Crouching Buzzard, Leaping Loon by Donna Andrews Page A

your Dad than you like to admit,“ Jack said with a chuckle. „You sound almost pleased to have been a suspect, however briefly.“
    „That's not it,“ I said. „I just want to believe that they know what they're doing. And maybe enough of a feminist that I don't want to be overlooked just because I'm a woman. If it weren't for my hand, I could have strangled him just as easily as any man here. More easily than most, in fact. I'm pretty strong.“
    „So the chief took you seriously and you're happy.“
    „I'd be happier if Rob weren't the only one being investigated.“
    „You're sure?“
    „Except Ted, of course,“ I said. „They do seem to be paying a little attention to Ted.“
    „But not a lot,“ Jack said. „Or they'd be spending a lot more time talking to my team.“
    „At least they're not interfering with your team's work.“
    „What work?“ he said, shaking his head. „Everyone just wants to stand around talking about the murder. I think what happened didn't really sink in for some of them till today.“
    Jack returned to Cubeville. I noticed, when he left, that the place where he'd been leaning was showing signs of wear already, after only a week. Not so much from Jack leaning there, although he'd been doing that alarmingly often, but from everyone else imitating him. His other favorite leaning spots were also getting heavy use. Though why the wannabes bothered I didn't know. When Jack propped himself against a wall,tucked his chin in, and gazed at you from under his brow, he looked cool. And, yes, sexy. When the wannabes did it, they just looked as if they were imitating George. And large sections of the walls were starting to acquire that well-worn patina you usually see on the bottom foot or so of protruding corners in houses with large quantities of cats.
    I went back to fielding calls. Including another call from Rob.
    At least Rob wasn't hanging about waiting for me to reveal the murderer. He was home – if you could call the Pines home. And to judge by his tone of voice when he called, which he did about every five minutes or so, he was in a remarkably cheerful mood for someone around whom the net of a homicide investigation was slowly but inexorably closing.
    Probably because he was the center of a whirlwind of attention. Apparently, Mother had put the word out on the Hollingworth grapevine that her baby boy was in dire legal peril, and every attorney in the family had called him once or twice already. The criminal attorneys, of course, wanted to drop everything and fly to Rob's aid, while the prosecutors offered sage advice about how best to deal with their colleagues in Caerphilly. The far more numerous civil attorneys, frustrated at being denied a major role in the ongoing drama, all offered to come down and take Rob out to dinner. I foresaw good times ahead for Caerphilly's more expensive eateries.
    I wondered how long the local defense attorney I'd found would put up with the family interference. But I'd let Rob worry about that. Coping with the avalanche of attention seemed to occupy Rob's time rather fully, but it looked as if Mutant Wizards was carrying on just fine. In fact, did Jack look a little relieved not to have Rob underfoot?
    Ah well. As long as Rob was happy. And he was happy. Deliriously, relentlessly happy, which struck me as odd; usually the only time he was this happy was when he thought he'd fallen in love again. Strange that he would react this way to falling under suspicion.
    Or maybe not so strange, I realized, the fifth or sixth time he called to have me hunt down Liz. It dawned on me that he probably didn't realize that Liz's appearance at the police station had been motivated by her sense of corporate responsibility combined with my arm-twisting. He seemed to think she had rushed to his side for personal reasons. Well, he could do much worse. And often had. It had been a long time since Rob had fallen for anyone sane and likeable.
    I wondered what Dad was up to