War and Peas

thought for a minute. “I guess I really don’t. I went into her office this morning, to put some flowers on her desk. I guess it was stupid, but I saw them for sale on a street corner on the way to work and it seemed a nice thing—“
    “It was nice,“ Shelley said. “You don’t have to explain yourself on that score. But what time was that?“
    “Nine or so.“
    “And did you lock the door when you came out?“ Jane asked.
    “I think so. Yes. Well, maybe.“
    “So anybody might have gone in there anytime today?“
    “Not really. There are always people in the staff area—the tour guides on their breaks and such. Somebody would have seen if anyone else went inside.“
    “Wasn’t that true during the board meeting, too?“ Shelley asked.
    Sharlene shook her head. “I don’t think so. There weren’t any scheduled tours this afternoon and there were only the two volunteers and they were sitting out in the lobby the whole time, chatting with the woman who was working the gift shop. I already asked them.“
    “Was anything taken from the office?“ Jane asked.
    “I don’t know. It’s such a mess,“ Sharlene said. “It’ll take me forever to straighten it out. I better start—“
    “No,“ Jane said. “Let’s go up and get the room locked right now and call the police.“
    “The police! Why?“ She stared at Jane for a minute, then added, “Oh, of course. How dumb of me.”

Ten

    Fortunately, Babs McDonald had known about the vandalism sooner and thought faster. By the time Shelley, Jane, and Sharlene emerged from the basement, Babs had locked up Regina’s office and phoned Mel. She’d also corralled everyone from the board meeting back into the boardroom and shooed the three of them in as well before taking a chair from which she could keep an eye on the violated office through the open door.
    “That nice young man who’s a friend of yours was on his way over anyway,“ Babs said to Jane. “I don’t believe either of you has met Mr. Abbot, have you? Whitney Abbot, our architect. This is Jane Jeffry and Shelley Nowack. They’re doing the preliminary data entry on the museum contents.”
    Jane’s first impression of him was of cool perfection. Perfect teeth, perfectly groomed John Kennedy hair, a perfectly fitted charcoal-gray, three-piece suit without a wrinkle or a speck of lint (or cat hair, which any dark garment Jane owned was sure to be blighted by) anywhere. He wasn’t a big man and probably hadn’t stood more than an inch or two taller than Regina, but he looked fit in an expensive handball-and sauna way.
    He shook their hands—Jane noticed his fingernails were immaculate and manicured to a subtle gloss—and said, “That’s a big job. We’re all grateful.“ He spoke quite formally.
    “Ms. Palmer’s plan makes it much easier than it might otherwise have been,“ Shelley said, matching his formality. “We didn’t know her, but we’re very sorry about her death. It was terrible for everyone and, I’m sure, especially so for you.”
    He nodded. “An unimaginable loss.”
    The remark wasn’t so much cold as it was meaningless, Jane thought. But then, they were strangers to him. Why should he pour out his heart? Perhaps he was still in a state of shock. Or perhaps he was just a very reserved person who was unaccustomed to expressing his feelings freely.
    There was a moment’s awkward silence before the entire group turned at the sound of Caspar Snellen’s voice in the doorway. “Where is everybody?“ He looked around, perplexed. “What are you all doing in here? Having a wake or something?”
    This tasteless remark seemed to just hang in the air, obscenely, for a long moment until Babs took charge. “Caspar, you’d better come in.
    We’re waiting for the police and I’m sure they’ll want a word or two with you.“
    “Me? Why me?“
    “Because you’re here,“ Babs said curtly. “And Regina’s office has been trashed.“
    “Oh, no, you don’t! You’re not sticking me with it. I didn’t like the bi—her, but I didn’t kill her and I haven’t violated her office.”
    Georgia rose and took his arm, hissing, “Shut up, Caspar.“
    “Why should I? This whole gang would love to blame everything on me, and you’re playing footsie with them.”
    Jane observed the others. Whitney Abbot was simply staring at the brother and sister, but there was a muscle twitching in his jaw. So there was some emotion in him after all. Lisa was looking away, out