that I told you everything that I saw when I was out on the stairs—”
He stopped. “Why were you out on the stairs?”
“I told you. I was looking for Dr. Tomberg.”
“Actually, I meant last night.”
“Like I told Officer Walton. I was taking a walk. I needed some air.”
He flipped through a notebook. “So you did. And earlier today? You seemed interested in what was going on. You seemed really curious about the deceased.”
“Well, yeah.” Then it occurred to me that my interest might not be as self-explanatory as it seemed to me. The tone of his voice was deceptively neutral. “You’re right. I was curious. It’s just…it’s just…”
I realized that I was about to say the words out loud for the first time, and I was a little reluctant, as if saying them would seal my fate forever. “I’m thinking that maybe…I’m going to look into forensics, maybe forensic anthropology. I mean, I’m an archaeologist now, and I’ve become…I’ve seen…” I took a deep breath. “I’ve been considering getting training so I could work with the state police crime lab, or coroner, or something like that. Stuart Feldman—he’s with the Massachusetts State Police Crime Lab? He’s been trying to get me to look into it.”
Detective Church nodded slowly, like this seemed logical to him. “Lot of people here are archaeologists. They don’t seem like they are all rushing down the stairs to see a corpse. A corpse that looks like it died by accident.”
If was an accident, then why the continued police presence here? Why is everyone rushing around like it wasn’t an accident? I was at least smart enough to keep all this to myself. “Like I said, I knew the deceased. So I had a couple of reasons.”
“Plenty of people here knew him, from what I can see. How did you?”
“I knew him through my grandfather. He used to come visit our sites, years ago.”
“Seen him much since then?” Again came the ready smile, the one that made me want to answer him just as smartly as I could. I realized he had a talent for getting people to talk.
“No, not much. Occasionally, at professional things like this.”
“So he wasn’t really an old friend of the family?”
“Well, he was, but—”
“A lot of folks saw the two of you alone, yesterday. Arguing, it looked like.”
“What? They couldn’t have—” The bus had been up by the road, and you couldn’t really see down to the site so well—could you? Well, yes, you could, now that the house was gone.
Church smiled encouragingly. “Out on the field trip? The tour of the site?”
“Oh…butweweren’t…arguing. He was just…telling me some things about Oscar. Oscar was my grandfather.”
“People said you looked flustered. Was that ‘friendly’?”
“I, well, not—” I could feel myself getting confused, my thoughts tripping over themselves before they could make it to my tongue.
Suddenly Duncan was there. “She knew him about as well as I did, Mark. Which is to say, a little professionally, a little socially.”
If I thought Church was smiling before, when he saw Duncan his face lit up with genuine pleasure. “Mr. Thayer! Excellent to see you.”
Church shook hands with Duncan, the kind with claps on the back that speaks of more than passing acquaintance.
“Mr. Church. You’re looking very fit.”
This banter sounded like it dated back a long ways. I was so taken aback that Duncan had inserted himself into the situation, at once sticking up for me and doing the old-boy glad-hand stuff, that I was momentarily speechless. Rage, confusion, and envy—how come a jerk like Duncan got to be at ease, got to slide through this kind of situation as if he’d been born to it? Of course he had been born to it: We were in his territory, it was no surprise that he should know people—male authority figures—and be at home with them. He was at home. I bit my tongue and waited for things to play out before I added anything. Like kerosene to a fire.
“And you know Miss—er…” he flipped through his notebook. Somehow I knew he didn’t need to.
“I’ve known Dr. Emma Fielding for years,” Duncan said. “Since college. Best kind of people.”
I hated that he was sticking up for me. I couldn’t stand that he used my title. I didn’t want to be beholden to him for any reason, and I didn’t want him bruiting about our past—why couldn’t he let it lie decently buried? I hated that he was helping me. And I knew he knew it.
“Well, we’re just asking her