Free The Body in Bodega Bay by Betsy Draine Page A

this cousin he was afraid of? Is there any chance you remember it?”
    She thought a moment. “The same last name as his, I think. Federenco. I don’t remember a first name.”
    â€œOkay. And when Peter first told you about the icon, he said it was part of a set? I think that’s the word you used. Is it possible that he used another term like ‘triptych’? That’s an icon made up of three attached panels.”
    â€œThat sounds right. It always looked to me that the icon he gave me was meant to be connected to another one.”
    â€œAnd did he ever say anything about the other two panels?”
    â€œNo, not to me.”
    Toby asked in turn, “You said that Peter referred to a story in a newspaper that had stirred up an old quarrel in the family. Do you know anything else about it?”
    â€œI’m afraid not. I never saw it.”
    â€œWhat about the newspaper? Did Peter say which paper it was in?”
    â€œI don’t recall, but it probably was the San Francisco Chronicle . That was the paper he always read. He’d carry it around.”
    â€œThen it might be possible for us to track it down,” I pointed out. “But we’d need to know the date. Can you help with that?”
    She shrugged. “Peter died in May, and he gave me the icon a few weeks earlier, which would have been late April. Late April 1962. Does that help?”
    â€œAt least it’s a start.”
    â€œWhat ever happened to Terry, the friend who was with Peter when he died? Did you stay in touch with him?” asked Toby.
    â€œTerry? He also did some art work for The Birds . Yes, we stayed in touch for a while. Then he went out to New York to work as a set designer for the theater. I’d hear from him every now and again. He died, though, a few years ago. Drugs and alcohol, is what I heard.”
    â€œAnd after Peter died, what about you?” I wondered whether she had anyone in her life. “You never married?”
    â€œOh, I had my chances. But I never wanted to, after Peter. He was the one, the love of my life. Not that I lacked for male companionship, mind you. At least until I hit sixty.” She grunted. “Then it was like somebody turned off a switch. But up until then there was usually someone. Peter was the one, though. Guess that’s why I held onto that angel icon all these years—for sentimental reasons, certainly not religious ones.”
    I must have looked curious.
    â€œWhat?” Rose asked. “You want to know my religious views?”
    â€œNot unless you want to talk about them.”
    â€œYou know, I heard a guy on TV last week who had a great theory. He said maybe there are millions of inhabited planets in the universe, and maybe there are different gods for different sectors, you know, like assistants to the Big One. As in any organization, some are capable, some aren’t. Maybe the one watching over our sector has Attention Deficit Disorder. That would explain a lot.”
    Toby chuckled. “Is that what you think?”
    â€œNot really. Let’s just say I’ve worn out a lot of outfits in my time. I’ve tried them on one after another—Catholic, Buddhist, Quaker, New Age, blah, blah, blah, and now I’m tired. I’ll tell you something, though. I’ve been frightened of the idea of death ever since I was a little girl. I know it’s going to happen. But I just never got used to the fear. You know, it’s a strange thing. You can get used to an idea but you can’t get used to a feeling, no matter how long you’ve had it. Either you feel it or you don’t. I’ve been thinking a lot about death again since you told me about the murder. And the feeling is back. Well, maybe something I’ve said today will help the sheriff. I hope so.”
    Toby smiled. “Thanks, Rose. You’ve been very, very helpful. We appreciate it.”
    â€œWe really do.” I stood up to