Last Licks

“So,” Will said, settling into one of the webbed chairs, “as a cop, I’d say we’ve hit a dead end. If we look at the death of Gardner Scatterwell as a one-off murder, we have Alfred—someone with a very strong motive to do him harm, and no alibi—but no proof he was on the premises when Gardner died. We also have two individuals who happened to be working late in the facility, but one—Luke—has no discernible motive, and the other—Elsa—can only be placed near-ish the murder scene. Plus, if we go by the testimony of our eyewitness, Scatterwell accepted something to drink, and I can’t see him taking anything from a person he was tormenting.”

“But we have another possible theory,” Sunny pointed out.

“Yes, thanks to looking at some records we’re not legally supposed to be able to see, we can also theorize that Scatterwell’s death could possibly be one of a series of medical murders. A significant cluster of deaths seem to coincide with nights when Camille was on duty. However, while she had opportunity, we don’t have a strong motive—unless you think it’s worthwhile to match obituaries with dates of death and see if she had some sort of beef with the various deceased persons. And other than stroke, we still have no idea of means.”

“Not to mention the possibility that Gardner and the other folks did actually die of natural causes,” Sunny reminded him.

“Point noted, but we’ll put that aside for the moment.” Will looked at her expectantly.

“What?” Sunny burst out.

“I, as the cop, have laid out all the logical groundwork. This is the part where you, the amateur, come up with the unexpected plan, and I say, ‘It’s crazy, but it just might work.’”

Sunny gave him an incredulous look. “Has your TV been stuck on the channel with all the lame seventies mystery shows?”

“Hey, I’ve seen you pull this off a couple of times.”

She sat and thought for a moment. “Maybe we could . . .” Her voice died away and she shook her head. “That’s so crazy it wouldn’t work. Sorry, Will, not this time. I’ve got nothing.”

“Then I think you should use this conversation as the basis for writing up a report in the most persuasive language you can come up with,” Will said. “Maybe if you tease him with enough nagging questions, Nesbit might decide this situation warrants a closer look with a bit more legal oomph behind it.”

“Can I quote you on that?” Sunny asked.

Will made a face but then grew serious. “I think maybe we ought to meet tomorrow and work on a draft to run past Ollie.”

“He won’t like having to eat crow in front of Dr. Reese and the sheriff,” Sunny told him.

“Well, we can cite the usual constraints of time and the inability to compel the collection of certain evidence,” Will said. “Then Ollie can argue with Nesbit, lose, and it won’t be our fault.”

“Somehow,” Sunny told him, “I don’t think Ollie will see it that way.”

That idea was so depressing, they sat in silence for a minute. Then Will took Sunny’s hands. “We still have some time before your father gets back—” He broke off, suddenly pointing upward. “A shooting star!”

Sunny followed his finger, spotting a streak across the sky. “Oh, yeah, the summer meteor showers. It used to be easier to spot them before things got so built up.”

Will nodded. “Now they talk about light pollution. When I was a kid, I remember lying on the grass in the backyard with my dad, watching the sky.”

“I think we’re a little too well dressed to try that,” Sunny told him.

But Will moved his chair beside hers so she could rest her head on his shoulder, her eyes on the heavens.

It may not be moonlight, but I guess shooting starlight will do, she thought.

“One in seventy-five million,” Will murmured.

“What?” Sunny said.

“The odds of being killed by a meteorite.” Will turned to look her in the eyes. “I read it somewhere. “You’ve got a better chance of being killed by fireworks—or a bee sting.”

“I know it goes along with your job, but I really think you should work on your sweet nothings,” she told him.

“Maybe this is a case of do, not speak.” His lips came toward hers.

But the kiss was interrupted, not by a falling heavenly body but by a yowling furry one that landed on their heads.

*

Shadow heard muffled voices outside the house, but no one came in. Climbing on the couch, he saw a big car at the end of the driveway . . . no people, though. He went down the hall to the rear of the house, and the voices got louder. One of them seemed to be Sunny!

He boosted himself up onto the kitchen table and peered outside. Yes, it was definitely Sunny and her He, sitting on the deck. Why are they keeping away and leaving me out? Shadow wondered. It was probably the He, still angry about the boxes and the papers. Shadow stretched forward, one paw against the glass of the kitchen window. If he wanted to get out and join them, he couldn’t get through here.