talk to Darcy,” Casey said, writing something in her notebook.
“Darcy?” asked Henry. “You mean the chauffeur?”
“He found the body this morning. Walking the dogs.”
“Yes, of course.”
“We won’t know until after we get the medical examiner’s report how long the pilot was in the pond.”
“Several hours, I suppose?”
“I don’t know, sir.”
Victoria gazed out of the window down the grassy slope to the pond, scarcely registering Casey’s interrogation of Henry. Victoria thought of the snapping turtles that lived in the pond. One, at least, was two feet long. And Henry and Delilah were covering up something.
CHAPTER 12
Mrs. Danvers was about to take her salad out of the Town Hall refrigerator when the glass in the door rattled, announcing that someone had entered. She looked up.
“Well!” She straightened up when she saw who it was and looked significantly at the clock between the tall windows. “Nice of you to come to work today, Mr. Ashpine.” She peered at the assessors’ clerk, prepared to tell him exactly what she thought of his late hours. And then she looked again. “What happened to you?”
Oliver was pale. His usually sleek hair was tousled. Behind his thick glasses, his magnified eyes were watery. His natty clothes were awry.
“What’s the matter with you?” Mrs. Danvers repeated.
Oliver ignored her and headed toward the boxes that held staff mail.
“Are you deaf?” Mrs. Danvers turned to face him. “We’ve already gone through your mail. Someone has to answer the complaints. I certainly can’t.”
Oliver turned away from the mailboxes and headed toward the stairs that led up to his office.
“If you’re sick, the least you could have done was call.” When he still didn’t answer she added, “I don’t suppose you ever heard of a telephone.”
Without a word, Oliver stumped up the stairs.
Mrs. Danvers looked at the clock again, lifted the phone receiver to call one of the selectmen, changed her mind and put the receiver down, picked it up again to call one of the assessors, decided against that, and shoved her chair away from her desk.
If Oliver was sick, and he certainly looked sick, why did he
bother to come in at all? He wasn’t going to accomplish anything, the way he looked. Giving everyone his germs. If he wanted sympathy, he certainly wasn’t going to get it from her.
Mrs. Danvers removed her salad from the refrigerator, doused it with more dressing than she had intended, and took it back to her desk, where she chewed steadily, grinding the lettuce and celery and carrots into smaller and smaller indigestible particles.
While Mrs. Danvers was working on her salad, Ocypete and Selena were seated on the porch of the Black Dog Tavern overlooking the harbor. Ocypete checked her watch. “This is the second time she’s been late. Last time …” she didn’t finish.
“Last time, Lucy was murdered,” Selena said. “Shall we go ahead and order?”
“We’d better. I have a doctor’s appointment this afternoon at two.”
“I hope it’s not serious? One worries so …”
“Just a tummy ache,” said Ocypete. “Nothing to be concerned about.”
“Speaking of doctors, I hope Ellen is all right. Last time it was an emergency medical appointment off Island.”
“Dental,” Ocypete corrected. “Broke her upper plate.”
“I’ll have the green salad, darlin’,” Selena said to the waitress who’d appeared with two glasses of water. “With just a bit of house dressing. On the side, please?”
“Hamburger,” said Ocypete. “Rare. Not pink, red.”
“Anything to drink?” asked the waitress.
“Iced tea for me,” said Ocypete.
“I’ll have the same.”
They watched the Islander round the jetty and pull into its slip. The waitress brought their orders. Cars and trucks from the ferry drove past. Heavy clouds moved in from the northeast. Ocypete checked her watch. They nattered on about weather, gardens, and summer