The Marsh Madness

I managed a smile as though they were here collecting for some local police charity. Tyler Dekker shuffled his feet and squinted in an imitation of a smile. Where was his toothy grin, with the little gap that I love so much?

My own smile may have dipped a bit when the woman with him produced her badge. “Jordan Bingham?” She was tall with near-ebony skin, close-cropped hair and a smart, edgy look.

“Yes.”

“Lieutenant Drea Castellano. Harrison Falls Police Department.”

I blinked again. So many surprises. So little time. Lieutenant? Whoa.

The man next to her said nothing, although he waved a badge languidly in my general direction.

She said with a bit of bite to her tone, “And this is Detective Sergeant Stoddard.”

Stoddard gave the slightest suggestion of a shrug, as if anything more would have been too much effort. They must have had quite a ride over together. I knew a bit about Stoddard from Smiley. The part I knew was “lazy” and “conceited.” I figured Stoddard had expected he’d been a shoo-in for that lieutenant’s job until she showed up, but that was mere speculation.

Smiley had failed to mention that the new lieutenant was a knockout.

I tried not to stare at her. “Yes?”

“And I understand you know Officer Dekker. May we come in?”

I hesitated. Old habits die hard. “Of course, but may I ask what it’s about?”

“We’d like to talk to you and . . .”—she glanced down at a paper in her hand—”. . . a Kevin Kelly and a Vera Van Alst.”

A Vera Van Alst? As if there was more than one! It didn’t bode well for our interview.

Smiley stared at his feet.

“I’ll see if they’re at home.” I led them into the grand foyer, doing my best to look dignified and calm. There are no chairs in the foyer, so they’d have to stand and stew while I pretended to see if Vera and Kev were “at home.”

I hotfooted like Walter down the endless corridor and arrived breathless at the conservatory.

“The police want to speak to you,” I said.

She waved a dismissive hand. “Send them away.”

“Um, it doesn’t work that way, Vera.”

“Well, what do they want? This isn’t the time of day for visits.” She glanced at her New York Times puzzle with resentment.

“I don’t know. But we have to see them. They want to talk to you and me and Kevin.”

Kev was probably tunneling under the St. Lawrence River to Canada by this point.

“Mr. Kelly had an errand,” she said. “Not sure when he’ll be back.”

I sighed. “We’ll have to do, then. Here?”

“Certainly not. This is private space. Take them to the study if you can’t get rid of them.”


*

MINUTES LATER, I escorted them into Vera’s study. The dyspeptic Van Alst ancestors had glared at them during the longish walk. Vera was seated in her wheelchair behind the beautiful Edwardian desk.

She nodded gravely as they introduced themselves.

The woman officer glanced around at the ten-foot ceilings and the long, faded silk draperies on the Georgian-style windows. It was a room to remember. I love the study. It was here that I first convinced Vera to hire me as her researcher. She hadn’t thought much of me or the idea, but that was then. She’s gradually coming around.

I gestured to the pair of chairs in front of Vera’s desk. I perched at the edge of the velvet fainting coach, faded to pale amethyst after all these years. I patted the seat beside me so that Tyler Dekker would also sit. For some reason he was sweating.

“Well,” Vera growled. “What can I do for you?”

Lieutenant Castellano—apparently unaccustomed to being growled at by women in wheelchairs—flashed her a look. A dangerous little flash, that.

“We’d like to know your whereabouts yesterday.”

Vera looked bored. “We had luncheon at a colleague’s home.”

Colleague? I loved that.

The detective nodded. “I’d like to discuss that with you.”

“Discuss?” Vera said.

“Alone.”

Vera raised an eyebrow. “Alone?”

“That’s right.”

“You mean without Miss Bingham?”

“Correct again.”