“We will, when they come back.”

“They won’t be coming back,” Phyllis said. “They weren’t interested in us; they were looking for Meg’s grandfather.”

“So they said,” Henry muttered.

“My grandfather? Why?”

“They didn’t really say, dear,” Phyllis said. “They asked a lot of questions about where we were on various days and times, and didn’t sound as if they believed us. And then one of them said, ‘Look here, Dr. Blake,’ and we realized they had the wrong people. Blake and Blanke, you see.”

I nodded. Yes, that was an understandable mistake. But why would the FBI or the DEA or any other federal agency be trying to interrogate my grandfather?

“And they didn’t say what it was they were investigating?” I asked.

Henry shook his head.

“It was all very furtive,” Phyllis said. “They apologized for the mistake, but they didn’t look all that contrite—just annoyed that they’d wasted so much time with us. Anyway, we thought you should know.”

“Thanks,” I said. Clearly my reputation for being the practical one who should deal with crises had spread to the drama department as well as my own family. “When did this happen?”

“Last night,” Henry said. “They showed up just as we were sitting down to dinner.”

“Crab soufflé,” Phyllis said. “It was ruined; there’s no way to reheat a soufflé.”

I shook my head in sympathy. Phyllis was legendary for her fabulous gourmet meals, so I could well understand the outrage in Henry’s voice.

“You look as if you were on your way somewhere,” Henry said. “Sorry to interrupt you.”

“No problem,” I said. “I just stopped by on the off chance Michael was free for lunch. Let me know if anything else happens. Or if you think of anything else.”

As I headed for my car, I realized that I still hadn’t eaten. And it was nearing two o’clock. No wonder Michael wasn’t around—he was probably back at his meetings. I hadn’t felt the least bit hungry during the nearly four hours I’d been waiting for the police or answering their questions—given how my stomach reacted to finding Jasper, I had wondered if I’d ever want food again. But suddenly, I was ravenous. Might as well take care of that while I was here. I changed course, heading for the college cafeteria, and pulled out my cell phone to see if I could kill two birds with one stone. I called Sandie.

“Meg? How are you?” she exclaimed. “How’s Timmy? And has Karen turned up yet?”

“Fine, fine, and no,” I said.

“You sound down,” she said. “What’s wrong?”

“Someone killed Jasper Walker a few days ago,” I said. “I just found the body today.”

“Oh, my God,” she said.

“Look, I’m going over to grab a quick bite in the cafeteria. I know Nadine makes it tough for you to get away but—”

“Meet you there in five minutes,” she said.

Twenty-Two

Sandie was the perfect person to tell about finding Jasper’s body. Well, no—Michael would have been the perfect person, but since he wasn’t around, Sandie filled the gap nicely. She ooh’d and ah’d over everything I told her, exclaimed that she would never have had the nerve to do what I’d done, and generally made just the right amount of fuss over the whole thing. She even struck the right balance between concern for me and frank curiosity about the murder scene.