Shoofly Pie & Chop Shop by Tim Downs Read Free Book Online Page B

at Wirth’s Amoco. She almost laughed aloud at the mental image.
    His eyes never seemed to rest and never focused long on a single object. It was impossible to tell exactly where he was looking at any moment. Kathryn watched the eyes moving over her. They darted to one side, then the other. They floated upward, then slowly sank again. They studied her, they analyzed her, they examined her; they saw everything but focused on nothing. Kathryn wished that his eyes would come to rest on hers; she wished that she could make contact with them—but the eyes always moved on.
    “I came here to make a legitimate business proposition,” she said. “If you’re not interested, perhaps I should take my business elsewhere.”
    Nick smiled. “I suspect there is no elsewhere, or you wouldn’t be here.”
    She softened her tone. “A friend of mine has died—a very old and dear friend. The police say it was suicide, but I think they’re wrong. I’m sure they’re wrong,” she added, then paused for emphasis. “I think he might have been murdered.”
    “Mrs. Guilford,” Nick cut in. “Dr. Tedesco and I are members of the faculty of North Carolina State University. We were sent here this summer to do research.”
    “You do research on dead people.”
    Nick’s eyes darted rapidly over Kathryn once more, as if he might have missed some detail in his initial estimation. “I do research on arthropods—specific insects that inhabit dead people.”
    Kathryn opened her purse and removed a folded photocopy. “From the
Holcum County Courier,
” she said, beginning to read. “‘Bug Man Comes to Holcum County.’”
    “May I?” he said, taking the photocopy from her hand. “‘Dr. Nicholas Polchak’—that would be me—’Professor of Entomology at NC State University in Raleigh, will spend the summer at the extension research facility here in Holcum County to continue his studies in the emerging field of forensic entomology, the use of insects to solve crimes.’”
    He quickly scanned the rest of the document. “Blah blah blah and so on, and—here’s the good part—’Dr. Polchak, a tall, muscular man …’ Now that’s outstanding journalism. Yes indeed, very well put.”
    A faint groan came from Teddy, who stood quietly staring at the pavement, shaking his head slowly from side to side.
    “Dr. Polchak, I need your help. And I need it right away.”
    He handed the photocopy back to her. “Mrs. Guilford, you need to go to the police. If the police won’t help you, you need to call the medical examiner’s office in Chapel Hill and talk to them. Or you can even hire a private investigator. I’d like to help you—really I would—but this summer I’m under strict orders to stick to research.”
    He turned back toward the Quonset. “Come on, Teddy,” he said, disappearing through the doorway, “we’ve got some sarcophagids to pin. Let’s not waste any more of the lady’s time.”
    Kathryn watched the door swing shut behind him.
    “I’m very sorry,” Teddy said, looking truly regretful. “He meant what he said—he really would like to help you. But to tell you the truth, this summer he’s been given strict orders to stay out of trouble.”
    “There won’t be any trouble.”
    “Trust me. With Nicholas, there’s always trouble.” And with a heavy sigh he turned and followed his colleague back into the lab.
    Kathryn turned slowly back toward the path to her crumpled car. She stood motionless for several seconds, staring directly ahead.
    Suddenly she wheeled around, fists clenched, her face flushed with anger. She marched up to the broken screen door, flung it open hard, and charged through the open doorway—then just as quickly drew back again. There was the same glass case, now occupied by three brown scorpions. The terrarium at her left elbow contained a tree branch where black, metallic-shelled beetles swarmed up, then dropped off in clusters like thick blobs of oil. In the terrarium on her right, a