“And you?” he demanded of Phoebe.
She stared back at him in horror. “Miss Everett walked me to my room last night. Damn you! Why will no one listen to me? The ghost did it.”
“I want this place shut down to the public immediately,” Forester told Emil Roth. “And no one leaves.”
He made the announcement as if that were the answer to the dilemma.
“I don’t really have anywhere else to go,” Mr. Green muttered.
They heard activity at the door. The medical examiner had arrived. Forester told the group to stay in the Great Hall. Sloan ignored the order, getting a nod from Logan, and followed out on the heels of the detective.
The medical examiner shook his head as he stared at the corpse. “I’ll get her temperature for time of death—”
“We know the damned time of death,” Forester snapped. “Can’t you tell if she was pushed or not?”
“When I have time for an autopsy,” the man snapped back.
“Doctor,” Sloan asked. “Did you discover anything yesterday that might have caused the reverend to fall? I heard he had a bad heart.”
The medical examiner looked at him and nodded. “He was a walking time bomb. There was damage to his heart. Whether that caused his fall or not, I don’t know. But he didn’t suffer a heart attack before he came crashing down the stairs. And Mrs. Avery, I think she was in decent health. She certainly appeared to be.”
Sloan said, “But she didn’t fall from the top of the stairs. We were out in the hallway on that landing and we didn’t see her.” He actually hadn’t been on the landing himself. Logan had been there. But, to Sloan’s knowledge, Logan never missed anything.
“She fell from midway up?” Forester asked.
“She had to have. She was never on the second floor landing,” Sloan said.
“It’s a broken neck for sure,” the medical examiner said. “If you want to know more, I’ll be able to tell you in a few hours. She’ll be an immediate priority at the morgue.”
Forester thanked him. The medical examiner looked at Sloan and nodded. He had the feeling that he’d be getting any information just as quickly as Forester.
“What do you have to say?” Forester asked, looking at Sloan.
“I don’t know what is happening any more than you do,” Sloan said. “But three people breaking their necks on a stairway in a matter of years—two of them within two days? I don’t see that as accidents, nor as coincidences. Something is going on here.”
“You are saying that these people have been murdered?” Forester asked.
“I’d say it’s likely.”
“And what do you say we do to find out what is happening?”
Sloan was surprised. Forester’s anger was all bluster. He was bewildered. There were no knives involved, no guns, no gang wars, and no obvious motive for killing. A husband hadn’t gotten too angry with a wife. A mistress hadn’t suddenly turned on a man who’d promised to leave his wife and marry her.
And yet, people were dead.
“Detective, we’ve been researching everyone here. We expect some reports this morning. But, questioning the people here could prove helpful.”
Forester nodded. “I’ll do it. Whatever you find out, you’ll tell me, right?”
“Of course. This is your jurisdiction. We just happen to be here. We’re happy to help. But I need to get together with my team.”
Forester nodded and seemed better equipped to take control. “I’ll see the employees one by one in the Great Hall. You and your team may return to your rooms. I’ll send the cooks and the maids to the kitchen and start with Mrs. Avery’s assistant.”
Forester walked ahead of Sloan to return to the Great Hall. When they were there, he announced his intentions. “Chef, you and your helpers stay together. Miss Martin, Miss Anderson, Miss Adkins, you will stay together, too. You’re welcome to wait your turn in the kitchen. Mr. Roth, we’ll have to speak with you, but you’re welcome to return to your room until Detective Flick comes to bring you down. Please understand, no one is being accused of anything but we must ascertain what happened here. Therefore, I need to speak with all of you, one by one. Mr. Green, you may return to your apartment. Just be ready to speak to us when we call you.”
For a moment, everyone was dead still. Then, Chef rose. “Coffee sounds damned good. And breakfast. Detectives? Should I plan for you, too?”
Sloan was surprised when Forester looked at him—as if for approval.
“Chef, it’s kind of you to look out for everyone,” Sloan said.
He motioned to Logan, Kelsey, and Jane. As the others shuffled out, except for Scully Adair, who looked like a caged mouse, he and the Krewe members made their way to the stairs and up to the bridal suite.
“It wasn’t Mrs. Avery after all,” Logan said dryly, stating the obvious.
“Whatever motive could there be?” Kelsey asked.