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Crouching Buzzard, Leaping Loon(18)

By:Donna Andrews


“Imagine that Lawyers from Hell is a food,” I suggested. “Some special dessert. And no one can make it but us. Unless, of course, they know all the ingredients, including the top secret sauce, and every detail of the recipe, in which case, not only can they make it just as well as we can, but even we can’t tell the difference.”

“Yeah, that sort of explains it,” Frankie said, appearing over the partition top again.

    Sort of explains it? I thought it was a pretty damned brilliant analogy, myself.

“So this naked lawyer thing is an inside job,” the chief said. “You think it might have something to do with Corrigan’s death?”

    Frank, Jack, and I looked at each other. Frankie shrugged. Jack shook his head.

“Good question,” I said. Obviously the chief thought it might, or he wouldn’t be wasting time on it.

“There’s a rumor going around that when they figure out who did the naked version, they’re going to can him,” Frankie said.

“Well, that’s interesting,” the chief said.

“If they figure it out,” I said.

“It’ll come out, sooner or later,” Jack said, shaking his head.

“Maybe,” I said. “But I don’t think whoever did it is going to step forward with a rumor like that going around.”

“So you think maybe the nude programmer killed to keep Ted from revealing his secret?” Frankie exclaimed. “Whoa!”

“Keep it to yourself, will you?” the chief said. “Was there something you wanted?”

“It’s really hot outside, and we were just wondering if you knew how much longer we all have to stay down there in - “

“No,” the chief said. “When I know, I’ll tell you. Now scoot.”

    Frankie nodded and left. Jack took this as a signal to make his own exit.

“He won’t, you know,” I said. “Keep it to himself, I mean.”

“No, I don’t expect he will,” the chief agreed. “What do you think?”

“I think he’s already blabbing down in the parking lot.”

“I meant what do you think about this nude program having something to do with the murder?”

“Since we don’t know who programmed Nude Lawyers from Hell or what, if any, connection there is between it and Ted - who knows?”

“Someone thinks he’s going to get fired - that could be a reason to kill in this job market.”

“Yeah, except that anyone who really knows Rob knows better,” I said.

“Knows better how?”

“I doubt if Rob wants to fire whoever programmed the nude version,” I said. “He thinks it’s a hoot. He could sit there for hours watching it and giggling.”

“Might change his mind if it starts hurting his company,” the chief said.

“Maybe,” I said. “Then again, Rob’s not too practical.”

“So let ‘em all blab about the naked cartoon characters having something to do with the murder,” the chief said. “If it’s true, maybe our killer will get scared and do something stupid. If it’s not true, maybe he’ll think he’s gotten away with it and get careless.”

    He stared at the screen on which the Lawyers from Hell demo was still running. After about a minute, he shook his head and roused himself.

“How the hell do you stop this fool thing, anyway?”

    I reached over and pressed the escape key to exit the demo.

“Thanks,” he said. “Why don’t you come down with me to the parking lot?”

    I suspected that meant he was through picking my brains for now and wanted to deposit me safely with all the other suspects, witnesses, and seemingly innocent bystanders.

    Down in the parking lot, chaos reigned.

    August isn’t a month when you want to spend much time outdoors in Virginia. The temperature and humidity were both hovering in the high nineties, and would probably stay that way until the daily thunderstorm hit in the late afternoon. Walking out the door was like entering a steam bath when you already had a high fever. I could feel my feet sinking slightly into the liquefying asphalt, not to mention the first breath of almost liquid air starting to leach away my wits and my temper.

    An ambulance was parked in the handicapped space right beside the building entrance, but nobody seemed to be paying any attention to it. I could see a dozen programmers or therapists talking on their cell phones, most with their heads cocked toward their phones, backs to the crowd and their free hands over their unoccupied ears. Several others were playing Frisbee with the eight or nine dogs who’d come to work today. Or trying to play. The dogs were mostly lying in the shade, panting, and watching the crazy humans leaping, about on the hot asphalt.