“Sure,” I said. “But it’s late, you know. Past ten. I’m not sure she’ll let us in, even if she’s still up.”
“Not sure she’ll let me in, you mean.” We got into her car and she started the engine. “Especially considering that on my way here I spotted Dr. Ffollett’s car in front of her house. I know if I ask to see her he’ll tell me she’s taken a sedative and gone to bed. And I can imagine how she’d react if I flashed my badge and forced my way in. Hang on a sec.”
She had just turned from the dirt road onto the highway. She pulled her car over onto the shoulder and stopped. We were out of sight of anyone in camp and not yet visible from Miss Annabel’s house.
“Want to give me that candy box now?”
I pulled my trusty lime-green glove out of my pocket, put it on, then fished the box out of my tote. The chief pulled out gloves of her own—much more official-looking ones—and studied the box with interest.
“Dare I hope you were wearing those gloves when she handed it to you?” she asked.
I nodded.
“But I assume Miss Annabel handled it,” she said. “No reason for her not to. We probably still have her prints on file from when her cousin was killed. At least I hope so. Lord knows how much of a fuss she’ll make if we have to send over someone to fingerprint her again. Let’s go on to the house. Maybe I can interview her through the front door.”
She started up the car and we drove the rest of the way to Miss Annabel’s house. Dr. Ffollett opened the door as she was parking the car and came dashing down to the gate.
“She was very upset,” he said. “She’s—”
“Asleep and under sedation?” the chief finished for him. Dr. Ffollett nodded. “I expected as much. Any chance she told you what happened before she dropped off? Like when she found this box of candy?”
“Actually, I found it,” Dr. Ffollett said. “People looking for the campground kept knocking on her door, so sometime around ten I came over to fend them off. The candy was lying on her doormat when I got here. She didn’t even know it was there until I brought it in.”
Was he telling the truth? Or was he pretending to have found the candy so Annabel wouldn’t have to talk to the police? The chief questioned him sharply but he didn’t seem to have any more useful information.
“Call me if you think of anything else useful,” she said finally. “That goes for Miss Annabel, too. And don’t tell anyone about this. We’re going to keep it quiet for now.”
Dr. Ffollett nodded solemnly and watched through the gate as the chief and I got back into her car. Chief Heedles seemed to brooding over something as she started the car and headed back to camp.
“So I should keep quiet about the candy, too?” I asked after a few moments.
“Please.”
“So are you planning to get an identical box of chocolates, pass them around, and see who turns pale and refuses to eat any?”
“It’s a thought,” she said.
“I could do it, you know,” I said. “I could say she ate a few and gave me the rest for my sons. And I could do it sometime when you’re out at camp so you could watch.”
“I’ll think about it,” she said.
“So do you think Dr. Ffollett’s telling the truth?” I asked after a few moments.
“Did anything he said contradict what she told you?” the chief asked.
I thought it over and then shook my head.
“We may never know,” she said. “Any idea why someone would want to kill both Miss Annabel and your grandfather? Any connection between the two of them?”
“Apart from the fact that they both want to rescue the emus?” I felt a little guilty about concealing the one other connection I knew about, but I couldn’t see how it could possibly be relevant.
“If you think of anything,” she said as she dropped me off at the edge of camp. “Or hear anything.”
I nodded, and watched as she slowly drove off.
Camp had grown quiet. Grandfather’s Airstream was dark. Two men in lawn chairs sat just outside its door. One appeared to be playing a game on his phone and the other was sipping from a mug and contemplating the increasingly cloudy sky.
I had to smile when I reached Rose Noire’s tent, which was just across from ours. It had originally been white canvas, but she’d dyed it lavender and invited the whole family to help paint or stencil decorations on it in purple and green paint along with several pounds of gold glitter. Even the boys had contributed, and the tent rivaled the multicolored glory of Caroline’s caravan.
She was sitting cross-legged in front of her tent, using a flashlight to read a thick book. A stack of other books rested on the ground beside her.