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the others.”
    Doc Dewey must have been one of the few people on the planet who could make Vida obey without an argument. She did sniff slightly but followed the rest of us into the hall.
    “Emma,” she said, gesturing at Max, a bearded man of middle age with sharp brown eyes, “this is Max Froland, Jack and June’s son. I remember him as a little boy, playing with his hula hoop up and down Sixth Street.”
    Max looked pained but forced a smile as he shook my hand. “It wasn’t a hula hoop. It was a ten-speed I won in a Chamber of Commerce drawing. I was fifteen.”
    Al, wearing his usual mournful expression, motioned at Max. “Do you mind if I leave, Mr. Froland? I don’t think there’s any more I can do here, and I have to make preparations for the service tomorrow.”
    Max held out his hand. “Go ahead, Mr. Driggers,” he said in a deep, husky voice. “On your way out, could you disperse the gawkers?”
    “I’ll do my best,” Al promised. He nodded at the rest of us and took his leave just as Doc entered the living room.
    “I’ve given June a sedative,” Doc said quietly. “She’s already calming down and should go to sleep in just a minute or two.” He shook his head. “Poor woman—I guess the viewing was too much for her.”
    “Does she have a history of hysteria?” I asked.
    “No,” Doc replied. “She’s never been an emotional woman. June’s always had remarkably good health. I’ve been her physician since my father died ten years ago.”
    Gerald Dewey, known as Young Doc, had inherited Cecil Dewey’s practice. The senior Dewey, of course, was known as Old Doc. Alpiners still referred to Gerald as Young Doc despite the fact that he was now well into middle age.
    “She’s a woman of great faith,” Pastor Nielsen declared. “She must know that Jack is with our savior now.”
    Vida, who was Presbyterian to her toes, shot the Lutheran minister a sharp look. “It’s how Jack got there that seems to have disturbed her.”
    Pastor Nielsen gave Vida a kindly smile. “That’s not the real point, is it, Mrs. Runkel?”
    “Oh, bother,” Vida huffed, then beckoned me into the kitchen. “Let me tell you what happened. I’d rather that Max didn’t overhear. This must be very hard on him.”
    I recalled the obituary with its list of survivors. There had been only one, the son who lived in Seattle. Max’s sister, whose name I’d forgotten, had died years ago.
    “After the viewing,” Vida began, “Max invited everyone back here for coffee and cake. But suddenly June, who’d been holding up rather well, started to cry. Not sobbing, but more like hysterics, wailing and thrashing about. Naturally, Al Driggers took charge. He did his best to calm her, as did Max, but she wouldn’t quiet down. Finally, she shrieked that Jack had been murdered. That’s when I called Doc Dewey. I honestly believed June had become unhinged. Max announced that they wouldn’t be hosting any kind of do at the house.”
    “I shouldn’t think so,” I put in.
    Vida looked miffed. “Yes, but those greedy pigs outside had already raced off to get here first. No doubt George Engebretsen didn’t want to be cheated of his krumkake. But I digress.” Vida glanced out into the living room. “Pastor Nielsen is leaving. Good riddance.” She paused, scanning the kitchen counters. “I wonder where that krumkake is. Indeed, I wonder if June actually made any.”
    Vida was looking in the cupboards when Doc came into the kitchen. “I told Max that his mother will sleep for a few hours,” he said, rolling down his shirtsleeves. “I’ll be on call, so I let Max know that if she wakes up and resumes her hysteria, she should be hospitalized.”
    Giving up on her search, Vida nodded. “Very wise, Doc. Thank you for coming so quickly.”
    “That’s my job,” Doc said with a weary smile. Like his father before him, the younger Dewey still made house calls, at least to his elderly patients. He’d finally gotten some