Page 38 of Death on Gallows Path

“He was racing around, sliding on the hardwood floors and she was screaming about his nails scratching them. If there are scratches, it’s from Zoley’s spike heels, not Lucifer— Anyway, he jumped up on the white couch and I thought Pammy’s voice might break all the glass shelves. Thought Lucifer would come right out of his skin and I’d have to peel him off the ceiling.”

Clara and I shared a quick look that said, Pammy? Losing control?

Neither of us would have blinked if she’d said Zoley.

Willow shook her head, presumably at the memory. “I was trying to corral him, which wasn’t easy with her screaming. Screaming at him, screaming at me, screaming at Damon.”

I thought of the way Willow earlier said never heard first, before replacing it with never saw.

Because she’d remembered that she had heard something?

“Did he respond?”

“Sort of. He swore a bunch, shouting around the corner of the upstairs hall, saying he was busy. Said her screeching upset the dog and she had to control herself before she could control the dog.”

Leo would be pleased to know someone in that group remembered his words . . . though shouting them wasn’t the ideal delivery method.

“I don’t know. I got him — Lucifer — out of there as fast as I could.”

Kit says sometimes you find out more with an assumption that prompts someone to correct you than with a direct question.

“The couples must do a lot of things together.”

“I guess. Went out to dinner. The dog training.” Her brows tented at running out of additions after that short list. Then her expression cleared. “Zoley and Pammy grew up together. Zoley said that.”

“Where?”

“Um. Somewhere else in Kentucky . . .?” She made it into a question. “They went to the same school. Not like a regular school. She said Pammy had a scholarship even though it was before college.”

“Did she tell you a lot about their going to school together? Any memories or how they met or their families?”

She shook her head before saying, “No.”

“Or how the women met their husbands?”

She shook her head more strongly.

“What about their other friends?” Clara asked. “People they hang out with, do things with?”

Willow went rosy again, but enough of a different tinge to think embarrassment, rather than pleasure.

“I don’t know anything about that man. And I—”

She was about to skitter off completely so I might as well be blunt.

“What man?”

And darned if that didn’t stop her retreat.

“I don’t know him. He showed up one day as I was leaving. Damon pulled in the garage, and this guy in a pickup was right behind him. I thought he was going to plow into the back of Damon’s big truck. He slammed on the brakes just in time.

“He came out of the truck and Damon came from inside the garage — the door was still open — and they were both shouting and I thought they were going to fight. I froze, kind of hidden behind the evergreen at the corner of the garage, hoping they wouldn’t see me.”

“What were they shouting about?” I asked.

“It was so loud and there was so much swearing, it was hard to tell.” Her gaze went slightly unfocused. “Something about lying and being a sleaze — that was the other guy to Damon. And Damon said something like It’s your own fault. Man up. And something about Her choice. That’s when the other guy charged at Damon.”

“What did you do?” Clara asked with empathy.