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The living room was probably the most immaculate one I’d ever seen. I could spot not a single speck of dust, mote of dirt, or even a token dust bunny. In fact everything looked very much in order: books standing to attention like obedient little soldiers on their shelves, knickknacks tastefully distributed across every available surface, and even the color scheme was thoughtfully worked out: plenty of beiges and yellows with just a splash of orange here and there.

“Please take a seat,” Hazel breathed, as she gestured to the upholstered beige couch while she gracefully sank down onto an overstuffed chair. Odelia and Chase did as they were told, and after Hazel had directed a scathing glance in my direction and Dooley’s, presumably warning us not to shedeven a single hair or else, she called out, “Amadeo!”

A funny-looking little man came shuffling into the room. His back was stooped, he was wearing gray slacks, a gray shirt and the last remnants of a gray mop of hair crowning a square head, and from behind thick glasses pale blue eyes stared out at the world with a perpetually puzzled expression.

“Yes, my dear?” he said in mild tones.

“The police,” Hazel introduced us.

“Police?” asked her husband.

“Neda died, remember? I told you about that. They’re here to ask us about her.”

“Neda?” said Amadeo as he carefully lowered his thin frame in the overstuffed chair positioned right next to his wife’s. They formed part of the same set and were both directed at the large television. “Who’s Neda?”

“Neda Hoeppner. You remember,” said Hazel in the tone of a much-put-upon wife.

Amadeo Larobski directed a vague look at his wife.“Neda… Hopper?”

“Hoeppner. Our choir director?”

“Oh, right,” he said, though it was obvious he was still very much in the dark.

“So it has come to our attention that you and Neda didn’t exactly see eye to eye,” Chase explained by way of introduction, setting the tone of the conversation.

“No, we most certainly did not,” Hazel confirmed. When her husband suddenly grabbed a coffee table book from the coffee table and started leafing through it, she immediately took it from his hands and returned it, then made sure it was exactly aligned with the table’s edge. “She knocked outmy husband. Made him lose his marbles.”

“What did you lose?” asked Amadeo with interest.

Hazel opted to ignore him.“She hit him over the head with her baton, he took a bad fall, and he’s been confused and addlebrained ever since.”

“Someone has an adder in his brain?” asked Amadeo, surprised. “Is it someone we know?”

“We talked to Francis Reilly,” said Odelia, “and he told us it was an accident.”

“Of course it was an accident. I don’t think Neda would go and knock people down on purpose,” Hazel said with a touch of annoyance. She’d clearly had this discussion before. “But that doesn’t change the fact that she did it. And that’s the problem: she never admitted her mistake. She never apologized. And she never asked us if there was anything she could do.”

“But you still didn’t quit the choir,” said Chase. “And neither did your husband.”

“St. Theresa Choir is our whole life,” said Hazel as she gave her husband a quick rap across the knuckles when he surreptitiously tried to sneak that book from the table again. “We’ve been in that choir since before we were married. We met in that choir, and got engaged, then married, had three kids…” Her eyes drifted to a set of picture frames on the shelves. They were a wedding photo of a much younger Hazel and Amadeo, and next to that several pictures of kids and grandkids. “The choir sang at our wedding, at every christening, at birthdays, jubilees, but also funerals—my parents and Amadeo’s… Every important moment in our lives is tied up with the choir. You don’t leave something that’s been part of your life just because you don’t like the new conductor, Detective.”

“There will be others,” suddenly Amadeo piped up.

“Other what, Mr. Larobski?” asked Odelia kindly.

“Other… what were we talking about?”

“Choir directors,” said his wife stiffly.

“There will be other choir directors,” said Amedeo with a happy nod.

“That is definitely true,” said Hazel. “And a good thing, too.”

Chase cleared his throat.“Can you please tell us where you both were this morning between eleven-thirty and twelve, Mrs. Larobski?”

“You don’t think we had anything to do with Neda’s death, do you?”

“Simply a routine inquiry,” Odelia explained. “We need to verify people’s whereabouts so we can create a clear picture of Neda’s day.”

“Well, I certainly wasn’t part of that picture,” said Hazel, who was sitting ramrod straight, eyes alert. “We had choir practice until eleven, then we came straight home. Isn’t that true, Amadeo?”

“Mh?” said her husband, looking up with a dreamy expression on his face.

“We came straight home after choir practice!” she said, raising her voice and enunciating a little more clearly.

“Oh, yes, of course,” he said. “We always do, don’t we? Choir practice and straight home for lunch.”

“You have lunch at eleven?” asked Chase.