Still, when the son wasn’t racing around, threatening one of Bertie’s antiques, the family seemed pleasant. She talked about the museum, and they said they would come by, which would be good for Caroline’s parents, who needed all the business they could get.
She wasn’t sure if she was relieved that Caleb Anderson wasn’t there, or if she missed sparring with him. He seemed to have an amazing ability to control his emotions, answering her evenly no matter what she said to him. She still wasn’t sure how she felt about the man. He worked for Adam Harrison, which was certainly in his favor. Granted, she didn’t know Adam that well, but she certainly knew him by reputation, and knew that he was trusted by every government agency out there. Of course, there were those who might think that made him suspicious from the get-go, but she wasn’t the type to see a government conspiracy around every corner. She had talked with Adam often enough to be convinced that he was an honorable man. But that only went so far. Caleb was his own person, and she had to judge him on his own merits.
As she and the Petersons talked, Sarah enjoyed her eggs Benedict, shaved potatoes with cheese and fruit with yogurt. When she had finished eating, she told the Petersons she would see them later and went back to her room. She still had a good fifteen minutes left to drop her bag in the carriage house and get to work.
When she reached her house, she saw a number of cars in the driveway, including the M.E.’s van that belonged to Floby, rumored to be the best of the local medical examiners. Sarah had met Floby shortly after her return to the city; he attended most community and city hall meetings, and loved St. Augustine with a passion.
She didn’t recognize the other vehicles, except for the unmarked sedan that Tim Jamison drove. Poor Tim. He must have felt the way she did about so much happening at once. At least her only other stress involved getting the house ready to receive paying guests, while Tim was spearheading the investigation into the disappearance of Winona Hart. Sarah herself hadn’t known the girl even existed until she saw the headlines trumpeting her disappearance and the fact that Tim was lead detective on the case, since she hadn’t been part of the intimate world of the historic district.
Sarah was suddenly angry with herself for not taking the girl’s disappearance more to heart. She argued inwardly that it was impossible for any one human being to take on the pain of the whole world, and the truth was that there was nothing she could do, nothing she could do that would help. If she could do something, she would. But she couldn’t think of anything she could possibly do that the police weren’t already doing.
She steered clear of the house and all the activity going on there and let herself quietly into the carriage house, deposited her bag, then left quickly, walking on toward the museum.
But as she walked, she found herself thinking about the people whose remains had ended up in her walls.
She was sorry they’d ended up that way, of course. But they had probably lived and died in the normal way, and after that…well, the body was just a shell. It was nothing once death had taken the heart, mind and soul.
On the other hand, the grim discovery was bound to make for some great ghost stories, that was for sure. What better way to lure the tourists than with tales of misty figures who walked the halls demanding a proper burial?
She was suddenly anxious to get her hands on the historical records and learn more about the mortician who was undoubtedly behind the nasty scheme that had led to the deads’ unorthodox entombment. Three hours of work, and then she would be off for lunch. That would be a great time to run over to the privately owned historical society library, which was open to the public several days a week.