blend of conscious and unconscious thinking, a way to keep his body occupied while his mind was free to wander.
Dani had sent him a text that afternoon: ABBIE’S DEATH SUSPECTED HOMICIDE. BODY FOUND IN LOCKED ROOM . As he pushed through his reps, he tried to think of why anybody would bother to kill a 102-year-old woman. The first thing that occurred to him was that her property was one of the most coveted pieces of real estate on the East Coast. It was possible somebody wanted her out of the way in order to acquire the farm—it sounded far-fetched, but he’d heard scarier stories concerning choice bitsof land in Westchester County. The second thing that occurred to him: was it possible Abbie knew something about Julie Leonard’s murder? Maybe someone still wanted to stop her from talking.
He quickly showered and hurried to his car, eager to take a second look at the video he’d shot of his interview with Abbie in the nursing home. The roads were slick with wet leaves and strewn rotting shells of smashed Halloween pumpkins.
Ten minutes later he was home. He paused outside his gates to retrieve a package from his mailbox, an item he’d ordered online after the Leonard case was closed.
He set the package on the food island in his kitchen, grabbed a carving knife, and sliced open the box. He knew Dani would make fun of him for buying yet another gadget, but he really needed this one. Unlike, for example, the Locator, a device that used microchips to help you find your keys or your sunglasses—which would probably have worked fine, if he could remember where he had put the Locator.
He inserted batteries in the handheld infrared thermal imager, flipped open the video screen, turned the device on, and pointed it at his refrigerator. His $10,000 Sub-Zero was supposed to have a perfect seal around its door gaskets, but the image on the screen showed a blue spot at the top of the freezer where the seal leaked, as well as heat from the condenser coils venting out the toe-plate and around the sides. Things that were hot registered from yellow to orange to red, and things that were cold went in the opposite direction, registering from green to purple to blue. When he swung the imager around to scan his kitchen, he saw cold air coming in from a window he’d left open a crack, and orange heat radiating from the lights above the sink.
When he pointed the imager toward the back door to see if any cold air was leaking in, he saw the outline of a man radiating a shimmering white aura.
He looked up to see Charlie, who had changed out of his tuxedo fromthe night before and was now wearing his customary black boots, jeans, and leather jacket.
“What’s that?” the angel asked.
“An infrared imager,” Tommy said.
“What’s it for?”
“Well . . . ,” Tommy said. He again felt a deep sense of awe and wonder, but at the same time the angel seemed approachable. “It measures heat. People use it to check their homes, to find places where they can be more energy efficient. For a better planet.”
Charlie seemed to be waiting for further explanation, so Tommy handed him the device and helped him point it toward the refrigerator.
“Cool,” the angel said, handing it back.
“I know,” Tommy said. “It’s a RAZ-IR PRO. It even has an optical lens so that—”
“I meant the air leaking from your freezer is cool,” Charlie said.
“Oh. Yeah,” Tommy said. “I should fix that.”
“Do you like root beer floats?” Charlie said.
“I do, though I eat sugar-free ice cream, which doesn’t work as well. But I like root beer floats.”
“Particularly on summer nights when you’re sitting on the porch,” the angel said.
“Exactly,” Tommy said, puzzled.
“Why are you trying to be energy efficient?”
“We all should be,” Tommy said, “but that’s not why I bought it. I’ll show you.”
He turned on the computer in his kitchen, logged in to his security system, then switched views from video feeds to
Dani had sent him a text that afternoon: ABBIE’S DEATH SUSPECTED HOMICIDE. BODY FOUND IN LOCKED ROOM . As he pushed through his reps, he tried to think of why anybody would bother to kill a 102-year-old woman. The first thing that occurred to him was that her property was one of the most coveted pieces of real estate on the East Coast. It was possible somebody wanted her out of the way in order to acquire the farm—it sounded far-fetched, but he’d heard scarier stories concerning choice bitsof land in Westchester County. The second thing that occurred to him: was it possible Abbie knew something about Julie Leonard’s murder? Maybe someone still wanted to stop her from talking.
He quickly showered and hurried to his car, eager to take a second look at the video he’d shot of his interview with Abbie in the nursing home. The roads were slick with wet leaves and strewn rotting shells of smashed Halloween pumpkins.
Ten minutes later he was home. He paused outside his gates to retrieve a package from his mailbox, an item he’d ordered online after the Leonard case was closed.
He set the package on the food island in his kitchen, grabbed a carving knife, and sliced open the box. He knew Dani would make fun of him for buying yet another gadget, but he really needed this one. Unlike, for example, the Locator, a device that used microchips to help you find your keys or your sunglasses—which would probably have worked fine, if he could remember where he had put the Locator.
He inserted batteries in the handheld infrared thermal imager, flipped open the video screen, turned the device on, and pointed it at his refrigerator. His $10,000 Sub-Zero was supposed to have a perfect seal around its door gaskets, but the image on the screen showed a blue spot at the top of the freezer where the seal leaked, as well as heat from the condenser coils venting out the toe-plate and around the sides. Things that were hot registered from yellow to orange to red, and things that were cold went in the opposite direction, registering from green to purple to blue. When he swung the imager around to scan his kitchen, he saw cold air coming in from a window he’d left open a crack, and orange heat radiating from the lights above the sink.
When he pointed the imager toward the back door to see if any cold air was leaking in, he saw the outline of a man radiating a shimmering white aura.
He looked up to see Charlie, who had changed out of his tuxedo fromthe night before and was now wearing his customary black boots, jeans, and leather jacket.
“What’s that?” the angel asked.
“An infrared imager,” Tommy said.
“What’s it for?”
“Well . . . ,” Tommy said. He again felt a deep sense of awe and wonder, but at the same time the angel seemed approachable. “It measures heat. People use it to check their homes, to find places where they can be more energy efficient. For a better planet.”
Charlie seemed to be waiting for further explanation, so Tommy handed him the device and helped him point it toward the refrigerator.
“Cool,” the angel said, handing it back.
“I know,” Tommy said. “It’s a RAZ-IR PRO. It even has an optical lens so that—”
“I meant the air leaking from your freezer is cool,” Charlie said.
“Oh. Yeah,” Tommy said. “I should fix that.”
“Do you like root beer floats?” Charlie said.
“I do, though I eat sugar-free ice cream, which doesn’t work as well. But I like root beer floats.”
“Particularly on summer nights when you’re sitting on the porch,” the angel said.
“Exactly,” Tommy said, puzzled.
“Why are you trying to be energy efficient?”
“We all should be,” Tommy said, “but that’s not why I bought it. I’ll show you.”
He turned on the computer in his kitchen, logged in to his security system, then switched views from video feeds to
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