Sharyn McCrumb - Sick Of Shadows

“And the deputy went along with it?”

“A lot easier than Rountree would’ve,” said Milo.

“Turns out Rountree had the painting business figured out, and he was going to wait until he’d dragged the lake for the evidence to make an arrest. Of course, he didn’t know that he had Ludwig of Bavaria to contend with, so it was a good thing we staked out the lake.”

“You could have stopped by the house first.”

“I thought I’d better guard the lake. And besides, that explanation might have been too much for Rountree. I figured him for a backwoods country sheriff, and I thought he might have locked me up!”

“Did you really think you could talk Alban out of a murder by posing as Richard Wagner?”

Milo blushed. “Not exactly. But I did have Bill and the deputy in the bushes in case there was trouble. I thought we could listen long enough to get the evidence we needed, and then distract him with the Wagner impersonation so that Bill and Melkerson could tackle him.”

“It would’ve worked, too, if you all hadn’t come charging in. It was the Mailgram, I guess. But you were beginning to sound too interested in Alban, so I had to take the chance and warn you, before you started taking strolls by the lake.”

Elizabeth shook her head. “You’re both crazy.”

“Though this be madness, yet there’s method in it,” said Geoffrey from the doorway.

Bill stiffened in his chair, without turning around. “Hello, Geoffrey,” he said evenly.

“ ‘Hail fellow, well-met, All dirty and wet!’-Swift. But I see you’ve dried out now. Are you staying for further melodrama? I’m afraid there may be reporters on the way.”

Bill got up slowly and stared into Geoffrey’s mocking face. Finally he said: “ ‘Go hang yourselves all. You are idle shallow things. I am not of your element.’- Twelfth Night.”

Geoffrey bowed. “I am silenced.”