Page 74 of Unnatural Death

“Well, it was thrilling to watch you take off in that big helicopter Lucy was flying. You must be so proud.” Shannon opens the spiral notebook she’s holding. “I had such a grand time listening to all the comments. Some of them favorable. But certainly not most. I wrote them down if you care to see them.”

“No thank you. Speaking of poison. Probably half of Maggie’s people were loitering out there. I can well imagine the sorts of things said.”

CHAPTER 28

IONLY THOUGHT OF IT because you mentionedignorance not being bliss.” She puts on her zany reading glasses, pink like most things she owns. She turns pages in the notebook. “And not only Maggie’s people loitering. But Maggie herself. She didn’t linger. Was there long enough to make choice comments. I’ll share just a few.”

From our connecting doorway, Shannon begins reading comments she overheard. It doesn’t matter that I don’t want to hear them. She’s going to make sure of it anyway:

“It’s political. The governor making sensational cases all about herself.”

“She’s trying to convince us how powerful she is by sending in Black Hawk Down.”

“Another stunt at the taxpayers’ expense.”

“Anyone who wastes money like that isn’t fit for office.”

“It’s just like a woman to do something so stupid …”

“In other words,” Shannon explains to me, “Maggie was telling everyone that the governor sent the helicopter to pick you up.”

“That’s patently false,” I reply.

“The implication is that Roxane Dare can’t properly handle an emergency. And obviously she’s a spendthrift. All fitting the sexist stereotype,” Shannon concludes.

“Roxane had nothing to do with Lucy transporting people back and forth to Buckingham Run,” I repeat.

“Those are just some of the comments Maggie made,” Shannon informs me. “I have pages of what she and other people said, mostly implying that you’re always creating a spectacle, making sure you draw attention to yourself. And that the governor is weak and showed poor judgment appointing you—”

“Thank you, that’s enough,” I interrupt. “It’s like being on the playground in grade school and hearing kids making fun of you and your friends.”

“Yes indeed, it’s exactly like that. Everything seems to be the schoolyard all over again.” Shannon closes her notebook, clipping the pen on the cover. “It’s just surprising that Maggie would be so openly ugly about the very person who got her this job. One has to wonder how the governor would react if she knew the things Maggie says about her?”

“And Maggie said all this right in front of you.”

“There was quite a crowd, no one paying me any mind, which was my intention,” Shannon says. “It’s amazing what people say if they don’t take you seriously. I’ve always been good at putting on the odd duck act.”

“Thankfully it’s just an act,” I reply ironically, because she’s the definition of a true eccentric.

When I was starting out in Virginia, she was a fixture in the judicial system. I would hear stories about this tiny Irish woman in crazy outfits she’d buy for a song at thrift shops and outlet malls. Always in a hurry, Shannon was never without her pink hard case containing stenography equipment, her lunch, a paperback novel. She’d go out of her way to be friendly and funny when we’d run into each other.

“Fabian mentioned he had a good chat with you this morning,” Shannon is saying from our connecting doorway. “He’s certainly made a turn for the better. At least there’s some good news I can report.”

He’s been more industrious and cordial than usual. Instead of looking sullen he’s been upbeat and working at warp speed, “like the Energizer Bunny.” She tells me that when she retrieved her lunch from the breakroom refrigerator, he was making chicory-laced coffee in his French press.

“He insisted on fixing me a cup, and I can see why he has his mother send it from Louisiana,” Shannon says. “It was delicious, and he couldn’t have been more pleasant.”

She watches as I return to the conference table, retrieving the plastic evidence container. I place it inside the fiddle fig tree’s big terra-cotta pot on wheels, giving Jiminy a view of greenery and rich soil. Maybe he’ll think he’s outside. Maybe he’ll feel at home until his new pied-à-terre and other creature comforts arrive in twenty-four hours or less. He chirps a few times as if reading my mind. Or maybe he’s lonely.

“It appears you’ve made a new acquaintance, now isn’t that lovely. Might I ask where he came from?” Shannon inquires.

“Hitched a ride in a body bag.”

“The things we consider normal around here.”

“I’m no longer sure what normal means,” I reply as Shannon comes closer to take a good look at our guest. “Abnormal seems to be the status quo. Whatever we think can’t happen probably will.”

“Poor little dear. I hope he’s not missing his family.” Shannon bends down, peering through plastic, the cricket ducked out of sight.

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