Shelley pointed at the shopping bags heaped at the bottom of the stairway. 'What's all that?'
“Clothes for Todd. Nasty clothes. Cost a fortune and none of them fit. The trousers all fall down in folds around his feet, the shorts bag halfway down his calves, and the pullover shirts all look like I bought them at a Big and Tall store. Waste of fabric and he looks like a bag lady in them. Not only that, they're all brown or gray or black. I tried to slip a slate-blue item past him, but failed.'
“He'll be right in style and look exactly like the rest of his friends.'
“I always thought one of the primary things about human nature is that we'd all like to look better than our friends — if ft's not too much trouble.'
“Not for teenagers. Frankly, I like the baggy stuff. At least for the girls. I don't want Denise inflaming the hormones of some gropey boy.”
Jane nodded. 'I remember quite a lengthy discussion a couple years ago with Katie about a pointy-boobed corset she actually thought I was going to let her wear over her clothes. I guess this baggy stuff they all wear is an improvement. But Katie wants me to spend a fortune on combat boots. Real combat boots! Jeez!”
There was another knock at the door and this time Jane went to open it. Mel stood on the step, a grin on his face and a paper bag from Burger King in his hand. 'Can I eat here?'
“Sure. If I'd known you were coming, I'd have ordered you some real food.”
Shelley and Jane were bursting with questions, but knew better than to interfere with his meal. He polished off the burger and fries and looked longingly at the remaining quarter of Jane's sandwich, which she turned over to him.
When he was done and had put his plate in the sink, he sat down and said, 'You two look like vultures. Very attractive vultures. What do you want to know — that I'm free to tell you?'
“Everything,' Jane said.
“The gun was from the museum — a.41-caliber percussion pocket pistol, made by Henry Deringer in Philadelphia, probably in the 1850s.'
“How far away was it fired from?' Shelley asked.
“Can't tell. It wasn't too close because there weren't powder burns on her clothing, except some on her sleeve, nowhere near the wound. That was, we assume, from a reenactor who shot a blank past her, but close up.'
“I thought forensic people had formulas and things to figure out how far away the gun was,' Jane said.
“Not in this case. They don't see derringers involved in homicide cases much anymore. The last one that comes to mind is Abe Lincoln. You see, this old gun didn't fire cartridges. The way it works is that you pour loose gunpowder down the barrel and then ram a round lead bullet wrapped in a piece of cloth down on top of the powder. Then you put a small copper percussion cap containing a mercury fulminate on a nipple under the hammer. When the hammer falls, it detonates the mercury fulminate and a flame flashes through a hole in the nipple into the rear of the barrel. That sets the gunpowder off and sends the bullet on its way.'
“So if you don't know how much gunpowder the murderer used, you can't tell how hard the gun shot, so the modern formulas don't work?' Shelley asked.
Jane looked at her with amazement.
Mel nodded. 'Exactly. And they don't know much about spherical lead bullets anymore, either.'
“I thought things were supposed to be simpler in the olden days,' Jane said.
“They probably were,' Mel said. 'A modern firearm is a lot more complicated. You just don't have to know as much about it to fire it. Think of them as more 'user-friendly.' '
“But only a 'gun nut' would know how to fire the old one,' Jane said.
Mel shook his head. 'You'd be surprised how many people know about guns. Anyone who works in a museum, probably. And a lot of other people, too.'
“What about the second reenactment?' Shelley asked. 'The one that was filmed.'
“No help at all. And before you ask, we've run down nearly everyone who was watching the first time and nobody had a video camera. One woman had a still camera and took a few pictures, but they're all of the soldiers, not the civilian reenactors.'
“Go back to the gun,' Jane said. 'Could it have been fired from the woods instead of on the field?”
Mel nodded. 'Afraid so. And nobody admits to having been in the woods except the reen-actors, if that's the next question.'
“It was. What about the museum case the gun was in?'
“No fingerprints whatsoever. A few fibers of paper towel stuck in the edges. Somebody went to considerable lengths to clean it up. And that might not have been deliberate. The volunteers say they often go around with a glass cleaner and paper towels when they're not guiding tours. With so many cases and so much glass, it's a constant job. One of the tour guides thinks she might have cleaned that case last Friday, but can't remember if the gun was in there or not. She had no reason to pay attention.'
“Doesn't firing a gun leave powder on your hands?' Shelley asked.
Mel nodded. 'It does. But by the time we had an idea of what had happened, almost all the museum people who participated had gone to that mobile home, taken showers, washed their hair, and so forth. We didn't even test anyone. If we'd tried to bring in a case on the basis of traces of gunpowder, we'd have been laughed out of court. Everyone who participated probably had some powder on their clothes and hands.'
“So much for science,' Shelley said. 'What about alibis?'
“Just as bad,' Mel said. 'Babs, Sharlene, Lisa, and Tom Cable were right there on the field. No alibi at all, but all four of them didn't do it. Georgia says she was buying cotton candy, which seems so out of character that I almost have to believe her. Derek says he was in the museum's mobile home by himself. He didn't like admitting it. I think he was up to something he shouldn't have been, like pawing through the women's clothes left in the mobile home. Or maybe he's lying.'
“What about Caspar Snellen?' Jane asked. 'Vague. Looking around the fair,' Mel replied. 'Could be true.'
“And Whitney Abbot?' Shelley asked sharply.
Mel smiled. 'Your personal favorite, I take it?”
Shelley shrugged.
“Says he arrived a few minutes before the reenactment, but had misunderstood the time it was to happen and sat in his car doing some paperwork. Had the engine running, windows up, and air-conditioning on full blast. Says he didn't even hear the battle. Claims the first he knew there was something wrong was when the ambulance and police cars arrived. And that, too, could be true.'
“I must say I'm surprised at how well you're taking all this,' Jane commented.
“I'm only second in command,' Mel said. 'It's nice for a change.'
“The guy with the food poisoning's back on the job?' Jane asked.
“Home. Sticking close to his bathroom. Trying to run a murder investigation by phone. I wouldn't trade places with him for anything.'
“What about the incident today, with Regina's office?' Shelley asked.
“Don't know much of anything yet. Babs and Sharlene are trying to put everything back together and figure out if anything's missing. I've got to go back there in a little while. But Sharlene said there wasn't anything obviously gone. Regina's most important papers were accounted for before I left.'
“What could someone have been searching for?' Jane mused. 'Or was it a search rather than plain old vandalism?'
“Looked to me like a search. There were lots of things that could easily have been broken or torn up, but weren't.'
“It must be connected to her murder,' Shelley said.
Mel shook his head. 'Not necessarily. Maybe someone saw the fact that the office was unoccupied as an opportunity to grab something they didn't want anyone else to know about.'
“Like what?' Shelley asked.
“Oh, suppose someone had written a letter of complaint about one of the employees or volunteers. Regina might have called the accused person on the carpet and said, 'Straighten up or I show this to the board.' “
Shelley nodded. 'I guess that's possible. So who could have been in there, unnoticed?'
“Nearly anyone,' Mel said. 'The last time anyone admits to being in that office was Sharlene, first thing in the
