"Morning, noon, and night," I echoed, plucking my suspenders, and swiveling around once in my chair. "You betcha. But, by way of background, how did you meet your husband?" "Well, I was in the business, of course." "Of course." "So I auditioned for Erskine and bingo! I got the part." "Bingo." I imagined the staging of that little rhumba. "Then before I knew it, he asked. And bingo! I was his wife." "Bingo again. Honeymoon Hotel." "Of course we were happy. What do you think? Until that little serpent entered the garden." Somehow I just couldn't see Nellie Dillard as a serpent. A gerbil perhaps. But not a serpent. "Was there any recent change in your husband's behavior or attitude, Mrs. Prescott?"

"Well, without getting too personal" She pulled a gold cigarette case from her purse and held it out to me. "He suffered from terrific headaches. Especially at night. And in the morning he woke so pale andand"

"Wraith-like."

"Yeah. I thought it was some kind of, you know, iron deficiency thing, so I pumped him up with every kind of remedy on the market, and some that weren't. To keep up his strength, you see. But still, every morning he looked like a cadaver, like the pep and vitality was being drained right out of him. Why I even let him sleep alone after he begged me. One night a week, that is. Still, I could see he was fading fast."

"Poor slob. And then bingo! He was gone."

"You said it. Out the door. Both him and the mouse. And without even a word of goodbye. Just those."