The Good, the Bad, and the Emus(93)

“But not very likely.” She was unsnapping the radio from her belt. “I need to talk to Dr. Blake to be sure. Can you get me a copy of that photo?”

I nodded.

“Marvin,” she said into the radio. “You’re still with Dr. Blake, aren’t you? Okay, precisely where are you?”

I left her to it. I took Caroline’s laptop back to the table where she’d been sitting and watched as the files finished copying onto the hard drive. Then I sat, clicking through the photos, until Caroline returned.

“Do you have another one of these things?” I pointed to the flash drive. “Chief Heedles would like some of these photos.”

Caroline frowned, but didn’t ask questions. She darted out of the tent and returned a moment or so later with another flash drive. I copied not just the photo with Williams in it but all the pictures Thor had taken in December.

Chief Heedles appeared at my elbow just as the copy finished.

“Here.” I handed her the flash drive.

“Keep this under your hat,” she said, and strode off.

I nodded.

“What do Thor’s emu shots have to do with the murder?” Caroline asked.

“Nothing, I hope,” I said. It wasn’t exactly a lie, but it wasn’t much of an answer. If it had been just Caroline standing there, I’d have told her, but several other people had arrived to join the chow line and were within earshot. I hated the notion that the killer might be someone using Blake’s Brigade as cover for his crimes. I wasn’t about to spread rumors to that effect before we were sure.

“I’m going over to see how Miss Annabel is doing,” I said.

“Take her some breakfast,” Caroline suggested. “She’s probably tired of whatever she can fix without her stove.”

That sounded like a good idea, so I filled one takeaway box with bacon, sausage, scrambled eggs, ham, breakfast potatoes, and toast, and another with fruit.

I paused long enough to wave at the boys as Caroline’s caravan drove off, and take a few cell phone shots of them driving the horse—or at least holding the reins. The horse didn’t seem to need much guidance. Then I hiked across the field to Miss Annabel’s house.

She opened the back door before I could knock.

“What’s going on?” she asked. “Dwight came over to check on me, but he hasn’t heard a thing.”

“No one’s heard much yet,” I said. “I’ll tell you what I know over breakfast.”

“I can’t offer you anything but cold cereal.”

“Breakfast is on me,” I said. “Actually, it’s on Grandfather—he likes to eat well on these shindigs, so the quantity and the quality of the food is usually pretty good.”

“Monty’s paying for all this?” she said. “Good. What’s for lunch and dinner? And when is it? You don’t need to bring it if you don’t have time. I’ll send Dwight over.”

“You’ll hear the bell ring,” I said. “No idea what’s on the menu, though. Sorry—I should have thought of this as soon as the power went out.”

I set the takeout boxes down on her kitchen table and opened them up. Miss Annabel perked up at the sight of the food.

“You’re a lifesaver,” she said. “Dwight! Chow’s on.”

As she and Dr. Ffollett dug into the contents of the takeout boxes, I told them everything I knew. Including the suspicion that had suddenly fallen on Jim Williams.

“A mining engineer!” Annabel exclaimed. “Now that’s highly suspicious.”

“We don’t know that he’s a mining engineer,” I said. “Only that he used to work for a mining company. He could have been a bookkeeper in their accounting department for all we know.”

“Still—a mining company.”

“You’ve got something against mining companies?” I asked. “They’re not all environmental menaces hell-bent on pillaging the countryside.”

“No, but the bad ones do exist,” Annabel said. “And it only takes one bad one to ruin things for everyone here. And it worries me that someone from a mining company has been sniffing around up at Biscuit Mountain.”

“Sniffing around for what—do you have any idea? Like kyanite, maybe?” I remembered that the blue crystal Rose Noire loved was found on Biscuit Mountain.

“Kyanite and kaolin,” she said. “They’re related minerals. Not as valuable as gold or diamonds, but they have their industrial uses.”

“Kaolin’s what you make porcelain with, right?” I asked. “I remember reading that the Biscuit Mountain Art Pottery Works dug its own china clay.”