'Nor did she have a prescription.'

My stomach tightened. I had never seen Primrose take so much as an aspirin.

'Equaly disturbing are phone cals made by Davenport on the evening of his death,' Larke went on.

Tyrel handed McMahon a list.

'You may recognize some of the numbers.'

McMahon scanned the printout, then looked up.

'Sonofabitch. The lieutenant governor phoned the H&F officers just hours before blowing his brains out?'

'What?' I blurted.

'Or had them blown out.' Ryan.

McMahon passed me the list. Six numbers, five names. W. G. Davis, F. M. Payne, F. L. Warren, C. A. Birkby, P H. Rolins.

'What was the sixth cal?'

'The number traces to a rented cabin in Cherokee. Sheriff Crowe is checking it out.'

'Tempe, show Dr. Tyrel what you just showed me.'

McMahon reached for his phone.

'It's time to run these bastards to ground.'

===OO=OOO=OO===

Larke wanted to examine the marks firsthand, so we went straight to the morgue. Though I'd had nothing since coffee at seven, and it was after one, I had no appetite. I kept seeing Primrose, wondering what she'd discovered. What threat she'd posed. And a new question: Was her murder linked to the death of the lieutenant governor?

Larke and I spent an hour going over the bones, the ME looking and listening closely, now and then asking a question. We'd just finished when my cel phone rang.

Lucy Crowe was in Waynesvile but had something she needed to discuss. Could we meet around nine at High Ridge House? I agreed.

As we were disconnecting she asked a question.

'Do you know an archaeologist named Simon Midkiff?'

'Yes.'

'He may be involved with this H&F bunch.'

'Midkiff?'

'His was the sixth number Davenport dialed before his death. If he tries to contact you, agree to nothing.'

As we talked, Larke photocopied the pictures and articles. When he was done, I told him what Crowe had said. He posed a single question.

'Why?'

'Because they're crazy,' I answered, stil distracted by Crowe's comment about Midkiff.

'And Parker Davenport was one of them.'

He slid the photocopies into his briefcase, impaled me with exhausted eyes.

'He tried professional sabotage to keep you from that house.' Larke swept an arm in the direction of the tables. 'To divert you from this.'

I did not reply.

'And I was suckered in.'

Stil, I remained silent.

'Is there anything I can say to you?'

'There are things you can say to my coleagues.'

'Letters wil go to the AAFS, the ABFA, and the NDMS immediately.' He grabbed my wrist. 'And I wil phone the head of each organization first thing Monday to explain personaly.'