go home and have a glass of skim milk. Max always urged her to drink skim milk. He said studies proved that people who drank skim were healthier than those who drank whole milk. Annie said she could do a study proving that people who ate chocolate were happier than people who didn’t. She opened the sack, sniffed. Hmm, what an interesting smell. Or she could go by the hospital and check with Henny about the Campbells and Little Theater. Or— The car turned right. Annie was familiar with automatic writing on Ouija boards as described by Mary Roberts Rinehart in The Red Lamp, but not automatic driving. Apparently she had listened more closely to Max’s end of the conversation with Laurel than she’d realized. Now that she was so near, it wouldn’t hurt to nip up Red-Tailed Hawk and see where Mark Stone’s car skidded off the road. A half mile ahead, she slowed and peered to the right up Marsh Tacky Lane. In midafternoon sunlight, the dusty gray road curved into dimness beneath overhanging branches of live oaks and magnolias.
