me about this old murder,’ Miles said. ‘Who was it? You would have been a child fifteen years ago.’
‘Not now.’ Harper’s reply was sharper than she intended.
When he shot her an exasperated look, she gestured at the crowds around them.
‘There’s too much going on, Miles. I promise I’ll explain. But let me do it later, OK?’
‘Fine with me.’ His tone was curt, but he seemed more perplexed than angry.
Suddenly, he straightened, hands reaching for his camera.
‘Looks like we’re about to find out something.’ He gestured with his chin.
A cluster of police had left the house and was heading for the crime tape.
Detective Blazer strode ahead of the others, his sharply structured face somber. Two less senior detectives walked behind him, along with a few uniformed cops.
Miles was already shooting pictures as the group ducked under the crime tape. The TV crews hustled to shift camera tripods into place. Josh and Natalie held out fur-covered microphones, like gigantic caterpillars, to catch his words.
Pulling a notebook from her pocket, Harper limped past the neighbors crowding around to eavesdrop, until she stood next to Natalie.
When everyone was still, Blazer spoke in a cool flat tone.
‘This afternoon at 3:30 p.m., the body of a deceased person was discovered at 3691 Constance Street. The body has been identified as that of one Marie Whitney, thirty-four years old, resident of said address. Cause of death is still being investigated by forensic units, but the weapon used appears to be a bladed instrument. The case is being treated as a homicide.’
The crowd of neighbors gave a collective gasp and drew closer together – shutting the reporters out. Harper heard someone say, ‘Oh, sweet Jesus.’
Glancing up, Blazer frowned.
‘The time of death is estimated between eleven hundred and fourteen hundred hours. We would like anyone in the area who saw or heard anything suspicious at that time to contact the Savannah Police.’
He put his notebook away. It was a remarkably short statement, under the circumstances.
‘That’s it?’ Josh looked around the team of detectives.
Blazer’s brow lowered. ‘Print it the way I said it.’
‘I don’t print anything,’ Josh reminded him tartly. ‘I put it on television.’
Blazer glowered at him.
‘May I remind you a woman was murdered today?’ he said. ‘Can’t you behave with decorum for five minutes?’
‘Detective Blazer, please forgive my colleague from Channel 5.’ Natalie deployed her most winsome look. ‘Could you, perhaps, tell us about the girl we saw earlier? Is she related to the victim?’
Nobody could resist Natalie when she was on her game, not even Blazer. His expression softened infinitesimally.
‘All I can tell you is that she is the daughter of the victim,’ he said. ‘And she’s safe and unharmed.’
‘Could you tell us her name?’ Natalie asked hopefully.
Blazer had clearly anticipated this. ‘Her name is Camille Whitney.’
Josh leaned forward, jutting his microphone out. ‘Did she discover the body?’
Blazer fixed him with an icy stare.
‘I can’t tell you any more than that at this time.’ His gaze swung back to Natalie. ‘I’m sure you’ll appreciate this is a delicate situation and we want to keep everyone – particularly children – as safe as possible.’
‘Detective.’ Harper angled herself forward. ‘Have you got any suspects?’
He glanced at her without interest. ‘We’re not yet ready to divulge that information.’
‘Could you tell us more about the crime?’ Harper tried again. ‘Were there signs of a struggle? Do you suspect a relative?’
Blazer’s jaw tightened. ‘It’s too early for this. Give us some time to do our jobs here, would you?’
‘We’re trying to do our jobs, too, Detective,’ Josh reminded him.
By then, though, Blazer had had enough.
‘Thank you for your cooperation,’ he said pointedly.
Ducking under the crime tape, he stalked back towards the yellow house, the other detectives following a short distance behind.
‘Thanks so much, Sergeant,’ Natalie called after him.
As he rolled the microphone cable around his arm, Josh shot her a withering look.
‘Kiss ass.’
Natalie smiled beatifically.
‘Of course you can kiss my ass if you’d like, Josh. All of Channel 5 can.’
‘Seriously, though.’ Josh tilted his head at the retreating backs of the police officials. ‘What was that about? He didn’t give us anything.’
Miles appeared at Harper’s side, his phone in one hand. The puzzled look he’d worn since she’d insisted on seeing the crime scene was still there.
‘That’s all we’re going to get out here, today, I reckon. I’m heading back to the newsroom,’ he said, distance in his voice. ‘Baxter wants you in, too. Says you need the story before six for the website.’
She nodded. ‘On my way.’
He paused, staring down at the yellow house. ‘That was a short statement, wasn’t it? He didn’t say much.’
Grabbing her keys, Harper turned to limp to her car.
‘He said plenty.’
Back at the newsroom, she wrote up a quick article for the early edition. Miles sat a few desks away from her, pointedly not looking at her as he edited his photos. Harper knew she’d have to give him some sort of explanation for what had transpired out on Constance Street, but there wasn’t time now.
Still, the practical work of putting together the scant facts the police had been willing to share steadied her. When she finished writing, though, the article was far too short. She needed to know more.
Pushing other papers out of the way, Harper flipped through her notes from the crime scene. Hadn’t the neighbors said Whitney worked at a university?
Savannah had two colleges – the Savannah College of Art and Design and Savannah State University. The art school was downtown, not far from where Harper lived. It was funky and modern, populated mostly by tattooed kids
