'No,' I said. 'I never believed Joel did it. These days, everyone looks at the dad first. Did he molest her?' I did my television announcer voice. 'Were there dark secrets in the house that seemed so normal?' I smiled with a twist of my mouth. People sure loved believing there were dark secrets—they love discovering happy normal families are anything but. Truly, sometimes there were plenty of secrets, more than enough to go around. But Joel and Diane Morgenstern had struck me as truly devoted parents, and I'd seen enough of the kind of parents who weren't to recognize the ones who were.
'I never believed it,' I repeated. 'But—here they are. In Memphis.' We looked at each other. 'How the hell could it have happened that her body turned up here, the city where her parents are living now? Unless there's a connection.'
There was a tap at our suite door.
'The troops are here,' Tolliver said.
'Well. The troop.'
Art was missing a lot of his hair. What remained was curly and white. He was very heavy, but he dressed very well.
So he looked like an eminently respectable, sweet-natured grandpa—which just goes to show how deceptive appreances can be.
Art maintains the fiction that he is my father substitute.
'Harper!' he cried, throwing open his arms. I stepped in, gave him a light hug, and backed away when I could. Tolliver got a clap on the shoulder and a handshake.
We asked about his wife, and he told us what (but not how) Johanna was doing: taking art classes, keeping the grandchildren, remaining active in their church and several charities.
Not that we'd ever met Johanna.
I watched Art grope, trying to think of someone he could ask us about in return. He could hardly ask about our parents: my mother had died the previous year, in jail, of AIDS. Tolliver's mother had died years ago, of breast cancer, before we'd even met Art. Tolliver's dad, my stepfather, was in the wind since he'd gotten out of jail, having served his time on drug charges. My own father was still in big-boy prison, and would be for maybe five more years. He'd taken some money from his clients to support the drug habit he and my mother had developed. We never saw our little half sisters, Gracie and Mariella, because my Aunt Iona, my mom's sister, had poisoned the girls against us. Tolliver's brother, Mark, had his own life, and didn't much approve of ours, but we called him at least once a month.
And of course, there was never any news about Cameron.
'It's great to see you two looking so healthy,' Art said in his heartiest voice. 'Now, let's order some room service, and you can tell me all about this.' Art loved it when we ate together. Not only did it make the meal billable, but it also reassured Art that Tolliver and I were normal people and not some kind of vampires. After all, we ate and drank like the rest of the world.
'It should be up in a minute,' Tolliver said, and Art had to go on and on about how amazed he was that Tolliver had been so farseeing.
Actually, I was pretty impressed myself.
Art made notes throughout the meal as we told him everything we remembered about our previous search for Tabitha Morgenstern. My brother got out his laptop and checked our records to be sure of how much the Morgensterns had paid us for our fruitless search. We assured Art that we had no intention of charging them anything for finding her today—in fact, the idea made me sick. Art looked kind of relieved when I told him that.
'There's no way we can leave here without seeing the Morgensterns or talking to the police?' I asked, knowing I sounded cowardly.
'No way in the world,' Art said. For once, he sounded as hard as he actually was. 'In fact, the sooner you talk to them, the better. And you have to issue a press statement.'
'Why?' Tolliver asked.
'Silence is suspicious. You have to say clearly that you had no idea that you would find Tabitha's body, that you're shocked and saddened, and that you are praying for the Morgensterns.'
'We already told Channel Thirteen that.'
'You need to tell everyone.'
'You'll do that for us?'
'Yes. We need to write a statement. I'll read it on-camera for you. I'll take a few questions from the press, just enough to establish who you are. After that, I think questions will just muddy the water, especially since I won't be able to answer them.'
I looked at Art, perhaps with a certain skepticism; he gave me big hurt eyes. 'Harper, you know I wouldn't put you all in a spot hotter than the one you're in already. But we have to set the record straight while we can.'
'You think we're going to be arrested?'
'Not necessarily. I didn't say that. I meant, highly unlikely.' Art was backpedaling to firmer ground. 'I'm saying this is our chance to get in our licks with the public, while we can.'
Tolliver looked at Art for a minute. 'All right,' he said, when he reached his conclusion. 'Art, you stay here while Harper and I go in the other room and write the press statement. Then you can look it over.'
Leaving our lawyer no chance to offer another plan, we retreated to Tolliver's room, with his laptop to act as our secretary.
Tolliver settled at the desk, while I flung myself across the bed. 'Dr. Nunley never said anything to you, did he, about Tabitha? When he asked us to come here?' I asked.
'Not a word. I would have told you,' Tolliver said. 'He just talked about the old cemetery, about how it would
