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Sheriff Rhonda White was not happy.
Of course, she had at least one dead body to deal with – in a church, no less – and it seemed that there were about four things she wanted to be doing at that moment, and no way for her to do them all at the same time.
Then I heard the door behind me open wider and I smelled an aftershave I'd smelled before.
The sheriff looked up. "Dr. Wright," she said.
The coroner stepped into the room, and looked around. There was no place to sit. He gestured at me not to rise, but I hadn't given any indication that I was going to surrender my chair.
After all, he was on duty and I wasn't.
"The body in the pew downstairs is also dead," he said. "Broken neck, apparently, but he's been stabbed as well. I won't know which he died from, if either, until I've done the autopsy."
The sheriff nodded.
Dr. Wright turned to me. "Is your boss involved with this?"
I shrugged, surprising both of us by standing to shake his hand. "To the best of my knowledge, no."
His handshake was firm.
"Well, that's something," he said with a chuckle as I sat down again. He turned back to the sheriff. "Unless you plan to produce any more bodies tonight," he said, "I think I'll take my leave."
She nodded and gestured, dismissing him. As he left, she turned to me. "So, what have you got for me, O'Connor?"
"Quite a bit, and also, as far as I can tell, nothing."
She made a face that I'd seen before. "That's not helpful."
"I know." I leaned back in my chair. "Miss Sleet is not investigating this case, so I'm willing to open the bag. But there isn't a lot in the bag."
"You and the boss lady went to the Deacon house this morning. Who did you talk to?"
I couldn't suppress a smile. "I'm not actually sure." Sensing her impatience – which would have been difficult to miss – I continued, giving her a brief summary of what Miss Deacon had said that morning. Then I pointed at the photographs on one shelf of the priest's bookcase. "Have you looked at those?"
"Family photos. I didn't study them."
"I see two things which seem interesting. Several of the photos show two teenage girls – apparently sisters – at different ages. Some photos show just the girls, others show them with Dr. Deacon, their uncle."
I couldn't resist holding up a forefinger as she crossed the room to look at the photographs. "None of the photos include Mr. Deacon, the girls' father." A second finger. "The brunette girl we spoke to at the house said she was the younger sister, Jennifer, but these photographs, obviously taken over quite a few years, suggest that the brunette girl, the one who we spoke to, is the older sister, Julie, and the blonde girl, with the curly hair, is her younger sister.
"Also, the girl we spoke to – call her Miss Deacon – was wearing a Claremont College T-shirt, which she passed off as her sister's."
Rhonda frowned. "I'm still wondering why you were there in the first place, if Miss Sleet isn't investigating the case."
"I have no idea. After we left the Deacon house, she dispatched me to the office of the Crier, to do research on the history of the Deacon family, and I haven't seen her since. Or heard from her. I've had no communication with her, or from her."
She held up a hand. "I get the idea." She sat down again and tapped a finger on her notebook, looking at the photographs, and then at the wall.
She looked up. "Here's one for you. Nobody called the Deacon house – Fred Deacon's house – on Saturday night. I wanted to find out who made the call about the kidnapping, of course, and there were no incoming calls to that number at all."
I had been wondering about that, but I didn't say so.
