File M For Murder

Laura looked at me, lovely even after crying, and my heart melted. “Sweetheart, I’m so sorry that you have to know about such vulgar things. You had no idea about any of this, did you?”

“No, Daddy, I didn’t.” She shrugged, her expression a mixture of puzzlement and sadness. “He could be an ass sometimes, but never anything like this with me. He could be really cutting with things he said, but it was only here in Athena that I saw him turn really nasty.”

“You probably brought out the best in him. Around you, at least for a while, he tried to be a better person. I’d like to think that anyway.” I leaned forward and grasped one of her hands. Her fingers curled around mine and held tight for a moment.

“Poor Damitra.” Laura sighed. “I can’t be too irritated with her now, even though she’s a giant pain most of the time. I had no idea she was being treated like that. Men are such pigs, sometimes.” She smiled briefly at Sean and me in turn. “With certain exceptions, thankfully.” She drained her cup and rose from the table. “I think I’ll have more tea. When are we going to eat? I’m starving.”

By now it was almost six o’clock, and I discovered that I too was hungry. “Let me see what our options are.” I went to the fridge and checked inside. Azalea generally kept us supplied with casseroles and other ready-made meals, and I found a large dish labeled CKN SPCH that I translated as a chicken and spinach dish.

I announced my find, and both Laura and Sean agreed that sounded fine. Into the oven it went to heat while I prepared a salad. Sean started a fresh pitcher of iced tea—one of the best kitchen gadgets I ever bought was an iced tea maker—and we sat down to a hearty meal twenty minutes later.

While we ate I kept a covert watch on Laura. She was quieter than usual, and I knew the revelations about Connor Lawton’s true character had bothered her. She caught me a couple of times and offered what I considered a brave smile each time. If she wanted to talk, I would be ready, but I figured she would need some time to herself to process everything.

Stewart and Dante appeared as we were finishing, and Diesel greeted his playmate with a plaintive warble. Dante bounced up and down around the much larger cat, whimpering and emitting the occasional short bark. As the humans watched with bemused smiles, Diesel placed one of his paws on the dog’s back and pushed him down. Dante knew who the alpha was and submitted meekly.

Laura excused herself, pleading tiredness, and after Sean and I both gave her quick hugs, she departed upstairs. Diesel came to me and warbled a couple of times before he turned and followed Laura. I knew he was telling me he would take good care of my daughter.

Sean and I sat with Stewart as he consumed the remains of the casserole and the salad. I pretended not to notice when he slipped tidbits of chicken to Dante. The dog would have turned into a complete butterball by now, the way Stewart fed him from the table, if it weren’t for the vigorous exercise he got playing with Diesel in the backyard at least twice a day.

We filled Stewart in on the latest developments, and he was properly horrified over the attack on Laura. “When you find out who was responsible, let me know,” he said, his face darkened by anger. “I’ll help beat the crap out of the jerk.”

Sean grinned and said, “It’s a deal.”

Not long after that I decided I was ready to go upstairs and try to relax. I probably should have read more of the files from Lawton’s thumb drive, but I was too tired. This had been a long and difficult day, and my headache had come back with a vengeance.

Upstairs I took some aspirin and got ready for bed. I tried to read for a few minutes, but I found it difficult to concentrate. I put the book aside and turned out the light.

Sometimes when I’m really tired, my mind fixes itself into a seemingly endless loop, and I have trouble going to sleep. I figured tonight might be that way because of all the stress of the day. But I soon drifted off.

I awoke sometime later to the sound of an alarm and the smell of smoke.

TWENTY-EIGHT

Three nerve-wracking, exhausting hours later, I sat in the kitchen with my family, both two- and four-legged, to take stock of our situation.

“I’ll never complain about your filthy habit, ever again.” Laura cast a tired but fond glance at her brother.

“Same here, I think.” I suppressed a yawn. “We’re incredibly lucky you happened to be on the back porch. The damage could have been so much worse.” Diesel meowed and rubbed against my thigh. I scratched his head to reassure him. The noise and excitement tonight had frightened him badly.

“I just wish I’d caught the bastard.” Sean, fatigue obvious in his expression and posture, frowned.

“At least you scared him off before he could set more fires.” Stewart shivered and clutched Dante closer to his chest. The dog whimpered and tried to lick Stewart’s chin.