MacDougal glanced up from his desk, sighing like he was irritated to see Maisie again. “If you’re here about Alice, she’s fine. Zoey’s mother picked her up last night. Nice woman from what I was told, good family.”
“I’m not here about Alice. I’m sure she’s in good hands.”
A look of confusion covered his face. “What are you doing here then?”
“I came to talk to you about—”
He raised a hand, stopping her before she finished. “Can’t talk to you about the case, so don’t bother asking.”
“Well, you don’t need to be an ass about it.”
He looked like he was trying not to smile. “I’m not being an ass. I’m being honest.”
“Huh. We’ve known each other a long time. It’s a shame the way you’re treating me. I stopped by to give you some new evidence, but since you treat me like I’m a stick of gum on the bottom of your shoe, I’ll be on my way.”
She pivoted and walked out his office door.
“Wait!” he shouted. “Get back here. Maisie, come on. Stop!”
She raised her middle finger high enough in the air for him to see it and kept on walking, the demonstration inciting an onslaught of giggles from all those in close proximity.
“I’m sorry!” he shouted. “Okay?”
She stopped, but didn’t turn around. “What did you say?”
“Come back into my office, and let’s talk.”
She turned, remained where she was standing. “I’m fine talking right here.”
She was toying with him after what he’d just done, and they both knew it.
MacDougal ran a hand down his face. “I apologize if I made you feel like you weren’t wanted. It wasn’t my intention. I have a lot on my plate. Okay? Now, will you get your butt back in here so we can finish our conversation?”
She walked back to his office, closing the door behind her. “I know what you must think when you look at me. You think I’m old, losing my mind, going senile, just another old woman who meddles, getting involved in things that aren’t any of her business.”
“I was going to say—”
“I don’t care what you were going to say. I know more about death and autopsies than you ever will in your lifetime, and I have more experience then you’ll ever have. So next time you feel inclined to put me in my place, think about that for a moment, would you?”
Voice softer, he said, “Are you finished? Have you said everything you want to say?”
“I’m not sure yet.”
“I don’t see you as old, or senile, or whatever other labels you just gave yourself, and your reputation around here proves you’re far from stupid. But you are irritating, and nosey, and no longer a medical examiner. You’re retired, which was a decision you made.”
“Yes, I’m retired, which isn’t the same thing as being dead.”
He pressed his fingers into his temples, kneading them. “I just tried to pay you a compliment. Several compliments, in fact.”
“You said I was irritating, nosey, and retired.”
He shot out of his chair and faced her, standing so close, she could smell the caramel-flavored coffee on his breath. “Dammit, woman! That’s not what I was trying to say at all. I’ve looked up to you since I started here. And to be honest, you’re actually kind of ...”
He let the rest of the words hang there, like he didn’t dare finish.
“I’m kind of what?”
“Attractive, for a woman of your age.”
Attractive?
She couldn’t believe she’d heard him right.
Silence permeated the room, both of them standing there, listening to the ticking of the hand on the wall clock as the seconds passed.
“I never knew you felt that way.”
“Yeah, well, don’t ... uhh ... get your head all inflated. You’re still irritating, and all of those other things I said.”
“And you’re a bully. Sometimes.”
“You are too. Sometimes.”
With the air sufficiently cleared, she refocused on the reason she’d come to see him in the first place. “You may want to sit back down.”
He sat. She did too.
“What’s this new evidence you have for me?”
Maisie reached into a paper sack inside her handbag and pulled out the baggie, dangling it in the air in front of him.
“Is that—”
“A gun inside a dirty bag? It is.”
He reached out. She placed it into his hands. He looked it over, turning the baggie around in his hands. “What in the hell? Where did you get this?”
“I dug it up in the Marshalls’ backyard this morning.”
“We went over every inch of that yard. How did you know where to find it?”
She told him what Ernest thought he saw the week before, and how she’d searched the same fire pit the police searched, also finding nothing, until she returned again, this time finding what she assumed Lane had hidden in the most unlikely of places.
When she finished, he said, “You lied to me about the shovel.”
“I fail to see why that’s more important to you right now than Lane Marshall burying a gun in his backyard.”
“You don’t know he buried it. No one saw him bury it. The gun could belong to anyone.”
“You’re right. It could belong to anyone. But we both know it was put there by Lane Marshall.”