I’d brought on the counter. “Did you hear that, Spot? Street just called your detecting abilities a great art.”
He wagged, then turned and looked back at Street’s front door.
A moment later came a brief, two-tap knock.
I walked over. Even though I was armed with a 170-pound Great Dane, I bent down to look out the peephole. I didn’t have a peephole at my cabin, but being at Street’s, especially after the forced entry the month before, brought the responsibility of minimizing any potential threat to her.
I saw a fish-eye picture of a handsome man with skin the color of hand-oiled teak beneath black hair. Spot was next to me as I opened the door. Diamond gave him a knuckle rub on his scalp. Spot wagged.
“Sorry if I’m interrupting amore with business,” he said.
Street came over and kissed Diamond on his cheek. “Vegetarian dinner isn’t quite the same as amore,” she said.
“If somebody like you cooked it for me, it would be.”
Street smiled. “What’s the business?”
Diamond gestured at me. “The tall gringo has the story.”
Street frowned. “If we’re going to be treated to a story, maybe you should get some wine out of this bottle, first.” She handed me a corkscrew.
I pulled the cork as she got out three glasses. I poured an inch for Street and three inches for me. I raised the bottle to pour Diamond’s and then paused and looked at him in his dress browns.
“Off duty twenty minutes ago,” he said. “I’ll change to my jean jacket in my patrol unit.”
I poured three inches for him.
That would give Street an hour’s worth of sipping and fifteen minutes each for Diamond and me.
So I told them about Scarlett Milo calling me and what had transpired. I finished with the shots at me, but explained, truthfully, that I wasn’t in much danger because it is nearly impossible to hit an unseen driver behind a dark windshield on a moving vehicle. I kept it like upscale journalism, just the facts about person, place, and time, and I finished by telling them what Scarlett had written on the note. I did not include any editorializing or gratuitous details about the shooting. Street was very alarmed, but she had been involved in enough of my cases to know that things can get messy and disturbing, and she probably filled in the blanks with a realistic idea of what actually happened. Diamond had a better idea of the reality, aided by the reports he’d already heard.
“Gut sense?” Diamond said.
I shook my head. “It’s obviously not a random event. Someone had targeted her, and she knew it in advance of the shooting. They probably targeted me simply because I’d been a witness of sorts to her shooting. Unfortunately, nothing she said and nothing we found other than the note she wrote gave us any indication of what caused someone to kill her. And the note is puzzling enough that it seems of no help.”
Diamond said, “I heard that the note said, ‘Medic’s BFF.’”
“Right. Like a medic’s Best Friend Forever. I made a copy.” I pulled the folded copy out of my pocket. “Who knows what that means? But it gives us something to look into.”
Diamond took the piece of paper and looked at it. Then he handed it to Street.
Street was frowning. “She wrote this before you got there? It doesn’t make sense. Why would someone write an inscrutable note? Unless it was just a reminder to herself?”
“I guess I need to explain some uncomfortable details.” I told them the sequence of events from when I called Scarlett from the street down below her house and how the shot came while we were talking over the phone. I explained how I’d found her on the deck, still alive but just barely.
Street looked sick. “She was shot in the neck, and she was bleeding to death, but she was able to write you a note? My God, that is both terrible and heroic. That gives those words great meaning. Medic’s BFF.”
“Yeah. Sorry to burden you with the image. It’s not the stuff that makes
He wagged, then turned and looked back at Street’s front door.
A moment later came a brief, two-tap knock.
I walked over. Even though I was armed with a 170-pound Great Dane, I bent down to look out the peephole. I didn’t have a peephole at my cabin, but being at Street’s, especially after the forced entry the month before, brought the responsibility of minimizing any potential threat to her.
I saw a fish-eye picture of a handsome man with skin the color of hand-oiled teak beneath black hair. Spot was next to me as I opened the door. Diamond gave him a knuckle rub on his scalp. Spot wagged.
“Sorry if I’m interrupting amore with business,” he said.
Street came over and kissed Diamond on his cheek. “Vegetarian dinner isn’t quite the same as amore,” she said.
“If somebody like you cooked it for me, it would be.”
Street smiled. “What’s the business?”
Diamond gestured at me. “The tall gringo has the story.”
Street frowned. “If we’re going to be treated to a story, maybe you should get some wine out of this bottle, first.” She handed me a corkscrew.
I pulled the cork as she got out three glasses. I poured an inch for Street and three inches for me. I raised the bottle to pour Diamond’s and then paused and looked at him in his dress browns.
“Off duty twenty minutes ago,” he said. “I’ll change to my jean jacket in my patrol unit.”
I poured three inches for him.
That would give Street an hour’s worth of sipping and fifteen minutes each for Diamond and me.
So I told them about Scarlett Milo calling me and what had transpired. I finished with the shots at me, but explained, truthfully, that I wasn’t in much danger because it is nearly impossible to hit an unseen driver behind a dark windshield on a moving vehicle. I kept it like upscale journalism, just the facts about person, place, and time, and I finished by telling them what Scarlett had written on the note. I did not include any editorializing or gratuitous details about the shooting. Street was very alarmed, but she had been involved in enough of my cases to know that things can get messy and disturbing, and she probably filled in the blanks with a realistic idea of what actually happened. Diamond had a better idea of the reality, aided by the reports he’d already heard.
“Gut sense?” Diamond said.
I shook my head. “It’s obviously not a random event. Someone had targeted her, and she knew it in advance of the shooting. They probably targeted me simply because I’d been a witness of sorts to her shooting. Unfortunately, nothing she said and nothing we found other than the note she wrote gave us any indication of what caused someone to kill her. And the note is puzzling enough that it seems of no help.”
Diamond said, “I heard that the note said, ‘Medic’s BFF.’”
“Right. Like a medic’s Best Friend Forever. I made a copy.” I pulled the folded copy out of my pocket. “Who knows what that means? But it gives us something to look into.”
Diamond took the piece of paper and looked at it. Then he handed it to Street.
Street was frowning. “She wrote this before you got there? It doesn’t make sense. Why would someone write an inscrutable note? Unless it was just a reminder to herself?”
“I guess I need to explain some uncomfortable details.” I told them the sequence of events from when I called Scarlett from the street down below her house and how the shot came while we were talking over the phone. I explained how I’d found her on the deck, still alive but just barely.
Street looked sick. “She was shot in the neck, and she was bleeding to death, but she was able to write you a note? My God, that is both terrible and heroic. That gives those words great meaning. Medic’s BFF.”
“Yeah. Sorry to burden you with the image. It’s not the stuff that makes
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