nearly touching him, she was so close. But he continued to ignore her, reaching her office, stopping in the doorway.
“Where?” he demanded.
“On the desk.”
He walked a few feet into the office. There was nothing on the desk that didn’t belong there.
“Where?” he repeated.
She stood next to him and stared. “This is impossible!” she exclaimed.
By then they could hear sirens. Henry had obviously dialed 911.
“I’m telling you, it was there.”
Footsteps were pounding up the stairway.
“What’s wrong?”
Keith turned to see Ben Anderson striding into Beth’s office. Several other men were behind him.
Ben gave Keith a seriously suspicious glare and hurried to Beth’s side. “What is it? What happened?”
“There was a skull on my desk,” Beth said heatedly.
“What?”
“There was a skull on my desk,” she repeated.
Keith saw the emotions flickering through Ben Anderson’s eyes. Dismay, worry, agitation—and a sense of weariness and annoyance.
“Not again,” Ben said softly.
Beth glanced at her brother. “Dammit, Ben. What is the matter with you? When have I ever been a scared-of-herown-shadow, paranoid storyteller?”
“What are you doing here?” he demanded of Keith, as if it somehow had to be the other man’s presence that had brought this on.
“Guest of the Masons,” he said softly.
“All right, what’s going on?”
This time, the question came from a uniformed police officer, who parted the gathering crowd on the landing and came into the office.
The officer, a man of about fifty with clear green eyes and a very slight paunch, looked around, scowling. “Where’s the emergency?”
“There was a skull on my desk,” Beth said flatly.
“A skull?” the officer said.
Beth sighed deeply. “A skull, Officer. A human skull.”
“Where is it?”
“It was there, now it’s gone.”
“I see.”
“I swear to you, it was there.”
“All right, folks. Clear out. Go back to what you were doing. This little lady and I need to have a talk,” the officer said.
“I’m her brother. Perhaps I can help,” Ben said. Beth looked indignant at the soothing tone of his voice, Keith noticed.
“Her brother. All right, the rest of you, please…” the officer suggested firmly. “Unless anyone else saw a skull?” he queried.
Some of the people who had gathered began to head down the stairs again.
Snatches of conversation rose to the office.
“Someone is playing a joke.”
“It’s not that close to Halloween.”
“Hey, didn’t we have a bunch of skulls as Halloween props?”
“Who are you?” the officer demanded when Keith remained.
“Keith Henson.”
“Are you a brother, too? Husband? Boyfriend?”
“I’m concerned,” Keith said.
“Look,” Beth insisted, drawing the man’s attention angrily. “There was a skull on my desk. Can’t you look for fingerprints or DNA, or something?”
The officer looked wearier than ever.
“Miss…this sounds like a case of mischief to me, and that’s all.”
Beth appeared outraged. “You mean that you’re not going to do anything?”
“I’m not sure what I can do,” the officer said. “Look, you saw a skull, but it isn’t there now. Your friends are probably right. Someone is playing a trick on you. Someone down there is laughing right now. Yes, I’d probably arrest ’em for it, if I could. This is malicious mischief. But I don’t know who did it, and I have more important things to be doing than trying to find out.”
“There was a skull on my desk,” Beth said again.
“I’m afraid it isn’t there now,” the officer said quietly.
“So that’s it?”
“What do you want him to do, Beth?” Ben asked in a conciliatory tone.
She stared furiously at her brother, then at the officer. She didn’t even seem to remember that he was there, Keith thought—either that or she was still so suspicious of him that she didn’t even want to acknowledge him.
“I want to file a report,” Beth said. “I want someone to do something. My office had been locked. I cannot believe that I saw what might have been a human skull on my desk and you don’t intend to do a thing about it.”
Keith had the feeling that the officer—Patrolman Garth, according to his badge—had been involved in crank calls more than once.
Garth walked over to the desk, studying it carefully. “There’s nothing here now. No sign of anything. And, I’m willing to bet, there is a master key.”
A tall, gray-haired man burst into the office. “What’s going on here?” he demanded. “What’s this about a skull?”
“Commodore, Beth thinks there was a skull on her desk,” Ben explained.
“Officer Garth,” the policeman said. “And you’re…?”
“Commodore Berry.”
“Perry,” Garth repeated, as if he was beginning to consider the entire place a joke.
“Berry. Commodore Berry,” the man said, highly irritated. “Current elected head of the club,” he explained. “Beth, what’s going on?”
“There was a skull on my desk,” she said.
“But there isn’t now?” he asked.
“No,” she admitted.
The commodore squared his shoulders. “Miss Anderson is not given to hallucinations.”
“Beth,” Ben said quietly, “don’t you think someone might have been playing a little trick on you? A number of people—including me—have those skulls left over from last Halloween. They were part of the table decorations. And the master key does hang on a hook in the maintenance room. We should be more careful.”
“Ah, yes, a master key. Hmm. You decorated your tables with skulls?” Garth asked.
“It was Halloween,” Ben said.
“Beth, is it possible it was a prop skull?” the commodore asked.
Beth appeared torn. “It’s possible,” she admitted. “I saw it and…and panicked, then ran downstairs to call the police.”
“Why didn’t you just call from the office?” Garth asked.
Beth stared at him, lifted her hands, let them fall. “Because there was a skull on my desk! I didn’t expect it to pick itself up and disappear.”
“How many ways are there up to this level?” Garth asked.
“The stairway from the foyer leads up here,” Beth said. “And there are restrooms up