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“It’s a nice banner. Deserves to be up.”
“I can do it myself,” I say. Because it’s true.
Rory gives me a slow nod. “All right. That’s fair.”
I hear my dad’s words in the back of my head, words he hasn’t said in many years, but still echo in his youthful and jolly voice from time to time.Catch more flies with honey than vinegar, Con. “Thank you, though. That’s nice of you to offer.”
Rory smiles at me. I’d like to smile back, but don’t know how. Smiling makes my mouth feel strange, puts a weird taste on my mouth. Best leave the smiling out of it.
Another throat clearing. “Listen, Constance, um, I just have a few questions for you regarding the remains discovered yesterday.”
I raise my eyebrows. All right, this should be interesting. Finally, someone recognizing my expertise. With a deep breath, I lift my chin, put on my most serene expression. “I’d be happy to answer your questions. Would you like to go back to my office?”
“Uh, we can just talk here. That will be fine,” Rory says.
His expression… it’s dower all of a sudden. Dark and edgy, like a cop would be. Not at all the friendly face of my rescuer. My fists bunch up again. “Is something the matter?”
Rory crosses his arms over his chest. “You know, I was speaking with the Fredericksons yesterday after we parted ways and… something they said, I just haven’t been able to get it out of my head.”
“And what might that be?” I reply, my forehead tensing in confusion. I don’t know the Fredericksons. Not well. They stopped into the museum once and made a formidable donation. Other than that, they’re the overlords in a Victorian mansion on the hill.
“Are you familiar with Form 490?”
“Form 490?”
“It’s a building permit. Or I guess I should say the exact opposite. It’s a permit Wabash County requires in order for a resident to demolish a building.”
My heart sinks into my stomach. I can already feel where this is going. “They’re going to demolish the Wilhelm House?”
“It’s public record, there’s nothing about this that’s confidential,” Rory goes on.
He says it as if we’re talking about the weather. About somethinginsignificant. Inside, I’m crumbling. The Wilhelm House is a piece of our history. It has survived despite a lack of restoration for years. The turrets, the steep Mansard roof, even the interior has some incredible relics that have been passed down through the years.
That is, unless the Fredericksons already destroyed those too.
People seem so concerned about preserving the histories of big cities, of battle grounds, of ruins. What about the small towns? What aboutourlives?
There aren’t many opportunities for me to exercise my muscles as a historian and archaeologist out here. How could the Fredericksons take that away from me with their Midas touch?
When I don’t reply, Rory goes on. “That means that you would easily be able to request that info.”
There’s an accusatory tone in the wordyouI don’t like. Not at all. “You don’t mean to imply…”
“I’m just asking if you had anything to do with it, Constance.”
It’s not the most appropriate first response, but I laugh. Humorless and dry, yet inescapable. “You think I had something to do with the remains on their property?”
“The bones belong to the museum. You said it yourself, you’re the only one with access. Without cameras or security records to provide proof of traffic in and out of the building?—”
“You think I would endanger my career by pulling some stunt like that?” I say.
Rory seems unfazed.
“We might not have cameras or records of who has been in and out of the building, but certainly the Fredericksons?—”
“They don’t have eyes outside the property line. From what I understand they’re working on that.”
I’m cornered. For no good reason other than gut instinct. “I can’t believe you would question my integrity like this.”
