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“Whoa, whoa, whoa, easy there.”
Constance looks at me blankly. “Do you think I’m a horse, McEvoy?”
I splutter, “A horse–I–No! Just?—”
“Then take it easy on the ‘whoas,’” she says.
“Duly noted. I just meant that I thought I’d come to you with my thoughts and findings and you could be a sounding board for them. I don’t need you to editorialize on what you think may or may not be relevant to the case.”
Constance doesn’t shut her notebook, but sits back in her seat. “All right, then what do you have for me?”
My mouth gets hot. “Um, well, you know a bit about the Fredericksons, right?”
“Well, enough. And after you mentioned the demolition permit, I took it upon myself to check on what other permits they had approved. Did you know they’re trying to put in a sub-basement that would require taking out the garden in order to build it out? Shameful, if you ask me.”
“Hm. That’s interesting.”
“You’re telling me you knew they submitted requests for permits and you didn’t even check what they were?”
I clasp my hands between my knees. “To be completely honest, Chaplin, I was a bit more focused on a different suspect.”
Her nostrils flare.
“Who is no longer a suspect!” I defend, palms up facing her. “Promise. Cross my heart and hope to die.”
Kate swoops up to the table, just in the nick of time to save this conversation from pure awkwardness. “One matcha for you, Sheriff McEvoy.”
“Oh, thank you, Kate,” I say, taking the cup from her. The liquid inside is green as grass. “That’sgreen.”
She nods, her grin unaffected. “Yes, I import the matcha directly.”
“That’s just great.” I’m not sure I want this greener-than-green drink, so I politely put it down on the table.
“Try it, McEvoy. I’m sure Kate wants your feedback,” Constance says. For the first time, she smiles at me. Except it’s not a pure smile. She’sdaringme with it.
I glance at Kate. She’s smiling eagerly. I’m really going to have to do this, huh?
Fine.
I take the mug of matcha and bring it to my lips, slow and steady so that I get only the tiniest bit of liquid. “Mm,” I hum. Not bad. Not great. Still would prefer my precious bean water, but… it’s a little sweet, a little earthy. “I like that. You’re a great bar-tea-sta, Kate. Get it? Because you make?—”
Constance groans while Kate laughs.
“Can we please get back to the task at hand?” Constance asks. “What was your conversation with Harvey like?”
I recall the conversation I had with the shaking-in-his-boots handyman. “Not very revealing, honestly. I got his witness statement and everything, but the poor guy was so out of sorts I don’t think it offered much information.”
Kate leans on the back of Constance’s chair. “That’s Harvey for you. He’s as jumpy as they come.”
“Yes, but when he’s around people he trusts, he’s fine,” Constance says. “I’m sure I could get more information out of him if you like, Rory. He’s done work at the museum before.”
I’ve bitten off more than I can chew. I enlisted Constance to offer me her expertise; I didn’t mean to give her the impression I actually want her toinvestigate.
“Or what about the Fredericksons’ neighbors?” Constance says, pointing her pen at me. “If they know about the permits, is it possible that they had motivation to somehow sabotage the project to prevent the grueling years of construction?”
Kate’s lips twist to the side. “That implies that the skeleton was placed there as sabotage rather than an actual murder being committed.”
“The grave was much too shallow for it to have suddenly been unearthed,” Constance replies.
