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Hazel was waiting for me, as she often was. After petting Chauncey and putting some fresh water in his bowl, I went into the parlor and collapsed on the sofa.

“Difficult day,” Hazel said. There wasn’t any upward inflection in those words, so I knew she wasn’t asking a question.

“That’s for sure.” I hadn’t planned to unburden myself, but suddenly, the words were flowing as I told her about how crowded the bar had been, how so many people had shown up to pay their respects to Father Frank.

And then I told her about that scene with Jude Marsh.

Hazel got a knowing look in her eyes. “Oh, Jude,” she said. “Yes, he and Frank were very good friends. Frank was Jude’s confessor when Jude was still in the priesthood, and Frank helped him when he decided to leave. They’d been in each other’s lives for a long time — Frank baptized Jude, so you can see why he’s taking this so hard.”

Yes, that was a very long history together. It would probably have felt more like losing a parent. No wonder Jude had been so grief-stricken…and so upset with me. He’d been lashing out, and I’d simply been the easiest target, the woman who’d somehow let a murderer into her establishment.

Even though there hadn’t been anyone to let in. Every person who’d come into Copper State Cellars that night had left the same way, i.e., through the front door. And even if you wanted to argue that the killer could have slipped in via the side door, that theory didn’t hold any water. Marco and I had been there the whole time, and one of us surely would have seen something.

I still didn’t know how the murderer had done it, only that they must have gotten in some other way.

And that realization made me more uneasy than ever.

Chapter 8

A House With Many Rooms

A vigil service was being held for Father Frank on Sunday evening, although the actual funeral wouldn’t be until Wednesday. Marco hadn’t offered any explanation for the delay, and I thought maybe that was just how these things were done.

At first, I wasn’t sure if I should even go to the vigil. I was only briefly acquainted with Father Frank, and it wasn’t as if I was a practicing Catholic…or anything else. Besides, Celeste was supposed to be coming up to Prescott to see me.

But then she sent me a text saying that Deirdre, the bassist for the Voodoo Dollies, had gotten into yet another blowout fight with her boyfriend that involved clothes and other personal items getting thrown out of their second-floor apartment window and a visit from the police, and she needed to stay down in Phoenix to run interference.

None of this surprised me too much. Deirdre and her boyfriend had been having epic fights for the past two years, and Celeste was always there to provide a place for her bassist to crash afterward or to take her out for some retail therapy or whatever else might be required.

So now I was free that Sunday night. I realized that attending the vigil service would allow me to see a bunch of parishioners in the wild, so to speak, and I might get a chance to watch their reactions and possibly overhear some conversations that could provide a few clues. When I put the situation in that light, staying home really wasn’t an option.

And I wasn’t going to admit to myself for a second that I was curious to see whether Jude Marsh would be there.

A funeral wardrobe was the one thing I had in spades. Since I’d gotten off work at six and the vigil didn’t start until seven-thirty, I had plenty of time to try on a series of black dresses, some mine, some from Hazel’s closet, and decide which one worked best.

I settled on a sheath of Hazel’s that had probably hit her mid-calf but was just below the knee on me. Otherwise, it fit perfectly, and since my knees and elbows were covered and the neckline wasn’t too low, I thought it would do nicely for the vigil.

Unfortunately, her feet had been a size smaller than mine, so I had to use a pair of my own shoes, pointy pumps with heels that weren’t quite high enough to be stilettos but still made my legs look great.

Not that I should have been thinking about something as frivolous as that, but nearly everything in my closet had been purchased because it showed off one asset or another, so it was almost impossible to prevent that thought from crossing my mind.

I’d been living in the house for a little over two weeks by that point, but I still hadn’t delved into the dresser full of Hazel’s jewelry even though she’d given me permission to wear whatever I liked, reminding me that it was all mine now. But as I studied myself in the mirror, I realized that the plain silver jewelry I usually wore didn’t give the right effect at all, so Hazel’s treasure chest it was.

My eyes nearly popped out of my head when I opened the first drawer. This one was dedicated to rings, all of them displayed in the kind of velvet case you might see at a jewelry store. I wasn’t an expert on any of it, since almost everything I wore was costume, but I saw lots of amethyst and what I thought were various shades of sapphire, along with rubies — or garnets? — and emeralds and other stones I couldn’t even begin to identify.

Wow.

The drawer next to that held a series of necklaces. I saw a strand of pearls, a shorter length that would hug my throat, and thought that should work. My fingers shook a little as I fastened the white gold, diamond-studded clasp, and I couldn’t help wondering how much that particular strand was worth.

Or how much any of it was worth, to be perfectly honest.

I also found a pair of pearl studs and a ring that I thought was white gold as well, set with a large pearl accented with a spray of diamonds. For a moment, I wondered if it was too much, but another quick look in the mirror told me that the combination worked, that it was elegant and understated without looking as if I was trying too hard.

Okay, final check. Hair set in soft waves, bangs brushed under and finished with a quick spritz of hairspray, black eyeliner in place and mouth coated with Besamé Cherry Red lipstick. Maybe a little stylized, but everyone had already picked up that I wasn’t exactly a jeans and T-shirt kind of girl.

I emerged from the walk-in closet to see Hazel standing over by the window, Chauncey at her feet. She gave me a once-over, then nodded in approval.

“Very nice,” she said. “I’m glad you’re wearing the pearls. They go well with that dress.”