Page 15 - Labelle Gramercy, Detective

Road Kill

sun for that time of day checks out with the location she says she and
the other girl were at. We found his body on the other side of the
slope, out of their line of sight. Had that outfit on she described. Hat
and shirt fell off during the fall; found them on the rocks. Specimen
bag nearby, only two or three bits of flora inside. He took quite a
header: death instantaneous, I’d say, pending the coroner’s report.
We have the rock that killed him. I found it few dozen feet further
down; must have gotten knocked loose by the impact. Bit of blood
and hair to clinch it.”
I grimaced. These were not details I needed to hear.
“All right, Holloman. Just one more question for you. Do you
think Ross Ewidge had any reason to kill himself?”
“Really, Captain: I didn’t know the man socially. He was a bit of a
peacock, always dressed more fashionably than the rest of us, and he
took great pride in his sports car. I never heard him say anything to
indicate a nervous or despondent state of mind. He was single, and
I’m sure played the field. Most of us who look old and married are
old and married.”
“Then that’s it.” He rose and lumbered toward the door. “Got to
give old Foster a briefing before I leave, or I’ll never hear the end of
it. If I were you, Holloman, I’d keep an eye on that girl.”
“You mean Sherrie Cook? I’ll go send her to the nurse.”
“No! The other one. I don’t like her attitude. She’s not behaving
appropriately. Miss Cook, unreliable witness or not, is just what I’d
expect: a very upset young woman. Labelle Gramercy—let’s face it—
was enjoying herself. If she has a breakdown, the reaction may be far
worse than Miss Cook’s.”
I replied noncommittally. I had stayed out of Captain Fassner’s
business, and I had no intention of letting him into mine. He may
have had experience dealing with juvenile delinquents, but his
knowledge of teenage psychology was pitiful. He had fared less well
under her questioning than she had under his. If anyone had come
close to cracking during that interview, it was not Labelle Gramercy.

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I spent the rest of that day on administrative tasks—at least I tried
to: the students were all abuzz with the news of Ross Ewidge’s death,

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