Page 117 of Buried Too Deep

Cora turned to look up at Val, who stood behind her. “Are you suggesting my father’s murder was unplanned? A heat-of-the-moment thing?”

“Either that or the killer didn’t know he was sporting stains,” Val said. “Would those pigments have come out in the wash?”

Cora frowned. “I don’t know. I’d have to research that. If they didn’t come out in the wash, the killer might not have known that he was wearing paint. If they do wash out, then the paint was fresh and the killer had just come from his easel.”

Goddard was grinning. “I like you guys. This is amazing. I do have to share it with Detective Clancy, but you saved me a lot of time.”

“Librarians to the rescue,” Cora said wryly. “At least we have a place to start.”

“Thank you,” Burke said.

“Thank you,” Cora echoed, then extended her hand to Goddard. “I appreciate the work you’ve put into this case.”

“I really wanted to solve it for you,” Goddard said with regret. “But maybe Clancy can. Or your PIs. They have a good record.”

“Yes, they do. We’re going to drive by the site of the building demolition, just so you know.”

“Figured y’all would. There’s a diner down the street. Amazing shrimp, if you’re hungry.”

Cora made a strangled noise. “Shellfish allergies.”

Phin settled his hand on her lower back. “We’ll get a burger instead.”

16

Houma, Louisiana

THURSDAY, DECEMBER 15, 1:00 P.M.

CORA WATCHED PHIN AS VAL drove them to the site of the demolished Damper Building. Something was bothering Phin, but she didn’t know what.

“What is it?” she asked as Val parked the SUV in front of a pet store. It was as close as they could get to the building.

“Nothing,” he said.

Cora scowled. “Nothing always means something.”

Val cut the engine and turned around. “You okay, Phin?”

His hand had sought out SodaPop and Cora wasn’t sure Phin had even known it had done so.

“I might not be after I tell you,” he muttered, then sighed. “Tell Burke to park his truck and get in the front seat.”

“Okay,” Val said warily. “I just texted him. Are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

But his fingers splayed and flexed in poor SodaPop’s coat. His touch was always gentle with the dog, but SodaPop knew he was upset. Her little whine hurt Cora’s heart, because when the dog made that sound, it meant that Phin was close to an edge.

“You don’t need to tell me.”

Phin sighed. “Yeah, I probably do.”

Burke opened the front passenger door and climbed in. “What’s going on?”

Phin closed his eyes. “So…I was thinking about who restores paintings.”

Cora waited for him to continue, but he didn’t. Unable to stand his silence, she said, “People who work for museums.”

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