knocking Charles’s hand away.
Signaling to one of his men, the sheriff leafed through a stack of papers the officer handed to him, then smiled. “Okay, folks. Looks like we have everything we need.”
“Does that mean we can go?” Forest asked.
“There’s just one more thing. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t talk about the case with anyone.” He glanced around, waiting for signs of cooperation, then pointed to a gangly deputy with a clipboard. “You all know Deputy Brill. He’s going to be handing out business cards with both my home and office numbers on them. If you remember anything, anything at all, call me.”
The group nodded, then stood in unison like boot camp recruits being dismissed for the first time. Several of them murmured good-byes, Lark tossed Rachel a wave, and Charles pecked Miriam’s cheek. Gertie stopped at the door and drew the sheriff aside.
“I wish I was a knot in the wall so I could hear what she’s telling him,” Rachel whispered to Miriam. She would lay odds it had something to do with Bursau’s quick checkout on Monday afternoon. Deputy Brill shot Rachel a dirty look, and gestured for her to move to a different chair.
Harry was almost out the door when the sheriff intercepted him. “I still have a few questions for you, if you don’t mind. In here.” Garcia gestured toward the kitchen. “And I’d appreciate it if you’d wait here in the living room, Mrs. Stanhope.”
A dejected-looking Harry followed the sheriff into the kitchen, and Rachel slumped into the seat Gertie had vacated. After a moment, Miriam rose.
“If you don’t mind, dear, I think I’ll go up to bed.” She looked exhausted, with dark circles under her eyes, her pale skin wrinkled with worry.
“That’s a good idea, Aunt Miriam. It looks like this may take a while.”
“You can wake me when you’re finished, if you like.”
“Let’s see how it goes. If you’re sleeping, we can talk in the morning.”
Miriam nodded, her eyes closed. Though middle-aged, tonight she looked old.
“Good night, dear.”
“Good night, Aunt Miriam.”
Two magazines and a cup of coffee later, Rachel looked up as Harry bolted from the kitchen. He flashed Rachel a thumbs-up, then scampered for the door.
Deputy Brill escorted Rachel to where Garcia was ensconced in the breakfast nook. A cozy cranny built into an oversized bay window, it consisted of a small table flanked by built-in benches. Green-and-white checked curtains draped the windows, and matching material covered the thick foam cushions that softened the seats. Rachel slid onto the unoccupied bench.
“So, we meet again.”
“Tell me, Mrs. Stanhope,” Garcia said without preamble, “exactly what happened out there tonight?”
She met his gaze squarely. “Call me Rachel. And how many times are you going to make me repeat the story? We’ve gone over and over this. Everything’s in my statement.”
“I’d like to hear it again, if you don’t mind.”
Obviously the sheriff was fishing for something. “Maybe it would be easier if you just tell me what you want to hear.”
Garcia smiled patiently, crossed his arms, and leaned back against the bench.
Rachel gave up on the idea of soaking her bones warm in the hot tub, and repeated the events leading up to the discovery of the body. “We were all at The Thicket looking for this little bird called a LeConte’s sparrow. It likes grass, and shouldn’t be here, but someone spotted one on Monday afternoon.”
“I’m with you so far.”
“I heard something hiss, then a lot of crackling in the bushes. More than one little bird could make.” A shiver shimmied along her spine. Had it been the killer she’d heard?
Garcia replied as though reading her thoughts. “He’s been dead for a while.”
Rachel drew a breath. “I decided to go find the others. I ran into Lark first, and she asked me to point out where I’d heard the hissing. We were pishing. —.”
“I know the
Signaling to one of his men, the sheriff leafed through a stack of papers the officer handed to him, then smiled. “Okay, folks. Looks like we have everything we need.”
“Does that mean we can go?” Forest asked.
“There’s just one more thing. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t talk about the case with anyone.” He glanced around, waiting for signs of cooperation, then pointed to a gangly deputy with a clipboard. “You all know Deputy Brill. He’s going to be handing out business cards with both my home and office numbers on them. If you remember anything, anything at all, call me.”
The group nodded, then stood in unison like boot camp recruits being dismissed for the first time. Several of them murmured good-byes, Lark tossed Rachel a wave, and Charles pecked Miriam’s cheek. Gertie stopped at the door and drew the sheriff aside.
“I wish I was a knot in the wall so I could hear what she’s telling him,” Rachel whispered to Miriam. She would lay odds it had something to do with Bursau’s quick checkout on Monday afternoon. Deputy Brill shot Rachel a dirty look, and gestured for her to move to a different chair.
Harry was almost out the door when the sheriff intercepted him. “I still have a few questions for you, if you don’t mind. In here.” Garcia gestured toward the kitchen. “And I’d appreciate it if you’d wait here in the living room, Mrs. Stanhope.”
A dejected-looking Harry followed the sheriff into the kitchen, and Rachel slumped into the seat Gertie had vacated. After a moment, Miriam rose.
“If you don’t mind, dear, I think I’ll go up to bed.” She looked exhausted, with dark circles under her eyes, her pale skin wrinkled with worry.
“That’s a good idea, Aunt Miriam. It looks like this may take a while.”
“You can wake me when you’re finished, if you like.”
“Let’s see how it goes. If you’re sleeping, we can talk in the morning.”
Miriam nodded, her eyes closed. Though middle-aged, tonight she looked old.
“Good night, dear.”
“Good night, Aunt Miriam.”
Two magazines and a cup of coffee later, Rachel looked up as Harry bolted from the kitchen. He flashed Rachel a thumbs-up, then scampered for the door.
Deputy Brill escorted Rachel to where Garcia was ensconced in the breakfast nook. A cozy cranny built into an oversized bay window, it consisted of a small table flanked by built-in benches. Green-and-white checked curtains draped the windows, and matching material covered the thick foam cushions that softened the seats. Rachel slid onto the unoccupied bench.
“So, we meet again.”
“Tell me, Mrs. Stanhope,” Garcia said without preamble, “exactly what happened out there tonight?”
She met his gaze squarely. “Call me Rachel. And how many times are you going to make me repeat the story? We’ve gone over and over this. Everything’s in my statement.”
“I’d like to hear it again, if you don’t mind.”
Obviously the sheriff was fishing for something. “Maybe it would be easier if you just tell me what you want to hear.”
Garcia smiled patiently, crossed his arms, and leaned back against the bench.
Rachel gave up on the idea of soaking her bones warm in the hot tub, and repeated the events leading up to the discovery of the body. “We were all at The Thicket looking for this little bird called a LeConte’s sparrow. It likes grass, and shouldn’t be here, but someone spotted one on Monday afternoon.”
“I’m with you so far.”
“I heard something hiss, then a lot of crackling in the bushes. More than one little bird could make.” A shiver shimmied along her spine. Had it been the killer she’d heard?
Garcia replied as though reading her thoughts. “He’s been dead for a while.”
Rachel drew a breath. “I decided to go find the others. I ran into Lark first, and she asked me to point out where I’d heard the hissing. We were pishing. —.”
“I know the
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