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Before he can respond, I drop the desk phone into the receiver, then I answer my cell and place Archer on speaker.
“It’s Minka. What happened with Henry?”
“He—” He stops. “What makes you think something happened?”
“Because Mayor Lawrence just called and told me Judge Mistleforth called him. Word gets around, Archer. What the hell happened?”
“Jesus.” The sound of his stubble scratches along our call. “How does it feel having a direct line to Daddy Mayor?”
“What?”
“I doubt Judge Mistleforth’s wife knows about this shit. And while we’re at it, I doubt Lawrence’s wife knows either. But here, fancy pants Chief Mayet gets to confer with the mayor before we, the investigating friggin’ detectives, get an answer on the court order we requested. You have a direct line with the mayor, Minka. You may as well start calling him Daddy already.”
My nose wrinkles. “Daddy, like the paternal figure, ordaddy, like—”
Aubree cackles on my desk beside my elbow. “I already said it. Mayor Lawrence is a hottie. His daughter’s husband is a hottie. The whole freakin’ family are so smokin’, I’d call any one of ‘em Daddy, including his daughters.”
I glance up and scowl at my colleague. “You’re gross.” Then to Archer, “Your order was already granted. Lawrence has it. And the reason he was calling me was because he wants in on the exhumation.”
“Does Daddy Mayor have a secret archaeological or forensics degree he never told us about?” Archer grumbles. “Does he want a shovel?”
“He’s not going to touch,” I laugh. “He wants to watch. Morbid curiosity, he said.”
“So you agreed?” Archer’s tone grows impatient. “Just like that, you invite politicians into my case?”
“Actually,” I counter dryly, “I seem to recall that this is Detective Fletcher’s case, seeing as howyou’reon medical leave right now. And no,” I add with a smile, “not just like that. In exchange for a seat at the table, I negotiated lab equipment that’ll keep Doctor Raquel from beating me up.”
“She could probably do it,” Aubree decides thoughtfully. “She’s not overly large, but she’s scrappy, and her fondness for color implies she doesn’t mind making a scene.”
“Awesome.” I roll my eyes and bring my attention back to Archer. “You still haven’t told me what happened with Henry. Why’d you decide not to talk to him and the sister and the friend?” Cranky now, I add, “you had a plan, Archer—a plan that would have you sitting at your desk most of the damn day. But now you’ve skipped straight to the end.”
“Henry said no.” Quieter now, he pauses long enough to let me hear the soft whir of traffic at his back. The hum of Copeland City around him. “The sister gave us permission to dig, but seeing as Henry was Holly’s husband and next of kin, he gets to make a fuss and stand in her way. He said no. Respectfully and with full knowledge that this makes him look guilty, he doesn’t want to disturb Holly’s body.”
“He said that?” I sit back in my chair and think. “He said he doesn’t want to disturb her?”
“He also mentioned that although Lacey Trainor says she wants this now, he thinks it’ll be traumatic for everyone in the long run. He claims to be trying to save everyone from themselves—including his current wife, children, and grandchildren.”
“His wife?” Aubree mumbles. “What’s she got to do with this? Or is it more of a ‘she’ll be jealous and cranky he’s focusing on Holly instead of her’ type thing?”
“No, the, uh…” He stops for a moment, loading our conversation with uncomfortable silence. “The current wife, it turns out, is Hillary DuPree.”
“The best friend?” I burst out. “The new wife is the late wife’s friend?”
“Well…” He chuckles. “If bynewwife, you mean wife of thirty-five years, mother of his children, and grandmother of his grandchildren, then sure. He married Holly’s bestie. And before you ask,” he rushes out, “Hillary has an alibi on the night of Holly’s death. In fact, she was at Holly’s diner for dinner earlier that night, then she was home.”
“Alone?”
Again, he clears his throat. “With another man. And yes, that conversation was awkward as hell.”
“Dealing with grandma’s sex life typically is,” Aubree teases.
“It all looks clean on their end,” he concludes. “Either way, Henry said no to bringing Holly up, so… we needed Judge Mistleforth.”
“Ya know, it could’ve been Grannie,” Aubree murmurs, deep in thought. “Maybe she wants her best friend’s man. Cooks up a plot to make Holly look mentally unstable, gets her on meds, pushes her under a truck. Grandmas have done worse.”
“Would you do the same to me to get to Archer?”
Her eyes glitter with menace. “Maybe I’ve already begun.”
