Dead and Gone - By Charlaine Harris Page 0,25

which one’s the scent. And look, they’re all touching her. Some of ’em are wearing rubber gloves, but those have an odor, you know. See, there’s Mitch Norris helping take her down, and he’s one of us. So how will Calvin know?”

“Besides, it might be one of them,” I said, nodding toward the group gathered around the dead woman. Tanya looked at me sharply.

“You mean law enforcement might be in on it?” she said. “Do you know something?”

“No,” I said, sorry I’d opened my big mouth. “It’s just . . . we don’t know anything for sure. I guess I was thinking about Dove Beck.”

“He’s the one she was in bed with that day?”

I nodded. “That big guy, there—the black guy in the suit? That’s his cousin Alcee.”

“Think he might have had something to do with it?”

“Not really,” I said. “I was just . . . speculating.”

“I’ll bet Calvin’s thought of that, too,” she said. “Calvin’s very sharp.”

I nodded. There was nothing flashy about Calvin, and he hadn’t managed to go to college (I hadn’t either), but there was nothing wrong with his brain.

Bud beckoned to Calvin then, and he got out of his truck and went over to the body, which had been laid on a gurney spread with an open body bag. Calvin approached the body carefully, his hands behind his back so he wouldn’t touch Crystal.

We all watched, some with loathing and distaste, some with indifference or interest, until he’d finished.

He straightened, turned, and walked back in the direction of his truck. Tanya got out of my car to meet him. She put her arms around him and looked up at him. He shook his head. I’d lowered my window so I could hear. “I couldn’t make out much on the rest of her,” he said. “Too many other smells. She just smelled like a dead panther.”

“Let’s go home, Calvin,” Tanya said.

“Okay.” They each raised a hand to me to let me know they were leaving, and then I was by myself in the front parking lot, still waiting. Bud asked me to open the employee entrance to the bar. I handed him the keys. He returned after a few minutes to tell me that the door had been securely locked and that there was no sign anyone had been inside the bar since it had closed. He handed the keys to me.

“So we can open up?” I asked. A few police vehicles had left, the body was gone, and it seemed to me that the whole process was winding down. I was willing to wait there if I could get into the building soon.

But after Bud told me it might be two or three more hours, I decided I’d go home. I’d spoken to every employee I could reach, and any customers could clearly see from the tape put across the parking lot that the bar was closed. I was wasting my time. My FBI agents, who’d spent hours with their cell phones clamped to their ears, seemed now to be more concerned about this crime than about me, which was great. Maybe they’d forget all about me.

Since no one seemed to be watching me or to care what I was doing, I started my car up and left. I didn’t have the heart to run any errands. I went straight back to the house.

Amelia had long ago left for work at the insurance agency, but Octavia was home. She had set up the ironing board in her room. She was pressing the hem on a pair of pants she’d just shortened, and she had a pile of her blouses ready to iron. I guess there wasn’t any magic spell to get the wrinkles out. I offered to drive her into town, but she said her trip with Amelia the day before had taken care of all her needs. She invited me to sit on the wooden chair by the bed while she worked. “Ironing goes faster when you have someone to talk to,” she said, and she sounded so lonely I felt guilty.

I told her about the morning I’d had, about the circumstances of Crystal’s death. Octavia had seen some bad stuff in her time, so she didn’t freak out. She made the appropriate answers and expressed the shock almost anyone would feel, but she hadn’t really known Crystal. I could tell there was something on her mind.

Octavia put down the iron and moved to face me directly. “Sookie,” she said, “I need to get

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