“ ‘Aunt Queen’s here, isn’t she?’ I asked impatiently as I made my way to the kitchen with her. ‘And as for Patsy coming in from New Orleans, it’s probably because she needs money, and we’ll be in for a big argument tonight. But I don’t have time for this. I have to tell you what I found out there. We have to call the sheriff right away.’

“ ‘The sheriff? For what!’ Jasmine demanded. ‘And yes, your Aunt Queen is here. She arrived about an hour ago, and nobody could find you, and the pirogue was gone,’ and so forth and so on for a straight three minutes.

“No sooner had she stopped her harangue than Aunt Queen appeared, and she threw her arms around me, dirty though I was from the swamp. She was her usual elegant self, right to the perfect curls of her white hair and her soft green silk dress. With Aunt Queen, it’s silk or silk, that’s about the extent of it, and I can’t think of embracing her without thinking of silk.

“Patsy also came into the kitchen and sat down opposite me as I settled at the table, with Aunt Queen taking the chair to the right of me and Jasmine putting a beer down in front of me and then sitting to my left.

“I pulled off my dirty garden gloves and drank half the beer in one swallow, and Jasmine shook her head but got up to get me another.

“ ‘What is this about the sheriff?’ Aunt Queen asked. ‘Why do you want the sheriff?’

“I laid out the earrings and the brooch, and I told them all about everything I had seen. I told them about the skull just disintegrating, but that I knew the sheriff could get the DNA from the white powder left of it to prove it was Rebecca’s, and that for a DNA match there was hair in the brush that Rebecca had used, upstairs in the trunk that bore her name. There was hair in her comb too.

“Aunt Queen looked at Jasmine and Jasmine shook her head.

“ ‘You think the sheriff of Ruby River Parish is going to run DNA tests on a pile of white powder!’ Jasmine declared. ‘You’re going to tell this cockamamy story to the sheriff of Ruby River Parish? You, Tarquin Blackwood, dedicated buddy of Goblin, your spirit duplicate? You’re going to call the sheriff? I don’t want to be in this kitchen when that conversation takes place.’

“ ‘Listen to me,’ I insisted. ‘This woman was murdered. There’s no statute of limitations on murder, and—’

“When Aunt Queen spoke, she was very soft and reasonable-sounding. ‘Quinn, my darling, I don’t think the sheriff will believe this story. And I don’t think he will send anyone into the thick of the swamp.’

“ ‘All right,’ I said, ‘I see. No one cares about this. No one believes it.’