and forgot me for the fortieth time. Thatâs what I call him, Useless Fred, because of all the good he comes to, given the money I pay him.â
She said all this as if in a single sentence, slowly backing up to allow them to enter. In fact, they imagined that the uniformed Montpelier cop whoâd been asked to secure the top floor was less bored than he was frightened of being cornered by his hostess, since they could see him cautiously peering over the railing overlooking the two-story entrance hall where they were standing.
They honored his silent cowering by not waving or speaking out, instead heading toward the elaborate hardwood staircase and letting Miss Rockefeller know that theyâd be back down in a while, and maybe enjoy sharing a cup of tea then.
That central hall told the tale of the houseâwood panels, stained-glass windows, both soaring overhead to a vaulted, coffered ceiling and an enormous chandelierâsuspended like a relic caught between the Middle Ages and Downton Abbey. It was all on display from a magisterial staircase that ran along two adjacent walls, leading up to a landing suitable for an operatic diva. And yet, dust covered everything, the dirty windows demanded compensatory lighting at midday, and enough bulbs were burned out in the chandelier to render such effort futile. The rugs were threadbare, boxes were piled everywhere, there was a scent of mustiness touched by mildew in the air, and Perry noticed a few rodent droppings scattered along the treads as he climbed. The hired help of yore was being sorely missed.
âDamn,â he muttered. âSee that? And her nameâs Rockefeller?â
âThat means rich, bro,â Parker told him. âNot tidy.â
They found the patrol cop standing just out of sight from below. âYou the VBI guys?â he asked.
âOne and only,â Parker answered. He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. âShe got you cornered?â
The man only half smiled. âPretty much. I canât use the bathroom up here, âcause itâs a crime scene, and every time I go downstairs, sheâs waiting with that nonstop-talking thing. Sheâs a nice lady. Iâm not saying sheâs not. But she just never takes a breath, you know?â
âYep. Noticed that.â
Perry was looking around, mostly studying the floor. Parker tilted his head in his direction. âHeâs afraid of giant rats, or maybe cockroaches.â
The cop laughed. âNah. Itâs better up here. This partâs messy, but Raffner knew how to vacuum.â
âThank God for that,â Perry said softly.
âOkay,â Parker addressed the cop. âYouâre off the hook for a while. Weâre going to poke around. Weâll call the PD when weâre done so they can send somebody to sit on the place again. With any luck, youâll be off duty, huh?â
âGot that right,â the man said, passing them by and heading for the stairs. He paused a moment to point to a door blocking the distant hallway. âThatâs as far as it goes, just so you know. That doorâs locked. This side was Raffnerâs apartment; past there is someone elseâs. The old lady rents rooms above the garage, too.â
Parker nodded. âThanks.â He waited until the patrolman was out of earshot before he made an aside to his partner, âMaybe not so rich, either? I didnât know the other side was a rental, too.â
But Perry wasnât so quick to agree. âMaybe thatâs why she is richâher and the whole family.â He tapped the side of his head. âSmart, if you donât mind strangers wandering around your house.â
âDonât guess she does,â Parker agreed as they heard Regina Rockefeller burst into a volley of chatter as their colleague hove into view downstairs.
They began from where they stood, putting down the kits theyâd brought with them and struggling