Fear of Frying

“She’d already embarrassed herself in front of me, and I think she was angry with everyone else about it. I could be wrong, of course, but I’ve known Edna for a couple years and this is typical of her haughty act she puts on from time to time when things aren’t going her way.“ Jane waited until Shelley had finished reading the last sheet, then said to the sheriff, “I’d have to study this again to be sure, but it looks to me like nobody is very reliable about what went on between two and three.”
    Taylor nodded. “That’s true. That’s why I was hoping you could substantiate any one of these stories.“
    “Only Eileen,“ Shelley said. “She was in a class with me at two o’clock.“
    “But you left not long after it started—when Mrs. Jeffry came to get you, right?“ Taylor asked.
    “Yes, and she could have left right afterwards as far as I’d know.”
    Jane flipped back through the pages. “During that time, Liz and Bob are getting lost and having adventures with the falcon person—or people. John Clay-pool’s sleeping in his van. Eileen left the class at some point and went to soak in a hot tub. Benson’s taking a solitary walk. Allison is fixing my laptop, though it could have taken her only a few minutes. Al’s lost in the woods. Edna’s not saying where she was.”
    Taylor nodded. “Right. About the only people who weren’t ‘missing’ in some fashion were you and Mrs. Nowack. And the kids working in the kitchen.”

Twenty-two

    “What about Marge?“ Shelley asked.
    “She didn’t write it out, but says she and Henry McCoy went back to their cabin and he went off on a mysterious errand, promising to return in a few minutes. He never came back, she never left. According to her, that is.”
    Jane handed back the papers. “I’m really sorry we’re not more help.“
    “Not half as sorry as I am for not taking you seriously when you claimed you’d found a body the first time.“ He rose wearily from his chair and said, “If you’re ready to go, I’ll have my deputy see you home.“
    “Speaking of home—our real home, that is,“ Jane said, “any chance of us leaving tomorrow like we were supposed to?”
    He nodded. “Possible. Got a National Guard group putting in an AVLB.“
    “A what?“ Jane asked.
    “An Assault Vehicle Launched Bridge. It’s more or less a tank with a folded-up bridge on top. They drive it into the creek bed and unfold the bridge. Two murders are officially considered an emergency. It’ll take months to clear up the paperwork on the bridge, and the deaths will generate official forms for years.“ He put his head in his hands, muttering.
    The deputy led them out of the room and waited while they picked up their belongings, with the rest of the group watching. “They probably think we’re being hauled off to jail,“ Shelley said under her breath.
    “Good. Let them think whatever they want,“ Jane said. “I think I’d rather be in a nice, safe jail than here. I want Aunt Bea to bring me breakfast on a tray.”
    The deputy tried to hide his smile.
    He checked out their cabin so well, they nearly went mad, looking in closets, under beds, even in drawers, as if he suspected a bomb. He went out on the deck and examined the surroundings with a monster flashlight that could have done duty in a moderate-sized lighthouse.
    “Is he ever leaving?“ Shelley hissed.
    Finally, mercifully, the deputy departed. “I never thought I’d wish for a television,“ Shelley said. “I want something mindless. Trashy, even. Something set in a city with lots of funny people who never heard of Wisconsin.“
    “I brought a bunch of books along,“ Jane said, fetching a backpack from the storage room. “They’ll probably smell fishy forever. Take your pick.”
    Jane got herself set up with the laptop on the floor of the bathroom doorway—electrical plug for the modem going one way, telephone cord going theother—while Shelley rummaged through the books.
    She rejected the mysteries and found a beat-up paperback historical novel. She started a new fire in the fireplace and got her coffeemaker going. In other circumstances, it would have seemed like the coziest of evenings.
    And they were both determined to pretend that was the case. “What are you doing with the computer?“ she asked Jane.
    “Just checking my E-mail and some internet addresses Allison gave me.”
    A little later, Shelley brought her a cup of coffee and hunkered down to look at the small