Wanda Beaman didn't seem happy or unhappy to see me, though her expectant expression told me she figured I'd stop for a chat despite my present activity. I did just that, curious enough to find her standing on the side of the path, not walking as most people did, but staring into the lake with a sour expression on her flat, plain face.
"Miss Fleming," she said, nodding to me. "Shame about you finding Lester Patterson's body like that. You okay?"
I wasn't expecting sympathy from the hard-faced and rather blunt businesswoman, so her attitude startled me enough I felt a pang of connection I wasn't planning on. "I'm kind of used to it by now," I said, not as much of a joke as I'd originally meant. After all, I'd been stumbling over death since I got home, hadn't I?