her.
“What?”
“Nothing, just Penny escaping the noise out front. Look, the not-a-client is a mystery, yeah, but in and of itself we could assume someone was pranking you, maybe. Even the dead guy—that could just be bad luck he got dead, maybe someone else he’d pranked having no sense of humor. Or, hell, maybe the guy is your client’s nephew and he was trying to do something nice for his auntie, or maybe he was there to meet you because auntie was in the hospital.”
“And auntie doesn’t seem to exist, online?”
“I know this will come as a shock to you, Mallard, but some people don’t. Especially older people.” He’d only started paying bills online recently himself, mainly because Ginny had gotten on his case about it.
“But with your contact info in his pocket and him dead by violence, and you being the one to find him dead by violence? Your friend’s right, that’s when it gets serious.”
“Thank you, Captain Obvious,” she said.
“I’m just laying the pieces out on the board, Mallard; don’t snipe at me.”
She made another face, then nodded once. “Yeah, sorry. Go on.”
“Your friend’s also right that the cops might dismiss it out of hand because like you said, you’ve got an alibi, and odds are he was dead before you even hit town. But they might not—especially if they don’t have anyone else to look at. Unexplained murders in quiet neighborhoods, especially white neighborhoods, makes for a really bad time in the mayor’s office.”
She laughed at that, a little. “And you call me the cynic?”
“I only wish that were cynicism. The most obvious thing could be, he’s the guy who called you down there, for whatever arcane reason, and someone killed him before you got there. It’s bad timing all around, but if the cops find another lead, you’re in the clear, and worst-case ending is that we’ll never know why he pulled the scam.”
“When that’s the simple answer, my life has taken a seriously wrong turn,” she said dryly.
“Oh, a long time ago,” he agreed. “But there’s also the chance that the cops can’t pin it on someone else, and you’re not in the clear, not immediately, anyway. I wish we knew who the dead guy was . Any chance of getting that information out of the cops?”
Ginny tilted her head at him, her expression slipping from irritated to curious. “Tonica . . . are we investigating this? Officially?”
He stared back at her. “Um.”
“Because that would be really, really dumb.”
“It’s a fool who has himself for a client.” He thought Abraham Lincoln had said that, but college was far back enough that he wasn’t going to cite it, in case he was wrong. Not that Ginny would correct him—who was he kidding, of course she would.
But she didn’t counter-quote, proof that she was a lot more distressed about this than she was letting on.
“Right. Investigating this ourselves would be stupid. We’re just trying to get perspective on what might happen.” That almost sounded believable.
“I think—” There was a noise, and Ginny shifted, then suddenly Georgie’s head filled the screen. “Georgie!” her owner yelped, and there was a slight tussle as Ginny tried to reclaim control of the laptop from the curious canine.
“Having some technical difficulties there, Mallard?”
Her hand, one finger upraised, filled the screen, and he laughed, the tension not gone, but broken a little. He felt something nudge his elbow and looked down to see Penny’s head shoving her way through, coming to settle on his lap. “Well, hello there,” he said in surprise. Penny wasn’t an unaffectionate cat, but she was more of the “pause for petting” type than prone to laps or snuggling. Now she seemed intent on sniffing the computer monitor, as though trying to tell who was on the other side.
“Hey there, Mistress Penny,” Ginny said, reappearing in front of the screen, having apparently come to a compromise with her dog. “Come to
“What?”
“Nothing, just Penny escaping the noise out front. Look, the not-a-client is a mystery, yeah, but in and of itself we could assume someone was pranking you, maybe. Even the dead guy—that could just be bad luck he got dead, maybe someone else he’d pranked having no sense of humor. Or, hell, maybe the guy is your client’s nephew and he was trying to do something nice for his auntie, or maybe he was there to meet you because auntie was in the hospital.”
“And auntie doesn’t seem to exist, online?”
“I know this will come as a shock to you, Mallard, but some people don’t. Especially older people.” He’d only started paying bills online recently himself, mainly because Ginny had gotten on his case about it.
“But with your contact info in his pocket and him dead by violence, and you being the one to find him dead by violence? Your friend’s right, that’s when it gets serious.”
“Thank you, Captain Obvious,” she said.
“I’m just laying the pieces out on the board, Mallard; don’t snipe at me.”
She made another face, then nodded once. “Yeah, sorry. Go on.”
“Your friend’s also right that the cops might dismiss it out of hand because like you said, you’ve got an alibi, and odds are he was dead before you even hit town. But they might not—especially if they don’t have anyone else to look at. Unexplained murders in quiet neighborhoods, especially white neighborhoods, makes for a really bad time in the mayor’s office.”
She laughed at that, a little. “And you call me the cynic?”
“I only wish that were cynicism. The most obvious thing could be, he’s the guy who called you down there, for whatever arcane reason, and someone killed him before you got there. It’s bad timing all around, but if the cops find another lead, you’re in the clear, and worst-case ending is that we’ll never know why he pulled the scam.”
“When that’s the simple answer, my life has taken a seriously wrong turn,” she said dryly.
“Oh, a long time ago,” he agreed. “But there’s also the chance that the cops can’t pin it on someone else, and you’re not in the clear, not immediately, anyway. I wish we knew who the dead guy was . Any chance of getting that information out of the cops?”
Ginny tilted her head at him, her expression slipping from irritated to curious. “Tonica . . . are we investigating this? Officially?”
He stared back at her. “Um.”
“Because that would be really, really dumb.”
“It’s a fool who has himself for a client.” He thought Abraham Lincoln had said that, but college was far back enough that he wasn’t going to cite it, in case he was wrong. Not that Ginny would correct him—who was he kidding, of course she would.
But she didn’t counter-quote, proof that she was a lot more distressed about this than she was letting on.
“Right. Investigating this ourselves would be stupid. We’re just trying to get perspective on what might happen.” That almost sounded believable.
“I think—” There was a noise, and Ginny shifted, then suddenly Georgie’s head filled the screen. “Georgie!” her owner yelped, and there was a slight tussle as Ginny tried to reclaim control of the laptop from the curious canine.
“Having some technical difficulties there, Mallard?”
Her hand, one finger upraised, filled the screen, and he laughed, the tension not gone, but broken a little. He felt something nudge his elbow and looked down to see Penny’s head shoving her way through, coming to settle on his lap. “Well, hello there,” he said in surprise. Penny wasn’t an unaffectionate cat, but she was more of the “pause for petting” type than prone to laps or snuggling. Now she seemed intent on sniffing the computer monitor, as though trying to tell who was on the other side.
“Hey there, Mistress Penny,” Ginny said, reappearing in front of the screen, having apparently come to a compromise with her dog. “Come to
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