Neil McMahon - Dead Silver

"I know some things that weren't made public, but that's because I represented a client in a spinoff case-a nasty little situation with that Dead Silver Mine," he finally said. "I don't want to be coy, but there are confidentiality issues, sealed evidence, that kind of stuff. On the other hand, it's ancient history." He raised one eyebrow. "If you told me about this non-morbid curiosity of yours, I might have a better notion of how much leeway I've got."

The organ music was starting, the rustlings and murmurings of the crowd dying down.

"I'll give you a call," I said.

"You got it."

The minister was a spare, gentle-seeming man who nonetheless ran the show with authority and precision. Everything was solemn and tasteful. There were no lengthy testimonials, just a couple of brief statements about the positive aspects of the Professor's life and accomplishments. No mention was made of the tragedy that had ruined him. The ceremony lasted just an hour.

Renee was escorted out first, in the company of the people she'd been sitting with. She looked pale but poised, wearing a simple black dress that was very becoming.

But I was startled to see that instead of a strand of pearls or other tasteful jewelry, a large silver pendant hung around her neck.

I only got a glimpse, but I was just about certain that it was Astrid Callister's earring.

The reception was held at the Gold Baron Inn, a classy older place not far from the capitol grounds. The funeral guests filled the big convention room, and I didn't have a chance to talk to Renee right away; she was busy greeting one person after another. Understandably, they wanted to pay their respects to her father, and she was the natural recipient.

But I confirmed that her pendant was that earring. She must have looped a chain through it. I could practically see some people trying to ignore it, while others gave it sidelong glances.

Now that the solemnity was over, this was pretty much like any other big party. The buffet line was doing a brisk business; people chatted over food and wine, the buzz of conversation punctuated by the clinking of silverware. The governor, known for his peripatetic schedule, either hadn't come or was already gone. Senator Ulrich was working the room like the pro he was, all smiles and handshakes. If there'd been any babies present, he'd have been unstoppable.

I stayed on the fringes of the crowd, waiting until Renee broke free. Eventually, I noticed that she was waving her hand and looking at me, beckoning me over to her. She was talking to another well-wisher, a bland, smooth-faced, fiftyish guy named Travis Paulson. I recognized him from the occasional big commercial jobs I'd worked; he was some sort of planner for the state. When Renee introduced us, we agreed that we'd seen each other around. But while his handshake was hearty, I didn't think I was imagining that he wasn't happy about my joining them.

"Travis saw the mess outside my house," she said.

His gaze shifted nervously. "Just happened to be driving past."

"I told him you were getting rid of those awful rats." She gave my sleeve a comradely little tug.

"Yeah, they put in a lot of work," I said. "Wish I could find laborers like that."

Paulson responded with a quick, tight smile: nice try, pal, but not funny.

"If you get in over your head with it, give me a call," he said to Renee. "I know everybody in the business around here-all the best people."

"We could sure use somebody to haul that trash away," I said. "You got a recommendation?"

He glanced at me coldly. "I only deal high end." Then he swung back around to Renee and stepped between her and me like he was cutting in on a dance, enfolding her in a lingering hug.

"I'm there for you anytime, honey," he said. Without another glance at me, he took his leave.

She sighed. "Sorry about that. I really hardly know him."

"From what I've seen of him, he mostly deals with the high end of sitting on his own fat ass. Renee, what are you doing with that earring?"

"I found something else last night," she said, dropping her voice, but excited. "I couldn't get to sleep, thinking about it. That's why I look like shit."

"You look terrific. What did you find?"

"You're a liar, but sweet. There's a pile of wood chips a few feet away from the jewelry box-with gunpowder mixed in."

I blinked. "Gunpowder?"

"It's hard to see because of the rat gunk."

"There was black powder all over the floor," I said. "Your dad had it in containers and the rats chewed them up. It probably just sifted down through the gaps."

She shook her head emphatically. "This was deliberate. Go take a look."

"Where are you going with this?"

"Suppose the gunpowder caught fire. It would burn those wood chips, and that old dry building would go up like a torch. The firemen would find the jewelry box. That wouldn't burn because it's enamel, right?"

She watched me anxiously while I thought it over, but I ended up having to shrug. "I still don't get it."

"It's like I've been saying all along. Daddy didn't put the box there-he didn't even know about it. The real killer did. He set things up so he could start a fire that would seem accidental. Then when they found the jewelry box, it would make Daddy look a lot more guilty."

I rubbed the back of my neck, trying to get my mind around the implications.

"So how come he never lit the fire?" I said.

"Maybe he didn't need to. He was waiting to see if the police got suspicious of him. Then he'd use it to throw them off, turn them back on Daddy. But they never did."

I could only judge by the way it sounded, and that was that she was clutching at increasingly thinner straws.

But I said, "Okay, I'll go look. Now let's get back to why you're wearing the earring."

"What if he's still around-maybe here in this room?" she said heatedly. "He knows Daddy just died. He's going to be paying attention to what's going on. If he sees the earring he'll recognize it and it will shake him right down to his boots. For instance." She pointed unobtrusively toward Travis Paulson, the man we'd talked with a minute ago. "He stares at it every time he thinks I'm not looking."

"He's not the only one noticing it, Renee."

"He's really noticing. Watch."

She turned casually away from him. I followed her cue, but kept him in sight peripherally. His restless gaze did keep returning to Renee, and it did seem to be aimed below her face-although I guessed it was her breasts he was staring at.

"Is there anything more solid to connect him?" I said. "Like a motive, or being a suspect back then?"

"I don't know. I'm going to start looking into all that. But I'm not just talking about him. Whoever it was, they'll want to find out how I got the earring, how much I know, what I'm going to do. So maybe they'll come around prying."

First I was flat-out stunned, then angry.

"You're trying to lure the guy? Jesus, Renee, this isn't Nancy Drew-we're talking a double murder. Take that thing off and put it away."

Her eyes turned defiant. "I'll wear it whenever I want. And don't you dare bark orders at me."

I was starting to realize that sweet, shy Renee had a stubborn streak.

"Sorry," I said. "Will you please take it off?"

"Me too. And no."

Several people were hovering nearby, waiting with polite impatience for their chance at her. It was time to cut this short.

"I'll go check out that gunpowder," I said.

"You mentioned bringing this up to the sheriff-would you still do that?"

I hesitated, but nodded.

"I should be able to break free from here in a couple of hours," she said. "If you're going to be around."

"I'll be around."

I made my way through the crowd to the exit, pointedly keeping several people between me and Senator Ulrich's glassy smile and glad hand. My concern about Renee was getting both deeper and broader. Now it was starting to seem like she was seeing tigers lurking behind every tree.