Free The Blackbird Papers by Ian Smith Page A

them all, smoking their long cigarettes and sipping tea from his mother's china that she kept locked away for important occasions. Everyone had a cup in their hand, even Wilson. They laughed and puffed and sipped, acting just like the rich people he had seen on television. A bunch of phonies, he told himself. It was his birthday and Wilson was getting the attention. All these years later and he could still smell the sharp minty aroma. He could still see them crammed into the small living room and front hall, chatting importantly and tipping back those goddamn cups with the gold trim. It damn near killed him.
    Sterling fought off the memory as he stepped farther into the foyer and heard voices from the back of the house. He dropped his bag and followed the voices, walking through the large family room, then into a den that was almost as big as his entire apartment. Kay was reclining on a beige leather chaise lounge. Her hair had been tied back in a bun, and she hadn't bothered with makeup. Not that she needed it. Even in her late forties, with age beginning to touch the corner of her eyes, she still possessed the attractiveness that had drawn Wilson to her. What a waste that her genes wouldn't be passed on to children.
    The three officers made an odd picture, lined up on the couch across from her, all wearing different uniforms, hands folded in their laps. Something out of a seventies sitcom.
    “Kay,” Sterling said, walking into the open room. The ceilings were extraordinarily high, and his voice echoed for a while before the dark oak paneling swallowed it.
    “Sterling!” she exclaimed, instantly rising to her feet. “Thank God you're here.” Her eyes were swollen. Her black skirt fell just above her knees, showing off a pair of toned legs that would make most women envious. Her many years of dance still served her well.
    Sterling wrapped his sister-in-law in a bear hug, and he could tell by the firmness of her clasp that she was as scared as he was.
    He released her. “I'm Agent Sterling Bledsoe,” he said to the cops, who had also gotten to their feet. He walked over and pumped their hands as they called out their names.
    “I didn't know you were FBI,” the tall one with a heap of red hair said. Sterling read the name Hanlon embossed on his shield.
    “Most of the time,” Sterling said, helping Kay to her chair, then claiming his own seat on an unoccupied sofa. It felt good to finally get off his feet. “Right now I'm teaching anatomy at Hunter College in the city.”
    “When did you get in?” Kay asked. Her voice was strained, desperate.
    “A few hours ago,” Sterling said. “Some of the officers have been showing me around.”
    “And?” Kay asked, her back straightening at the possibilities.
    “They found the car over in the medical school parking lot.”
    “Yes, they called us here at the house.” The disappointment dropped her back into the chair.
    Sterling looked at the three men. “Who's actually leading this investigation from the local side?”
    They all looked at each other before Hanlon took a stab. “We haven't entirely worked out jurisdiction yet, because we don't know exactly where he was last seen. We're thinking that it's probably Vermont.”
    Sterling was surprised no one had wrestled control yet. Local cops always fought for jurisdiction, sometimes harder than they did to find the perps.
    The Norwich officer took his turn. “Professor Bledsoe lives here in Norwich, and Mrs. Bledsoe made her first call to us,” he said. “We're assuming that he was last seen or heard from down on River Road. But Professor Bledsoe does spend a good part of his time over at the college in Hanover, so it only makes sense that we combine forces until we figure out what's happened.” Diplomatic.
    Sterling looked at the trooper. “They called us in for support,” the trooper said. He was tall and had a fresh crew cut that perfectly matched the square shape of his face. He was broad across the chest and