returned Lea.
Nick grimaced. Partner was not what he wanted to be called by Lea Fox. In fact, he didn’t want to be called anything by her at all.
Chapter 7
Saturday, 9:30 am
Twenty minutes later and immersed in the coroner’s report at Millie’s Coffee Shop, the strange report only generated more questions. They had ended up taking both their vehicles, since Fox refused to ride in his Mustang. It was for the best since it enabled Nick to blast Bruce Springsteen as he followed her little silver Mazda to the diner. Nick had already downed a double coffee laced with milk and sugar while the finicky Fox made poor Chastity go back three times to make sure that her hot chocolate was done just right. The first drink placed before her had obviously not been made with milk so it was sent back. On the second try, the milk wasn’t hot enough, and Lea returned it as well; the comely waitress looking ready to spit nails. The third time, after the hot chocolate was slammed down in front of her, it spilled a bit of the hot milky liquid upon the table.
“There’s too much whipped cream.”
Nick blurted out, “Thank you so much, Chastity. That’s just lovely.”
The comely waitress whipped about, the white tails of her apron slapping across the rear of her well-filled out saffron uniform.
“She didn’t give me a spoon,” complained Lea.
“I’m surprised she didn’t dump it all over your head,” muttered Nick, hoping that Chastity would have calmed down a bit when he called her later. Lea growled under her breath, and grabbing Nick’s coffee spoon, stirred the whipped cream violently into the hot chocolate.
Nick read while she viciously stirred. “Dr. Koh must have stayed up all night for this. The contents of the ex-mayor’s stomach indicated that he’d consumed a culinary feast before his death. Not only was there the beef stroganoff but traces of brandy, vodka, and a French Bordeaux wine. Thad had also sampled chocolate mousse, some type of a green bean and almond salad with saffron rice and portabella mushrooms… and that was just for dinner. “
“He didn’t become beastly fat on salad, Thayne.” She’d removed the tiny computer and placed it upon the desk to take notes after vigorously wiping up Chastity’s spill with both their paper napkins.
“All right, Fox, my curiosity’s pricked. What is it?”
“I beg your pardon?”
Nick frowned. “That little contraption you always whip out.”
“Oh . . . that.” She grinned, almost looking pretty. “It’s my version of the detective’s little black book. My dad had a small book where he wrote all his notes. The only problem was no one could decipher a line because of his hideous shorthand. So, I developed the Fox and Hound notebook.” She thrust the little laptop towards him.
He studied the keys and laughed aloud. “This is unbelievable. You’ve got keys that state motive, witnesses, C/S . . . what’s that?”
“Crime scene.”
“That makes sense. Hum . . . evidence, suspects, numbers, priors. I get a sense of how this works, but explain it further to me.”
“Okay. I designed it to give me shortcuts. If you press Crime Scene , I can draw the scene with my attached stylus here. There’s a scale on top to make sure everything’s accurate. I have a port to my digital camera and can take instant color photographs of whatever.” She fished around her big bag and produced a tiny digital camera.
“Definitely a woman’s toy. That thing’s not much bigger than a micro-cassette.”
“Serves the purpose. Now, when I punch in the category S uspects , this profile sheet comes up.”
Nick gasped. A grainy photo popped up on the screen. “I can’t believe it. That’s . . .”
“Luke Cambridge, of course. Read the template.”
Within sixty seconds, he’d read an abbreviated but complete rundown on the incarcerated felon.
“But this is even neater,” she continued. Fox pressed the motive key.
Nick grimaced. Partner was not what he wanted to be called by Lea Fox. In fact, he didn’t want to be called anything by her at all.
Chapter 7
Saturday, 9:30 am
Twenty minutes later and immersed in the coroner’s report at Millie’s Coffee Shop, the strange report only generated more questions. They had ended up taking both their vehicles, since Fox refused to ride in his Mustang. It was for the best since it enabled Nick to blast Bruce Springsteen as he followed her little silver Mazda to the diner. Nick had already downed a double coffee laced with milk and sugar while the finicky Fox made poor Chastity go back three times to make sure that her hot chocolate was done just right. The first drink placed before her had obviously not been made with milk so it was sent back. On the second try, the milk wasn’t hot enough, and Lea returned it as well; the comely waitress looking ready to spit nails. The third time, after the hot chocolate was slammed down in front of her, it spilled a bit of the hot milky liquid upon the table.
“There’s too much whipped cream.”
Nick blurted out, “Thank you so much, Chastity. That’s just lovely.”
The comely waitress whipped about, the white tails of her apron slapping across the rear of her well-filled out saffron uniform.
“She didn’t give me a spoon,” complained Lea.
“I’m surprised she didn’t dump it all over your head,” muttered Nick, hoping that Chastity would have calmed down a bit when he called her later. Lea growled under her breath, and grabbing Nick’s coffee spoon, stirred the whipped cream violently into the hot chocolate.
Nick read while she viciously stirred. “Dr. Koh must have stayed up all night for this. The contents of the ex-mayor’s stomach indicated that he’d consumed a culinary feast before his death. Not only was there the beef stroganoff but traces of brandy, vodka, and a French Bordeaux wine. Thad had also sampled chocolate mousse, some type of a green bean and almond salad with saffron rice and portabella mushrooms… and that was just for dinner. “
“He didn’t become beastly fat on salad, Thayne.” She’d removed the tiny computer and placed it upon the desk to take notes after vigorously wiping up Chastity’s spill with both their paper napkins.
“All right, Fox, my curiosity’s pricked. What is it?”
“I beg your pardon?”
Nick frowned. “That little contraption you always whip out.”
“Oh . . . that.” She grinned, almost looking pretty. “It’s my version of the detective’s little black book. My dad had a small book where he wrote all his notes. The only problem was no one could decipher a line because of his hideous shorthand. So, I developed the Fox and Hound notebook.” She thrust the little laptop towards him.
He studied the keys and laughed aloud. “This is unbelievable. You’ve got keys that state motive, witnesses, C/S . . . what’s that?”
“Crime scene.”
“That makes sense. Hum . . . evidence, suspects, numbers, priors. I get a sense of how this works, but explain it further to me.”
“Okay. I designed it to give me shortcuts. If you press Crime Scene , I can draw the scene with my attached stylus here. There’s a scale on top to make sure everything’s accurate. I have a port to my digital camera and can take instant color photographs of whatever.” She fished around her big bag and produced a tiny digital camera.
“Definitely a woman’s toy. That thing’s not much bigger than a micro-cassette.”
“Serves the purpose. Now, when I punch in the category S uspects , this profile sheet comes up.”
Nick gasped. A grainy photo popped up on the screen. “I can’t believe it. That’s . . .”
“Luke Cambridge, of course. Read the template.”
Within sixty seconds, he’d read an abbreviated but complete rundown on the incarcerated felon.
“But this is even neater,” she continued. Fox pressed the motive key.
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