It was one thing working alongside Nev to think our way through an investigation. It would be another altogether if the techs, uniformed cops, and other detectives there to do their jobs thought I was an interfering buttinski. Rather than stand there with nothing to do, calling attention to the fact that I was hanging around where I didn’t belong, I stepped back into the church. Nev was taking a look at the body. Me, I went in the other direction. Just like I had the night before, I walked down the main aisle of the church, stopping now and again to imagine all that had happened after Forbis dropped his champagne glass and ran. As long as I was at it, I looked around and wondered what Forbis had seen when he raced by. Pews. Nothing but row after row of pews. Though if someone had decided to duck into one . . . The thought struck, and I stopped and thought back to the scene. Though the art installation was brightly lit, it was pitch dark here in the body of the church, and even if I’d bothered to look around as I raced outside, I doubt I would have seen Forbis if he’d sidestepped into one of the pews and scrunched up to hide.
