“Maybe later,” I said finally. “Has Michael seen them?”
“He thinks they’re fine,” she said. “But I would feel better if you saw them before we get started, and we need to do that soon if—”
“Right now, I’m not sure Chief Burke will even let you do any decorating,” I said. “He might consider the whole house part of the crime scene.”
“Crime scene?” Mother asked. Her hand flew to her throat in a characteristic gesture of genteel astonishment. I sighed. I’d forgotten that the rest of the household might not have heard about Dr. Wright. Mother, for example, had probably been too busy with her decorating plans to notice.
“We’ve had a suspicious death,” I said. “Probably no one you know,” I added, to quell the growing alarm on her face. “A Dr. Wright from the English department.”
“Oh, dear,” Mother said. “The English department? Is this apt to have any unfortunate effect on, well, circumstances?”
“You mean on Michael’s tenure prospects?” I’ve never been noted for subtlety. “If anything, this should improve them, since it would be hard to find anyone in the English department who hated him more than Dr. Wright.”
“I see,” Mother said. I could tell she disapproved of my bluntness at the same time as she appreciated the information. And I hoped she wasn’t about to say anything about a silver lining.
“Of course, this means Michael is a suspect,” I said. “We all are.”
“I’m sure that the chief will sort everything out,” Mother said. “Such a nice man. Where is he? I’ll just make sure he’s comfortable with our continuing the work on the nursery.”
“He’s in the library,” I said. “With the body.”
She sailed off. I wondered if Mother’s current positive opinion of the chief would survive if he vetoed her plan to redecorate the nursery, or worse, blasted her for interrupting his investigation.
Not my problem.
I heard them talking out in the hall for a few minutes. I felt curiously indifferent to the outcome of their conversation. If I’d known this morning that Mother was planning a kamikaze decorating raid, I’d have reacted with angst and anger. But now? I found it hard to care.
“Sorry to keep you waiting,” the chief said. I opened my eyes to see him seating himself in one of Michael’s guest chairs. Had he forgotten my warning, or did he think I was exaggerating? He’d find out. “Now, let’s—hang on a second.”
Something beeped, and he reached in his pocket and pulled out a cell phone. He flipped it open and frowned at the screen.
“Text message,” he said. “I hate text messages.” He peered over his glasses at the phone, tentatively punched a few keys, and then frowned more deeply and continued staring at his cell phone as if expecting it to turn into an adder and bite him.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“I called Dr. Smoot,” the chief said. “And I left a message for him to call me back ASAP on police business. Does that seem unreasonable?”
“No,” I said. “You’ve got a murder. You need the medical examiner.”
“Acting medical examiner,” the chief corrected. There was no love lost between the two at the best of times. “And he texted me back—is that a verb, texted?”
“If it isn’t, it will be eventually,” I said. “What did he text—er, say?”
“That he couldn’t because he was in no this week. What does he mean, ‘in no’? Is that some kind of flippant refusal? Like get lost?”
“Probably just a typo,” I said. “Maybe he was typing something that began with n-o and hit send before he finished.”
“Well if that’s the case, he should have sent a follow-up message to explain,” the chief grumbled. “And he was pretty emphatic. Not just no but NO, in caps.”
“Oh, he means New Orleans,” I said.
“Well, how the dickens am I supposed to know that?” the chief said. “And what the devil is he doing there?”
“Taking that tour of the famous vampire hangouts in New Orleans,” I said. “He’s been talking about doing that for ages. Fictional vampire hangouts, of course,” I added, seeing the chief’s reaction. Chief Burke had little sympathy with his acting medical examiner’s passion for the supernatural.
“Fine way for a grown man to spend his time,” the chief said. “Not to mention the fact that he’s not around when I need him.”
“Next time I plan a murder, I’ll make sure he’s on the invitation list,” I murmured.