“They’re graphic novels, Mother,” said Bibi. “And I also illustrate them.”

“Glorified comic books.”

“What she hates is that they’re autobiographically based, and she’s the visual inspiration for the main antagonist. Women make the best villains, don’t you think? Men are so clumsy and obvious.”

I hadn’t yet found a reason to bring out my pen and notebook. “Do you live here together?”

“Bibi does. I have a house on Paris Hill.”

The daughter gestured with her vape when she spoke. “You’re looking at the sole resident of the Professor Eben Chamberlain House Museum.”

“Are those macabre remarks necessary, Bibi?”

“Grow a sense of humor, Mother.”

I leaned forward in my chair as if preparing to rise. “With all due respect, Mrs. Chamberlain, I am here as a courtesy to discuss the letter you sent me. And while your family history is interesting—”

“He’s feisty!” said Bibi Chamberlain with delight.

“He’s on a tight schedule,” said Mariëtte. “The warden lieutenant who oversaw the search for my father-in-law always seemed pressed for time, too. I wondered what could be more important than locating Eben Chamberlain’s body.”

I settled against the leather headrest. “You’re referring to Warden Lieutenant Rivard.”

“I understand he was subsequently cashiered,” she said.

I kept my tone neutral. “Lieutenant Rivard is no longer with the Maine Warden Service.”

“Good! I’d like to think my official complaints contributed to his dismissal.” Mariëtte Chamberlain gripped her knees again. “I wrote to you, Warden Investigator Bowditch, because I read about your involvement in the arrests in Aroostook County last summer. You created quite a headache for your department! Your colonel resigned because of the scandals you brought to light.”

“I wouldn’t characterize it that way.”

Others did, however; many of my fellow wardens included.

“My impression of you, Warden Investigator, is of a man who refuses to toe the official line,” said Mariëtte. “My subsequent research confirmed as much. You are not afraid of making enemies. You must sleep with that sidearm under your pillow.”

“Do you?” asked Bibi, showing writerly curiosity.

“Mrs. Chamberlain, with all due respect—”

Mariëtte lifted an over-stuffed folder from the floor beside her. “Here is the complete file relating to my father-in-law’s death. You will see it has been augmented with my own research and assorted news clippings. Please review it, and then we will continue this conversation tomorrow.”

“Ma’am, I can’t do that.”

She brought the heavy folder to her lap. “Why ever not?”

“Because the Maine Warden Service conducted a thorough investigation. With the assistance of the attorney general’s office, it produced a report concluding no suspicious circumstances were indicated in the death of your father-in-law—as unfortunate as it was.”

“You’ve read the file then?”

“I have.”

“And what did it say—in your own words?”

The question was a test to determine if my visit was the hollow gesture she suspected.