"Ayuh," said Doreen. "I haven't had a chance to tell Meg. But Mrs. Hallenbeck knows."
"That one!"
"It was an accident." Quill briefly recapped her conversation with John, leaving out the personal details, but including the sudden invasion of Mrs. Hallenbeck's and her intention to investigate.
"Sheriff is after 'em," said Doreen. "We don't have much time for this here investigating."
"No, that's one of the reasons why I was furious about the evangelist. All those management courses I take, Doreen, I'm supposed to put you on probation for stuff like this. And here I am trusting you with something that's vitally important. It's John's life we're talking about here. I mean, they don't execute people anymore in this state - but another prison sentence? We have to do something."
"Even if he had killed that Mavis..." Doreen began darkly.
"Well, he didn't," said Quill, "and what we have to do is look for that bolt. The one from Harland Peterson's tractor. There's no way it could have fallen into the river, Doreen - and I know Myles and his men didn't pick it up at the scene. So the killer's got it. Motives for Baumer are piling up. I want you to pay particular attention to his room when you look."
"You got it. I'll search the whole dang Inn."
"If you find it, be sure not to pick it up with your bare hands," warned Quill. "There may be fingerprints. Use your work gloves and put it into a Baggie or something. And, Doreen?"
"Yes'm."
"There's really no need to mention this to the sheriff, or Deputy Davey, or any of the patrol guys."
"You don't want them to find out? I thought we were helpin' them."
"Well, we are; it's just that some people might think it was interfering with an official investigation or something." A ware that her management training courses were stem in the admonition to at all times maintain an executive demeanor and that she was, perhaps, being a bit tentative where direct and aggressive behaviors were what led to Maintaining Control of Employees, Quill folded her hands on her desk and said briskly, "Then you'll report back to me the instant you discover something essential. It isn't worth it to waste time coming to me with nonessential information, like Keith Baumer's swiped towels, or something. Come to me when you discover facts that will help us get this investigation over."
"Like the instant I do?" asked Doreen, her eyes on the window behind Quill's desk.
Quill, nettled by the inattention to her best executive style, snapped, "Immediately."
"Like, 'essential' is when the sheriff gets back?"
"Myles?" Quill shook her head. "Now, that's what I mean by essential versus nonessential, Doreen. Myles is a person who's nonessential to our investigation. The discovery of the bolt that clears John, that's essential to the investigation."
"Got it," said Doreen.
Quill began to recover her increasingly elusive sense of being in charge. She'd tackle Tom Peterson first; the prayer breakfast would be breaking up in a few minutes, and she could ask him to stay behind for an extra cup of coffee. Then the Hemlock Diner and Marge and Betty Hall. Then on to the Marriott, where Baumer had presumably settled after his expressed displeasure with the comforts offered by the Inn, and finally, Baumer himself.
She, John, and Doreen would have the case wrapped up and solved in no time.
On the way back to the prayer breakfast, Quill ventured a whistle. It stopped in mid-trill at the sight of a familiar broad back in trooper gray at the front desk. So that's who Doreen had seen out the window.
"Myles?"
He turned, frowning. "Sarah."
"Sarah" was not good. The last time Myles had called her Sarah was early on in their relationship when he'd been contacted by the SoHo precinct station about a misunderstanding over a large number of parking tickets she'd forgotten to pay when she left Manhattan to move to Hemlock Falls. She had lent her car for a few weeks to a fellow artist who was down on his uppers, and between explaining that no, they weren't involved any longer and yes, it was pretty typical of Simon to pull stuff like that, it took a few days before she went back to being Quill.
"Your note said you wouldn't be back until tomorrow."
"I got lucky. Forensics owed me a favor or two, and the autopsy on Mavis was done early this morning. I was on my way back to the station when Davey radioed the complaint to me. What's going on, Quill?"
"Complaint?" Quill craned her neck around Myles's height and pulled a face at Dina, who rolled her eyes expressively.
Myles flipped his notepad open-just for effect, since she'd never known him to forget a thing. "Christian terrorism?"
"That Baumer! Dina! I thought he checked out."
"Nope. Sorry, Quill. He made a lot of phone calls, though." Quill groaned.
"What's been going on?"
Quill explained, downplaying the chest-pounding to a few brotherly taps.
"I'm going to see him. I've got a couple of questions for him myself. I'll be a half-hour or so. Will you be here? I want to talk to you."
"I want to talk to you, too," Quill said glibly, "but I have a few things to do today in the village. Can we meet for an early dinner?"
"Let me rephrase my request," said Myles cordially. "I will see you here in half an hour. Consider it a date, Sarah. The official kind."
"Oh." Quill pulled her lower lip. "Does this mean you won't tell me the results of the autopsy on Mavis?"
"Sure, I'll tell you the results of the autopsy on Mavis. The media already has the results of the autopsy on Mavis because some damn fool at the morgue leaked the results. So you can hear it from me, or you can wait for the six o'clock news. Take your pick."
"I'd rather hear even the weather report from you than some boring old reporter," said Quill earnestly, "or even the price of hogs, or arrivals and departures at La Guardia. The sound of your voice alone sends..."
"You do want to drive me to an early grave," said Myles. Quill wondered if the noise he was making really came from grinding his teeth, as she thought it might. "Mavis had ingested a large amount of alcohol an hour or two before her death. But the amount of alcohol wasn't sufficient to cause a blackout; she also took ten milligrams of Valium about eight o'clock that morning. The Valium and the alcohol weren't sufficient to cause unconsciousness, either."
Quill wondered for a wild moment if the Scotch Bonnet pepper had made her pass out. "She had either taken - or someone had given her - five grains of Seconal, probably in a drink twenty minutes or so before she went on as Clarissa Martin. There was so much junk in her system, it's hard for me to believe that she didn't drown in the ducking pool.
"Seconal," said Myles, "means we can prove premeditation." He looked at her grimly. "You stay here. I'll be back after I talk to Baumer."
Baumer had been drinking with Mavis just before she went on. Quill caught her breath. "Why don't I come up with you?" said Quill. "We can give him the old one-two."
"No."