Shadows Everywhere by John Lutz Page B

visible through the open loading door. Both men had dropped from the dock. Day struggled awkwardly to his feet, fell, dragged himself to the doorway.
    They'd closed the trunk. Costa was already inside the car, on the passenger's side, and Grindle was just opening the door to get behind the wheel. Day aimed carefully and squeezed off two shots. Grindle fell without a sound, into the limp posture of a dead man.
    Day saw Costa shooting frantically across the seat to get behind the wheel of the idling car and tried to aim the revolver again, but the gun was too heavy. The barrel wavered and dropped, and a reddish darkness enveloped Day as the car sped away and turned east. In the instant before his death Day saw that the left rear wheel had passed over the gun in Grindle's lifeless hand.
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    "I t doesn't make sense," Captain Harold Weston said, looking down at Day's body.
    The detective standing next to him nodded in agreement.
    Captain Weston continued to look down at Day, a puzzled concern in his dark eyes. "He was a good, honest cop, one of the best, and with a future in the department. Then, bang, he goes bad all of a sudden!" Captain Weston shook his head slowly, like a man who has bet and lost. "I just don't understand it..."
    "Probably nobody could explain it to you but Lieutenant Day," the detective said.
    "Probably not," the captain agreed. "But what I can't understand is how he went bad in so short a time. All these years, not a black mark on his record...then all of a sudden this. They fool you sometimes, I guess...and fool themselves."

LIVING ALL ALONE
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    M iss Simms looked at the house and considered the possibilities. It was a small frame house in a very scenic country setting, in a flat green clearing almost surrounded by tall sycamores. Behind the house was a small, peaceful looking pond, still and green.
    "I'll take it," Miss Simms said with decision.
    "All right," Mr. Blacker, the surprised owner, said. "The, uh, price–“
    "The price is fair," Miss Simms said in her clear, high voice.
    "I don't advise it," her Uncle Dan said. "Why, a woman like you, all alone way out here. Ain't another neighbor in sight."
    Mr. Blacker looked at Uncle Dan with faintly disguised irritation. "Will be, though," he said. "Mile or so down the road some contractor's puttin' in five houses."
    Miss Simms stood calmly as Uncle Dan turned to look at her, his gray mustache seeming to droop more than usual. "A mile away, he said, Marybelle. Now, why do you want to live alone, anyway, much less as alone as this? You can stay with Grace an' me, an' you know it."
    "I know, Uncle Dan, but this is a beautiful house. I've lived with Mother so long, took care of her for over fifteen years, and now I think I'd like to try living alone."
    Mr. Blacker's blue eyes squinted in his seamed face as he watched Miss Simms. Though he wanted to sell the house, he had to agree with her uncle. She was, he judged, in her mid-forties, a spinster who would still be attractive to many men. The formless print dress did little to hide her still rounded and firm figure, and her graying blonde hair still caught the sunlight as it hung below her shoulders.
    Uncle Dan sighed surrender. "I hope you know what you're doin', Marybelle. You've led somethin' of a protected life, and I don't think you realize the dangers to a woman like you who lives alone in an isolated spot."
    Miss Simms smiled a slight smile. "A woman like me?"
    "Yes," Uncle Dan said, embarrassed by her direct, questioning stare. "I mean to say, you're still an attractive woman, an' the wrong kinds of men are liable to get ideas."
    "For the last fifteen years, Uncle Dan, I've been able to take care of both Mother and myself. I think taking care of just myself should be easier than the task I've completed."
    Uncle Dan hooked his sausage-like thumbs into his belt. "Well, I'll help you all I can, Marybelle, with buyin' the place an' movin' in an' all."
    Miss Simms' delicate face broke into a