Randall made a snorting noise that I suspected was suppressed laughter.
“Define harassment,” the chief said.
“Patting me on the rear,” I said. “Finding it necessary to squeeze past me when I was standing in a narrow space. Stuff like that.”
“And this was typical of his behavior toward the women in the house?”
“As far as I know, yes,” I said. “He was a pig. And it’s possible he was more offensive toward the women who weren’t as comfortable confronting him. Rose Noire thinks Vermillion had some kind of run-in with him, so she and Mother made sure never to leave her alone. And I wonder about Violet, or even Sarah.”
The chief nodded.
“You were going to give me the full contact information for all the designers,” he asked.
I pulled out my notebook and handed him the photocopy I’d made.
“While I’m here—” I began.
“Meg!” It was Mother. “Are you really all right?”
She put her hand to my forehead, as if expecting the shock of encountering a murderer to have given me a dangerous fever.
“I’m fine,” I said.
“James, you were supposed to call me once you’d seen her.” Mother turned to Dad with a look of deep disappointment on her face.
“I was caught up in the case,” Dad said. “Trying to find whoever took a shot at Meg.”
Mother looked somewhat mollified.
“And do you have any idea how soon we can get back to work?” she asked, turning to the chief.
“I’m going to hold the master bedroom a few more hours,” the chief said. “But there’s no reason not to release the rest of the house. If you don’t mind, I’d like to ask you a few questions, and when I’m done, I can let you get back to your work.”
“That would be fine,” Mother said.
“Here, take my chair.” I stood up and stepped aside. “Chief, may I do a tour of inspection?”
“Just stay out of the master suite till I give the word,” he said. “I’ll be interviewing all the designers this morning. Try to avoid discussing the case with any of them until after I’ve had my chance. Sammy!”
The deputy raced into the study.
“Start calling the designers.” The chief held out his copy of my contact list. “Start with Mr. Goodwin.”
“Right, chief!” Sammy dashed out again.
Randall, Dad, and I followed, and the chief closed the French doors that separated the study from the foyer.
“Meg, if you’re sure you’re all right…” Dad began.
“Nothing wrong with me that a real night’s sleep won’t fix,” I said.
“Then I’m going to head down to the hospital,” he said. “I don’t want to miss the autopsy.”
He dashed out.
“I’ve already got a punch list of things we need to fix,” Randall said. “Most of them in the master bedroom, so I’ll have to wait till Horace finishes his forensic work. In here, nothing much. Couple broken crystals in the chandelier, and a bullet hole over there.”
He point to one wall.
“That’s a bullet hole?” I exclaimed. The hole was more fist- than bullet-sized.
“Okay, the hole where Horace dug out the bullet. Looked to me like a .22, which is also what I bet they’ll be taking out of Clay. I saw the wound. Luckily the bullet that hit the chandelier just ricocheted and landed down the hall. Anyway, we can patch the hole pretty quick, though I’m afraid Miss Ivy will need to redo that part of her mural.”
Poor Ivy. She had already been worrying about how to finish all the walls. And she was making it harder for herself by having pretty much nothing but wall. At the moment, the only pieces of furniture in any of her spaces were a small nondescript cabinet in the back of the foyer and a large bronze Art Nouveau umbrella stand beside the front door. I had a feeling she was only using the cabinet to store her paints in and would whisk it away before the house opened. The umbrella stand was probably staying, because she clearly enjoyed seeing her painting of “The Little Match Girl” peeping out from behind it. Maybe I should suggest altering her design to cover the unpainted stretches with a big piece of furniture or a tapestry.
No, better not. I’d figured out that the designers rarely appreciated what I thought were brilliant practical suggestions.
“We’ve pretty much cleaned up what the water leak did to the den,” Randall said. We both glanced over at the French doors. Mother was gesticulating dramatically. I suspected she was giving the chief chapter and verse of Clay’s sins.
I walked through all the rooms, starting with the upstairs, with Randall trailing me. We found a few small things to add to his list, but none of them appeared to be the result of the intruder. No sign that the intruder had damaged anything on his flight path through the Princess Room, the back bathroom, the quilt room, or the garage. No sign that he’d been in the Goth room, the kitchen, the dining room, or the great room.