“Louisiana State University Department of Sociology,” a woman’s voice eventually drawled into my ear. “How may I direct your call?”

“Doctor Rieth’s office, please,” I replied.

“Please hold.”

I continued watching the pointer as I nudged it around the screen. My real attention, however, remained focused on the hollow sound of the phone as I waited for the transfer to occur.

A minute or so passed before there was a dull click at the other end and a new voice issued from the handset. “Doctor Rieth’s office, this is Kathy, may I help you?”

“Good afternoon, Kathy,” I said as I rocked back forward and straightened my posture. “Is Doctor Rieth in by any chance?”

“No sir, I’m afraid she’s gone for the holiday break. I’m her assistant, can I help you?”

It hadn’t even dawned on me that Thanksgiving was less than one week away at this point. Considering that, I was probably fortunate to have reached anyone at the university at all.

“No offense, but probably not,” I replied. “I’m calling from Saint Louis, and I need to speak with the doctor about something in her book, Voodoo Practice in American Culture.”

I glanced at the corner of my desk where the tome was resting atop a pile of other books, all with the same general subject matter, Afro-Cuban religion and mysticism.

“I’m sorry, sir, but all queries regarding Doctor Rieth’s books should be made via the University Press,” Kathy replied, launching into a decidedly prepared sounding spiel. “The address can be found…”

“I understand that,” I spoke up, truncating her instructions. “Please understand that I’m not looking for an autograph or trying to dispute her or anything like that. I’m doing some research regarding a murder investigation here, and I think she might be able to help me.”