Sadie nodded. "Of course, Seymour. You've been such a great help."

As I entered our bookstore's Community Events room, I noticed how many chairs had been set up and suddenly worried that fifty cups of coffee and forty-eight donuts wouldn't be enough (or rather forty-four, since Bud already had two and Seymour was angling for a second).

Then I moved toward the front of the space, and donuts and coffee became the least of my worries. While we were out, a terrible accident appeared to have taken place. The six-foot stepladder had fallen, obviously slamming against the podium in the center of the low wooden platform that served as our stage.

I rushed forward, seeing the leather sandal on the ground, then the foot it belonged to. Finally my eyes traced the dangling FILM NOIR FESTIVAL banner, mounted on the wall behind the podium, the loose material was stretched taut, still clutched in Dr. Irene Lilly's hand.

I knew the woman was dead without touching her. There was so much blood on the hardwood floor I would have to wade through it to reach the body. And it was clear that Dr. Lilly's head had struck the sharp corner of the low platform. Near the base of her skull, grayish brain matter mingled with the blood that stained her sunshine yellow dress.

"Oh, no. Oh, god… "

Swallowing a scream, I took two steps backward, then ran to the front of the store.

CHAPTER 6. Slip and Fall

AT SOME POINT during the investigation, Chief Ciders's size-twelve boots tramped through Dr. Lilly's blood. Now everywhere the chief walked his heels left faint, half-moon-shaped trails on the polished, hardwood floor. Objectively, I knew they were just little brownish prints, but whenever I saw those tracks I wanted to scream.

Behind the store's counter, Aunt Sadie blew her nose. "What a terrible, terrible accident."

"At least it was quick," Seymour said, attempting to console her-while simultaneously browsing our New Release table. "It was probably, just, you know. Lights out! Like that final episode of The Sopranos"

Sadie glanced toward the archway leading to the Community Events room and her expression darkened. "They've been in there for over an hour," she said softly. "What are they doing? What are they waiting for?"

For Chief Donut to get a clue, maybe, said Jack, who never was in awe of Chief Ciders's investigative prowess. And if that's the case, it's going to be a long wait.

Officer Franzetti stood near the front door, where the chief had posted him. Overhearing Sadie's question, he cleared his throat. "Actually, Ms. Thornton, I think the chief is waiting for a doctor to get here-a new guy, some expert from Newport named Rubino."

Any warm body would be an improvement over that lamebrain with a badge.

"Easy, Jack," I silently told the ghost.

Dismount off that high horse already, doll. I know for a fact you feel the same way about Ciders.

"The chief means well, Jack."

He threw you in the town jail last year!

"But only for one night-and it was all cleared up the next day."

Sadie blew her nose again. "Who is this doctor, Eddie?"

Officer Franzetti shrugged. "I don't know much. Only what I heard from Bull."

Seymour frowned. "Bull McCoy? He's in there with the chief? How did I miss that no-neck's grand entrance?"

"He came in when you were fetching your mailbag from the trunk of Penelope's car," Sadie informed him.

Seymour faced Eddie. "Then riddle me this, Batman-zetti. How is it that Bull is in there, analyzing the crime scene, and you're out here?"

"Bull is, uh… " Eddie cleared his throat again. "He's the chief's nephew."

"I recall that!" Seymour threw up his hands. "I also remember that lousy sucker punch he gave me last year when I tried to stop him from hauling Pen off to the hoosegow-but he's still a rookie! Not to mention a moron! What's the chief thinking using an experienced senior officer as a doorman?!"

Eddie folded his arms tightly but kept silent. Between Councilwoman Binder-Smith ordering him around like some lackey, and now Seymour tactlessly pointing out an embarrassing slight, Eddie was obviously having a horrific day.

Not as horrific as Dr. Lilly, Jack pointed out.

"True," I told the ghost, "but Eddie's my friend. It's time to change the subject of this conversation." I turned toward the front door, where Eddie was still standing.

"Eddie, you were telling us about Dr. Rubino?"

He nodded. "He's some hotshot Newport doctor. A couple of years ago, he did part-time work for the State Medical Examiner's Office. Last month he was recruited by Ciders to act as the local medical examiner on an as-needed basis. I understand he's doing that for other townships-anywhere the local police don't need to call in the Staties."

"Sounds like the chief is thinking ahead," Sadie observed.

Yeah, Jack said. If this new guy is jake, maybe he can talk cabbage with the Keystone Cops in this cornpone community. Or maybe the doc can pull a Dr. Frankenstein and put a brain into Chief Cipher's thick skull-one that actually works.

"Jack, you're not being helpful. And it's Ciders, not Cipher."

The man's a cipher to me. And I'll tell you who better be helpful: this new "expert" doctor. If he doesn't rule this crime scene hinky, he'll be batting as lousy as Chief Louie Lunkhead.

"Because?" I silently asked.

Because of last night, baby. You were there. You saw the "accident" at the theater. That's why I know this is all smoke and mirrors. A slick Houdini act meant to dazzle a dunce-in this case, Chief Smalltown and Deputy Dullard.

"Oh, my god, Jack… last night… "

All morning, I'd been assuming that if anyone was the target of that "accidental" falling speaker it was Hedda Geist. But with Dr. Lilly dead, I realized Jack was right.

"Hedda wasn't scheduled to make a speech at the Movie Town Theater last night. Dr. Lilly should have been standing on ground zero when the boom dropped!"

Do you remember what your Buddy Boy Mr. Hardware said? He hung that speaker himself. And he thinks somebody rigged a metal strut to break with a small explosion.

"You're right. And if the explosive was on a timer, then Irene Lilly should have been under it, not Hedda. Oh, god, Jack, if I could have figured that out sooner, I might have saved Dr.

Lilly's life!"

Easy, baby. Don't go taking on guilt you don't deserve. You've done that enough already. "What are you talking about?"

That lousy husband of yours, the one who decided kissing New York concrete was a better solution to his problems than acting like a man and sticking by his wife and son.

"Don't bring Calvin up now, Jack. I can't handle it."

There's one truth in life, baby: If someone wants to kill somebody else-or themselves, like your coward of a husband- they're going to do it. Doesn't matter what you, the law, or anyone else says or does. Half the time, killers don't even care if they get caught. They just want to pull the curtain on someone so much they think it's worth throwing their own life away. So believe me, because I'm leveling with you. You weren't the one who killed Dr. Lilly.

"But-"

The scheme failed last night, so the killer staged accident number two in your store. It's clear as day to me.

"But who did this? And why?" I paced the bookstore's aisle, passing McBain and McCrumb, Paretsky and Poe. "Is the killing over now? Or just getting started?"

Listen, baby, you can't solve a puzzle when half the pieces are missing.

"People guess at half-solved puzzles all the time," I pointed out. "What about Wheel of Fortune? You can buy a vowel and sound out the words. You don't need all the pieces."