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“You can skip over anything that doesn’t have anything to do with the classes my father allegedly taught.”

“You don’t remember them?”

“No, and I just heard about them today.”

Minnie nodded. “Okay.” She sighed. “Well, you weren’t around, and there was always a sense of secrecy with them. Wilmot might not have told you.”

I was pretty sure he hadn’t, but it was good to hear that Minnie might have thought that too. “You don’t want to give the sheriff the names of my father’s students, even if it means maybe finding a killer.”

She nodded. “I might have listened to a message from the sheriff come in, but I haven’t returned the call. He should come out and talk to me, but I made promises.”

“You’d tell him in person?”

“More than I would over the phone.”

“He’s busy, so I’m here.”

Minnie smirked. “You represent him?”

“Not in an official capacity, but I’ll tell him everything.”

I knew how precious crime fighting and solving resources were in Black Vulture and the county, but I was surprised that someone hadn’t knocked on Minnie’s door before now if the list of names was that important. I kept my expression neutral. Minnie didn’t need to know my doubts.

“That’s fine. I talk about the classes in the podcast, but I don’t mention the students’ names because I value their privacy. I’ve heard about some strange things going on around here and, though I can’t fully understand why your father is being mentioned, he is. Mark my words, though, Hazel, I will investigate all this too. I don’t think any law enforcement does anything well enough.”

I chuckled. “Another thing we agree on. I respect Calloway, and he’s a friend, but I always like to take my own look at evidence.”

Minnie nodded. “Exactly. Okay, well, I was one of your father’s students.”

“Why were you interested in taxidermy?”

“I’m interested in everything, and there wasn’t much to do around here back in the day. I was a teenager and there were boys. In fact, it was during the few classes that I had the realization that I was more interested in the girls than the boys anyway.”

“Stinky boys,” I said as she looked at me as if I might be surprised by her words.

Did anyone care about that stuff anymore? In Black Vulture, the answer probably was yes, but I didn’t spend much time hanging out with that group either.

“I was bored, or that’s what I’ll chalk it up to. Your dad was good to young people around town, do you remember that?”

“Sure.”

“Right. There are so many poor people in town. If he saw someone, particularly a teenager, who might need a meal or something, he’d buy them dinner.”

I nodded.

She continued, “Wilmot was approached by one person, but he didn’t want to have to get his parents’ permission, so he asked your father to keep it on the down-low. I bet that meant even from you, I’m afraid. You’re just a couple years younger than me and the other students.”

The locked doors, the change in Wilmot welcoming me into the lab. I didn’t remember seeing any students anywhere. I didn’t remember him not opening the door, but there might have been a time when he hadn’t.

But, knowing what I knew about Wilmot, his teaching willing students even if he should have run the idea by some parents didn’t surprise me. He was proud of what he did, and he looked at it as a service. It was his job, but he saw something spiritual in the mounts. If someone wanted to learn the skills, he probably would have jumped on the opportunity. And if they didn’t want to ask their parents for permission, then he was just arrogant enough to think that he could handle that appropriately too. I didn’t know laws or rules about parents needing to know about taxidermy lessons, but common sense told me it would have at least been polite to talk to the parents.

“What happened in the classes?”

She bit her bottom lip for a moment. Notification pings sounded from the computer, like she was receiving a slew of emails. She ignored the noise better than I did.

“So, I didn’t have the intestinal fortitude to be a great student to your father. I mean, your dad didn’t do anything really, but he showed us pictures first to give us an idea what it was all about. There were only seven classes. I was going to stop after the eighth class, but during the seventh … oh, Jesus.” She wiped her hand over her face as her skin paled.

“What?” I demanded.