Page 40 of The Dead Come to Stay
“You’re telling me the body was frozen?”
“No, the damage would have been everywhere. I’d say it was packed in ice—and not dry ice, either.Thatfreezes too hard and fast for crystal formation. Shame, actually, since dry ice is harder to get hold of and easier to track.”
MacAdams pushed his hands out in front of him, as if that would make it easier to catch the stray thought that kept buzzing around inside him.
“This doesn’t make sense. Someone killed him after midnight, then packed him in ice, then dumped him in a ditch before 3:00a.m.? Why bother? It wouldn’t be long enough to disguise the time of death, would it?”
“Not really,” Struthers agreed. “Rigor mortis sets in a few hours after death and lasts at least twenty-four.”
MacAdams made a four-cornered circuit of the lab. It clarified nothing. The midnight-to-three window remained.
“Is there anything else to determine exact time of death?”
“Stomach contents.”
“Fine.” MacAdams tapped his fingers against the steel table. “See what you can do to narrow this down.”
“Will do,” Struthers said, peeling his gloves off and making advances on his sandwich.
MacAdams left the long hall feeling far less buoyant than he had on arrival. Shoving a bunch of ice bags on a corpse (in a rainstorm), maybe dealing a blow with glass sculpture; it made no real sense.
Chapter 14
Evans had been placed in the interview room—the only proper one, really. Arianna awaited them in the sometimes-storage cupboard.
“You’re going to take Evans,” MacAdams explained.
“Because?” Green asked testily.
“You and Arianna have history, and—” he held up his hand to forestall remonstrance “—andEvans and I have history. It doesn’t matter what kind or why, but it’s better if neither is on their guard.” He peered through the window at Evans; he hadn’t risen from his chair, but managed to be in constant motion anyway. MacAdams had seen long distance runners burn fewer calories. “Lesson their guard.”
Green wasn’t exactly mollified, but she uncrossed her arms and smoothed the lapels of her blazer.
“So I should be nice,” she said.
MacAdams handed her two cups of tea to carry in with her. “Be your usual charming self,” he said. Then he returned to the kettle for two more. Perhaps milk and sugar would placate Ms. Templeton, who had been far less nervous but also more recalcitrant about coming to the station.
She sat very straight in her chair, ponytail pulled back tight at the temples. It had looked professional in situ; without her uniform—and with her present expression—it just looked severe.
“I’m sorry to keep you waiting,” he said, passing her a cup of tea. “Here you go. You were kind enough to offer me some when we came to the Abington Arms.”
Arianna had seemed about to decline, but he’d scored a point by recalling her own charity.
“Thank you, yes.”
“I know this wasn’t your plan for a day off,” he said (they’d found her at home, in the midst of doing laundry). “But it will be very helpful for our inquiries.”
She took a sip of tea and looked about the small, spare room. “I’ve never been inside a police station.”
“It doesn’t really improve on further acquaintance,” MacAdams admitted. “I just need to clarify some details.”
“Sheila thinks I lied. I didn’t. I told you then—I’m telling you now—I never heard of Ronan Foley until he rang on Friday. You can tell herthat.”
MacAdams patted himself on the back for not allowing Green to run this particular interview.
“We don’t think you lied—not intentionally.” MacAdams laid the hotel registration book on the table in front of her. “You said Foley asked if there were reservations in his name.”
“Yes. And there weren’t any.”
