Page 122 of Dead Beat

Turner’s disdain was palpable. “A young woman is dead. What do you suppose would be fair?”

“None of us had anything to do with a girl getting hurt,” Montrose said.

“How can you possibly know that? I haven’t even told you her name.”

“Because no one here is that kind of person!”

“And who is?”

“Who is what?” Montrose sputtered.

“That kind of person.”

Now Montrose did stand and he turned his anger on Darlington. “What is all of this? Why are we being treated like criminals?”

Turner laughed. “I think you’re confused about how we treat criminals.”

Darlington spread his hands in a peacemaking gesture. “He just wants to know where everyone was, to see if anyone had contact with the victim. He’s trying to establish a timeline. He’s not accusing anyone of anything.”

“It feels like he is,” someone complained.

Montrose folded his arms. “Why would you think we’re involved in the death of some random girl? If you want us providing … alibis or whatever, we deserve to know what’s going on.”

“That seems fair,” Darlington said diplomatically.

Turner looked around the room. “I’d hate to be unfair. There were herbs in her stomach. Parsley. Geranium root.”

“That’s all?” Montrose said, a small smile forming on his lips.

“Those are used in prognostications, aren’t they?” Turner asked.

“Yeah, but did she have a big scar on her belly? Darlington could have told you a victima would.”

“That’s true,” Darlington said.

Montrose grinned. “See?”

“Although…” Darlington mused, “there are magical ways to make a wound disappear. Right, Montrose?”

The smile vanished.

“I’m not doing this,” Janey said, setting the blank card in front of her.

“Me neither,” Wally agreed.

One by one they pushed away their cards and set their pens down, some with defiance, others with trepidation. But it didn’t matter. In the quiet he could hear the faint patter of paws in the hall. His hound had returned.

“What an unexpected development,” Turner said dryly. He stretched and rose. “Thanks for your time. It’s been illuminating.”

“We’re going to speak to the alumni about this,” Montrose said as he followed them down the hall.

Darlington lowered the lead and let the hound slide its head into the loop. “Do you think that’s wise?”

Montrose threw open the kitchen door. “This was humiliating and totally uncalled for and I think you both know that.”

Turner strolled into the afternoon sunshine. “You should call them right now. You can put me on the line. If they know what you’re up to, they’re not going to be happy your bumbling got Lethe and the NHPD sniffing around. And if they don’t know…”

Darlington read the cue. “Well, if they don’t know, you’re in a hole so deep, you’re never climbing out.”