Some Like It Hawk(90)

“Not the cat show, surely.”

She shook her head.

“Someone pretending to be General Washington is inspecting a bunch of reenactors dressed up as Revolutionary War soldiers.” Her voice was flat and joyless. “And then I’m supposed to interview a whole bunch of people becoming citizens. I’m sure they’ve selected a picturesquely diverse bunch with heartwarming stories. Back to the human interest beat.”

“Just because it’s human interest doesn’t mean it has to be cute, you know,” I said. “And General Washington and his citizen army still seem pretty fascinating to me. Don’t just assume it’s fluff. Find the meat. Run with it.”

She blinked for a moment, then smiled.

“I’ll try,” she said. “Sorry I can’t stay around to help. Not that I’ve been much help. I really only found out one new bit of information, and that’s probably pretty useless.”

“You never know,” I said. “What is it?”

“The paper’s been trying to get a comment on the murder from your ex-mayor,” she said. “And so far we haven’t been able to track him down.”

“He’s in Cancún,” I said.

“Actually, he’s not,” she replied. “We have a couple of stringers in Mexico. One of them was actually in Cancún on another story, so my editor sicced her on him. He was there earlier, but the Thursday before Memorial Day he packed up and left.”

“Does she know where he went?”

“Yes, she bribed a ticket agent to find out. He caught the seven-fifteen a.m. American Airlines flight to Dallas with a connecting flight from there to DCA.”

My mouth fell open.

“He could be here!” I exclaimed.

“Do you think he’s the killer?” she asked.

I reminded myself that however helpful she was being, she was still a reporter.

“No idea,” I said. “But I’m sure a lot of people will be very interested in finding out where he was yesterday. Thanks.”

“Anyway,” she said. “I’m going to grab my stuff and head out. You’ll let me know if that story breaks?”

I nodded and took the business card she offered. She continued down the hall to the room we’d given her.

I peeked into the nursery. Both boys were sleeping peacefully. In our room, Michael had fallen asleep with a red pencil in one hand and a draft copy of a student’s dissertation in the other. I eased both out of his hands and turned out the light.

Then I went downstairs and puttered about until Kate came down, purse and tote in hand, and said good-bye. After locking the front door behind her, I slipped into the kitchen, poured myself a glass of milk, and called the chief.

“Good news,” I said. “Stanley Denton is safe, and sound, and locked in one of our third floor bedrooms. And while it’s always possible he’s the killer you’re looking for, I have an interesting new suspect for you.”

I filled him in on Denton’s arrival at the tent, and what I’d learned from Denton and from the reporter.

When I’d finished, he remained silent for a few moments.

“Any marching orders?” I asked.

“How early will you be up?” he asked.

“We have toddlers,” I said. “If I’m not up at dawn, Michael or Eric will be. I’ll put the key to Denton’s room in my bedside drawer. Michael can give it to you.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” he said. “And thanks.”

I glanced at the clock. Nearly one. The boys were always up by seven, and sometimes six, and try as I might I had a hard time going back to sleep once I knew they were up. Five, maybe six hours if I dozed off immediately, and while I was physically exhausted, my mind was restless and I was afraid I’d toss and turn until daybreak.

I crept upstairs as quietly as I could, slipped into bed, and lay there for a while, breathing as slowly and deeply as I could, and consciously letting go of the day’s events.

Which were already yesterday’s events. For some reason I found that fact curiously soothing.





Chapter 35




The fireworks woke me shortly after dawn.

“I’m sure they didn’t sign the Declaration of Independence until the afternoon of the fourth,” I muttered, when Michael tiptoed in to fetch the key to Denton’s room.

“Actually, the majority of them didn’t sign it on the fourth at all,” he said. “Most of the signers weren’t in Philadelphia at the time, so they sent the document around to them over the course of the next month.”

“It’s too early in the morning for cold, hard facts,” I said, as I pulled both pillows over my head. “Let me go back to sleep with my historical illusions intact.”