She wasn’t bobbing tonight. She only stared down at me and blinked, in slow motion, as if asking me what I was doing here. Good question.
“Dad, can you keep an eye on things here while Michael and I go into town to see Giles?” I said, still watching Sophie.
“Don’t tell me the jail has visiting hours this late,” Dad said.
“Not until morning,” Sammy said.
“Actually, we hope the lawyer will get him bailed out soon, and we can take him home,” I said.
“Can’t the lawyer do that?” Dad asked.
“The lawyer could,” I said. “But Michael thinks Giles would appreciate seeing a few familiar faces, and I want to hear Giles’s side of the story.”
“Ah,” Dad said, nodding. “Get him off his guard and interrogate him. Good plan.”
“Not exactly,” I said. “We’re on his side, remember?”
“That’s right,” Dad said. “But I have to admit, in a way, it’s a pity. Giles would make such a perfect defendant.”
“That’s not fair,” I said. “Just because he’s a bit stiff and pompous—”
“I didn’t mean that at all,” Dad said. “Do you really think he’s pompous? I thought he was a friend of yours.”
“Sorry,” I said. “I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions about what you meant. It’s just that I’ve noticed that people who don’t know him get that impression.”
Including me, when I first met him.
“I just meant that he would be a very distinguished defendant,” Dad said. “Cultured, well-spoken, and … well, handsome doesn’t apply, I suppose, but he’s …”
“Appealing, in an untidy, bookish, professorial fashion,” I suggested.
“Yes, that’s the ticket,” Dad said. “And very suitable, too. I mean, it’s a much classier murder than most, isn’t it? Killing someone over a book, instead of drugs or money or infidelity or any of those typical motives. And a vintage mystery book, to boot—I really like that part.”
“I’m sure it will be a comfort to Gordon at that great yard sale in the sky, knowing he made an atypically classy exit. And to Giles when he’s put on Death Row.”
“Laugh if you like,” Dad said, in a tone of mild reproach. “I’m just saying that when you finally identify the real culprit, I hope it’s someone … um …”
“Equally classy, but not so nice?” I suggested. “I’ll remember that tomorrow when I start auditioning candidates for the role of the real killer. Meanwhile, I want to interrogate—I mean talk to Giles. Just to see if he knows anything we can use to shake Chief Burke’s belief in his guilt. You know, if I were an evil person, I’d point out to the chief that there was probably an eyewitness to the murder.”
“An eyewitness!” Dad exclaimed.
“Meg,” Sammy said, very solemnly. “You should have mentioned this to the chief earlier.”
“It wouldn’t do any good,” I said. “You’ll never get him to talk.”
“Who?” Dad asked, while Sammy shook his head with a worried air.
“Him.” I pointed to Spike.
“Hmm,” Dad said, looking at Spike. “You’re right. He could very well have been in the barn when it happened.”
“And look how cheerful he is,” I said. “He’s not usually this happy unless he’s bitten someone quite recently. He probably enjoyed the vicarious bloodshed.”
“You could be right,” Sammy said. “Do you suppose we should test him for blood spatter?”
“What good would that do?” I asked. “For one thing, he probably does have blood spatter on him; he must have bitten three people today alone. But even if you found Gordon’s blood on him, all that would prove was that he might have been in the barn at the time of Gordon’s murder, which isn’t exactly relevant. That bookend weighs more than Spike, and I’m pretty sure the murderer had opposable thumbs.”
“I should tell the chief, though,” Sammy said. “Don’t give him a bath until I find out if we need to test him.”
“A bath? Do I look like a masochist?” I said. “But if you like, you can take him into protective custody.”
“No, thanks,” Sammy said.
“Released on his own recognizance,” Dad said.
I was about to leave them to their fun when I saw Sophie close her eyes and shudder slightly.
“Dad,” I said. “I think something’s wrong with Sophie.”
Chapter 21