The Marsh Madness

Castellano strode through the door almost the second that Sammy Vincovic opened it. He smiled at her. It was the smile of man who is very, very impressed by a woman. “Welcome back, Detective.”


She pointedly ignored him and took the best seat in the house again. I must say, the desk suited her as much as her outfit did. Bad Cat reached out and took a swipe at the boots as she passed. I didn’t blame him. Good Bad Cat.

Stoddard slouched into the room and leaned against the wall, with his hands in his pockets. I half expected him to whistle a carefree tune.

Good Cat—not such an able judge of character—jumped into Castellano’s lap. The resulting shriek was very amusing for Stoddard. He had to turn his face away to get that grin under control. Castellano might have shot him otherwise. Sammy, on the other hand, rushed forward to help and, one assumes, brush the cat hair from her skirt.

“Back off,” she said.

Sammy raised his hands in mock surrender. Good Cat leapt away and settled on the fainting couch, his back now turned to Castellano.

Bad Cat took the opportunity to give it another try. He crept behind the desk. At the end of Castellano’s high leather boots he found some quite expensive hose that went perfectly with the caramel suit. It was only a matter of time until Bad Cat hooked his claws into those. If Castellano was in a bad mood now, I could only imagine what she’d be like if her fifty-dollar stockings were ruined.

I said, out of complete self-interest, “The cat that jumped on your lap is the friendly cat. The other that’s aiming for your leg now, and I mean right now, might scratch or bite. Better let me take care of him.”

“You stay where you are. I’m not worried about any cat. That jumpy one took me by surprise, is all.”

I figured she was in for more surprises, but hey.

Sammy said, “I’ll keep an eye on the cats.”

I reminded myself he was on my side, even if he did seem to be more impressed with Castellano by the second.

From the look on her face, Castellano did not think that Sammy Vincovic was any kind of heartthrob. More like some kind of bug she’d like to stamp on.

Sammy’s smile widened as he watched her. It had definitely reached his wily black eyes.

“Stop grinning,” she said.

It would have taken more than that.

“Detective Castellano, you’re grasping at straws here,” he said—much like I might have said, “Lemon blueberry cheesecake, two slices, please.”

“I don’t think so, Counselor.” Her eyes hardened and she shot me a look.

I sat up straighter.

“Think again. My client has answered all your questions and given you a statement. She was in Summerlea. Her fingerprints will be there, as will dozens of others. I am assuming you are interrogating everyone. She and her employer agree on the circumstances. Chadwick Kauffman was alive when they left. There was no reason to kill him.”

“She was seen leaving—”

“So was the guy with the delivery van. I assume you’ve got him in a room somewhere and you’ve taken his fingerprints and his statement and are still giving him a hard time.”

“If there was a driver. None of you seem to have noticed the company name.”

“There was a driver! We saw him.”

“We have only your word for that.”

“What about the people walking on the road?”

She lifted her shoulders in a bored shrug.

Sammy’d had enough. Or he was worried I’d go and blow it. He said, “Either charge my client or let her go about her day. We’re through here.”

I gave an involuntary gasp. Charge me? I didn’t mind Sammy playing chicken with Detective Castellano, but really, charge me?

Castellano said, “We’ve applied for a warrant to search the house.”

Sammy shrugged his meaty shoulders. “You want a warrant to search Vera Van Alst’s home? Good luck with that.”

Ooh. Vera might not have been the sunniest of characters, but, hated or not, she was still influential in Harrison Falls and she sat on the hospital board with at least one judge. Sammy was right. They’d have to make it good.