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well.
    “That’s ‘zhan-tee.’ What can I do for you?”
    “I’m George Winters at the Ocean Alley Press .”
    Not being fond of the media at the moment, I let his words hang there. “Did you want something?” I finally asked.
    “I wondered if you had any comments about the cause of Mrs. Riordan’s death.”
    “Comments? Of course not.” I really wanted to hang up, but I was in Aunt Madge’s house, not mine, so I couldn’t.
    “Have you heard?” he asked.
    “Heard what?” I held the phone away from my ear, aware that Aunt Madge was now standing next to me. The blonde color was already fading; I had a fleeting thought that she must have used a cheaper brand of color.
    “That the coroner has ruled that the cause of death was due to strangulation.”
    I said nothing. I couldn’t. It was impossible.
    “Miss Gentil?”
    “I really don’t have any comment. I’m sure you can get any information from the police.” I hung up and looked at Aunt Madge. “That means she was murdered.” This isn’t how it is supposed to be. Wealthy old ladies die in their sleep.
    Suddenly, I started to shake and sat down quickly. “I was…whoever did it…might have...” Absurdly, I couldn’t finish the thought. Not out loud anyway. Whoever killed her could have been in the house when I was.
    Aunt Madge sat down across from me and held onto the edge of her chair as she stared past me. “Poor Ruth. How can this be happening?”
    I realized Aunt Madge had just lost a close friend and went to her chair and leaned over and gave her a hug. “They have to be wrong.”
    She let me rest my head on her shoulder for a second, and I could almost feel her sag an inch. I kissed her on the cheek. At that, she straightened. “I’m going down to the police station and find out what’s really going on.”
    I took my hand off her shoulder and looked at her. My aunt, the no-gossip woman.
    She picked up her purse and glanced at me. “Are you coming?”
    I wouldn’t miss it for anything. Next thing I knew, they’d be accusing me.

CHAPTER FIVE
    THE PANELED WALLS and hard plastic chairs of the police station’s small waiting area did not provide a welcoming atmosphere. Fortunately, the uniformed officer behind the counter said she didn’t think we’d have long to wait.
    I’d only been in here once, in eleventh grade when I got picked up for smoking on the boardwalk. I didn’t realize it wasn’t a crime or I wouldn’t have gone with the cop, a guy in his early forties named Sgt. Tortino. He knew Aunt Madge and wanted to scare me straight or something. I was far more scared of her than him, of course. She hauled me home and wouldn’t let me watch TV for two weeks. Since I had only smoked a few times, to be cool, I decided to quit rather than fight.
    As luck would have it, a now-older Lieutenant Tortino came out when the front desk clerk called back, and he escorted Aunt Madge and me to his small office. He’d gone from light brown to a mix of brown and gray hair and put on about twenty pounds since I’d seen him. He still had the same firm walk I remembered when he was parading me down the boardwalk to his car.
    We sat down facing him, and I thought I detected a look of amusement when he glanced at me. “I promise, I quit smoking that night.”
    “Was that before or after you finished cussing me out?” He grinned.
    Aunt Madge turned to me. “You didn’t.”
    “Um, of course not.” I tried to glare at Tortino without her noticing.
    “So, what on earth is this business of Ruth being murdered?” she asked him.
    He was somber. “It’s definite. Someone applied pressure to her windpipe.” He paused. “There are some other indications, but it wouldn’t be appropriate for me to give a lot of details.”
    “But, she looked so…peaceful,” I said. OK, her eyes were staring straight up, but that was sort of normal for a dead person, at least in all the mystery books I’d read. “I guess I didn’t look real