Bouncer (30 page)

BOOK: Bouncer

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“I’d sooner drop dead,” summarized Lea. “You know, I had this last case all figured out, and then he waltzes in, and to everyone else, it appears like he solved the blasted thing. I knew that Edith Simms killed Thad Fisher and Connie Judson, but who gets all the credit? Him! It was plain as the nose on your face that the old lady was demented.”

“And who was all lined up for Mrs. Simms’ finger brigade? And to think, you still got half the paycheck!” shouted Nick. “By all rights, I should demand half of the money back!”

The two continued to squabble loudly, Steven’s head following the pair as if he were watching Wimbledon. Philemon shifted his glance towards Roger and downed his drink. Man, that cognac was smooth.

“I think it’s all going to work out, don’t you? I do believe, however, that they just might need a referee appointed by the Lord.”

“They might at that, Philemon,” returned Roger delightedly.

After five minutes, it was clear there wasn’t going to be any sort of truce, so Roger turned to the last ace up his sleeve. He ducked into the arched hallway and returned with Nick’s sketch depicting that final, fateful night of Lane and Jeremy Fox. He tossed it nonchalantly upon the dining room table.

Fox went deathly silent as Nick gazed furiously at his friend.

“What the hell, Roger!”

“Where’d you get this?” whispered Lea.

No one answered.

She repeated more loudly. “Where did you
get
this?”

Steven’s eyes amazingly filled with tears as Thayne took a fiery gulp of the expensive cognac before answering, “I drew it.”

The silence was deafening. She finally said, “You drew this?”

“That’s right.”

Fox clenched the bottom of the frayed avocado sweater, her mouth twitching uncontrollably.

Philemon examined the drawing. It was damn fine work, though a bit macabre for his taste. He just wished he understood the emotional nuances produced by the terrible scene. Steven refused to look at the picture, instead studying first Lea, then Nick before casting a belligerent glance at his brother-in-law.

No one expected her next question. “You’d consider reopening this case, Roger?”

“It should have never been closed.”

Fox turned abruptly to Thayne. “I don’t understand your little
gift
, and I’m not sure I want to. But all I know is that I can’t sleep at night until I figure out why they were killed.
And
I can’t get any consistent answers from
anybody
. Everywhere I turn, it’s a dead end. That fat man in the left hand corner being highly entertained by my family’s murder . . . You’re positive he was present that night?”

“Yes,” said Nick shortly.

Her long pause was significant. Finally she said, “Well. I’m not changing the name of my agency.”

“Wait a minute. You expect me to work for Fox Investigative Services like some sort of lackey while you remain in charge?”

“That’s right. Since my father’s death, I’ve been the only boss of Fox Investigative Services and will remain so.”

“Like hell you will.”

“What!” She rose to her full 5’2” inches in height. “You expect me to change the agency’s name to Thayne’s Private Investigations or something and work for you?”

“It’s a fine name.”

“Well, not for me!”

Steven set down his crystal snifter and frowned menacingly at his brother-in-law before stalking out of the house. The other two immensely satisfied men observed the tiny woman and handsome man argue unceasingly for a couple more minutes before rising to slip unnoticed out the front door. Both of them had devoted wives to return to.

“I’ll be seeing you, then,” promised Philemon, placing his baseball cap firmly over his graying head. It had turned out to be a fine sunny afternoon.

“I certainly hope so,” said Roger, touching a creamy pink rosebud blooming outside of Fox’s front door, the petals still damp from its early morning watering. “I
certainly
hope so.”

The End

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