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did not abate. “How are you going to go about the investigation?” Sykes asked. “You gonna grill us all?”
    “ Grill is an unattractive word, Sykes. Sounds like we’re gonna barbecue you. The Black Martin PD conducts witness interviews in an orderly fashion.”
    “How can the department handle this one?” York asked.
    “We’re not. I’m calling in the state troopers,” Armstrong said. “This kind of mess is right up their alley. Let them barbecue the witnesses.”
    Lacey looked at Vic for explanation. “Up to them,” he said. “Smaller jurisdictions call in the state police for crimes that require special investigatory skills.”
    “We got the investigatory skills,” Armstrong said, slightly affronted. “We just don’t have the manpower this kind of nonsense is gonna take.” Before Lacey could process that information, Armstrong turned to other matters. He jotted notes and peered at the body. He addressed Nicholson. “Will this blue dye wash off old Rod?”
    “Not any time soon. Looks like he’s been in the tub long enough for the color to set,” Nicholson said. “These dyes are permanent. If you get it on your hands and skin, you can have a dye shadow for days.” He sighed deeply. “If he’s been in there a while, I’d guess he’ll arrive at the pearly gates in what we like to call Midnight Blue.”
    “If he’s been in it overnight, he’ll be cooked,” Inez added. “When the heat’s on over two hundred degrees, it’s like a crock-pot.”
    “No, Inez, it was just standing dye. These vats were all turned off over the weekend. Couldn’t have been hot when he went in.” Nicholson stroked his chin and pursed his lips. “And if the heat was on, there would be a different smell.”
    “Thank God for small blessings,” Armstrong said.
    Lacey wrinkled her nose. There was a definite acrid aroma in the dye house. It reminded her a little of a nail salon. She had assumed it was just the chemicals in the dye, but now she caught a strong whiff of death.
    “Rod Gibbs will never get past the pearly gates. He’ll be a blue devil in hell,” Blythe claimed. “Make a nice contrast to all them red devils.”
    The cop crossed his arms. “He’ll amuse the medical examiner, for damn sure.”
    “You can’t keep me out! I’m the press!” someone yelled.
    Lacey couldn’t see the front doors through the little throng of witnesses and cops, but she could hear someone complaining. The local reporter had arrived.
    She got a glimpse of a slightly built man in his late twenties with a receding hairline. He was arguing with Officer York just inside the entryway. She wondered how he’d found out about the body so fast. One of the velvet workers or one of the cops? It’s good to have sources. She just didn’t want the competition to have all the good sources.
    “No one gets in to a crime scene who isn’t already in. You know that, Will,” York said.
    “ The Black Martin Daily Ledger has a right to know!” he shouted. “Tell me one thing, York. Is the body really blue? I heard it was Rod Gibbs. Can you verify that? And I want a picture.”
    “He’ll get a picture when hell freezes over,” Armstrong bellowed. “We take the pictures here, Adler.”
    York hustled the man out and locked the factory doors. The state police Bureau of Criminal Investigation was in Richmond. It would be a while before the state troopers and their crime scene van showed up at the factory. The local cops ordered everyone to different locations in the factory so they wouldn’t swap stories or agree on their reactions to seeing the dead man, though Lacey thought it might be a little too late. She was irritated to be left cooling her heels while Armstrong allowed Vic, a former chief of police, to accompany him to look at the rudimentary security measures that had been in place. Some ancient video cameras would be dusted for prints. It was unclear whether they would prove helpful. It was also unclear whether the cameras