Dead in Pleasant Company

He gripped my hand but hugged my sister, one of the few who get that privilege. Hell, I’ve known since we were all kids together how he feels about her and it’s only their cousinship that keeps him away. I suppose by this time you’re thinking I’m prejudiced where my twin is concerned. You may even go so far as to suggest I’m projecting when I tell you how men fall for her, but it’s just plain fact. She neither flirts nor teases, nor does she, as far as I can see, treat them in anyway special, yet around her men seem to feel it is good to be male. She doesn’t believe me when I tell her a sizable lot of guys, young and old, look at her as if she were a chocolate fudge sundae. I’ve made it a point not to tell her Cousin Andy is one of them. As I say, she wouldn’t believe me anyway and it would just force her to keep her distance from one of the few people she genuinely likes.

A little flushed from the hug, Sal sat as suggested and looked around. "Perhaps," she said smiling, "you need to look up the definition of ‘hole.’"

He had no trouble picking up the reference, ancient as it was. That quick intelligence too, he shares with Sal.

He laughed. "Just didn’t want to get you tax-payers in a tizzy. Actually," he included me in his smile briefly, "with all the personnel cut-backs, we actually have more suites like this available than ‘holes.’ I guess they decided to treat the old man to one of them." He smiled at us again. "I’m delighted to see you both," he said, carefully including me. "Sorry I missed Groundhog’s Day this year. Did you see me Mum there?"

Sal shook her head. "I didn’t. Ray drove her down for the lunch crowd then right back to New York for the eight o’clock curtain. I was on duty so I missed her, but I’m told she wowed all as usual. They appreciate that she doesn’t forget her roots."

"Yes, yes," another smile darted out and back. "Mustn’t forget the little people. Dines out on it for weeks, I’m sure. Gave me an earful though when I didn’t show. Well," he said, brushing both mother and Groundhog’s Day aside, "you’ve made yourself rather popular around here...bumping off our nation’s chief pain-in-the-rump. How’d you do it? Arsenic in the shoo-fly pie? My boss said to ask." He laughed.

I told him it warn’t funny. "Thur’s them as would like to put it on us."

"You’re not serious?"

"I am."

"I’ve heard a few thinly veiled hints of course. You’re saying there’s something to them then? Figured it was all media "hype."

I shrugged. "Unfortunately, in this case, the media has something to ‘hype’ about."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning the deceased met his Maker in one of our ‘stores’. Meaning he’d been our dinner guest that night, yet both of us were away from the table at the crucial moment...a fact which seems to have piqued the imagination of more than one idiot."

"I know better than ask this but I do anyway. Why, for heaven’s sake? What do they suggest for motive? You’re friends aren’t you?"

"Oh come now. You are the last guy to expect people to think reasonably. At the moment, the favored motive, one completely ground-less guess which has grown from theory to possibility to probability, is that he was there to write the long-awaited expose of the Thaxtons." I muttered under my breath. "One of these days the Thaxtons will have to do something awful just to make ourselves believable."

Sal threw me an undecipherable look. "You must admit though, Sam, there is a genuine mystery there."

"There is? Oh. You mean the how of the thing. Yes, that is strange." I looked at Andy. "What do you know of this peculiar method of killing someone? It’s new to us."

"Two pin-pricks at the base of the hairline?" He shook his head. "There has been nothing in our pipe-line here since it’s not our case. If it was two bullet holes now, we’d know where to look but pin-pricks? VICAP should have something."

"Doesn’t though. Sal’s checked that herself."

Andy looked from one to the other. "What is the official line?"

I shook my head. "Officially they’re mystified. They’re waiting on blood and tissue samples sent to Atlanta."

Andy frowned. "Be interesting to hear what they say. I’ll see what I can find on this end. What’s the unofficial version?"

I brushed at the crease in my trousers. "Ya puts down yer money an’ ya takes yer choice. Tunnelson’s sister is busily suggesting a variety of motives, all attributable to us and/or the restaurant. She’s suing us. Then there’s our chef, Barney Schantz. You remember that situation. Anyway, Schantz has put himself and us in it by disappearing, apparently taking Walt with him. There’s an APB out for both of them."

"For Walt too?" He looked at Sal. "You should have called --"

Sal said it was for his own protection. "According to Musselman anyway." To Andy’s questioning look she added, "Walt and Barney have become very friendly lately."

I went on. "Officially they’re keeping Walt out of it for now but when it gets out, they may not be able to. Then too, Sal’s position on the force makes the word ‘cover-up’ inevitable. Add fuel to the ever present suggestion that the cops are playing favorites because we’re Thaxtons."

"Not too much we can do about that," Andy said. "It’s one of those when-did-you-stop-beating-your-wife, things. Why are they looking for your chef? After all, that was all in the forgotten past."

"Not any more," I said. "I’m afraid Barney himself resurrected it by shooting off his mouth when he learned Tunnelson was in the restaurant that night. Said something that could be taken as threatening."

"Not very smart of him," Andy said mildly. "I hope that’s all."

"Not quite." I grimaced. "We’re wondering if perhaps Tunnelson and we have a mutual enemy, someone who decided to kill two birds with one stone by killing him in our store."

He swept us again with a quick glance. "Cedar River Gambling for instance."

I nodded. "For one, yes."

"I don’t imagine," he grunted, "there is any dearth of others who are just as glad Tunnelson’s no longer around. Is the PPD looking around? I don’t think they’ve called on us for help or I would’ve heard. Somebody ought to -- "