Absolutely, Positively

logic applies to his use of a car to try to run us off the road. It doesn't fit.”

    Molly reached out to touch his arm. “Now, hold on here. The blue Ford belonged to Kendall. You said your investigator, Mr. Rice, verified that it was registered to him.”

    “Yes.”

    “So it's only logical to assume that it was Kendall at the wheel the other day when that same Ford tried to run us off the road.”

    “Someone else could have used Kendall's car to try to kill us.”

    “But no one else has any reason to kill us.”

    “So far as we know.” Harry looked out into the darkness beyond the windows. “I've been lying here wondering if someone else is involved in this.”

    Molly pulled the bedclothes up to her throat. “All right, let's assume for the moment that there is another person involved. What's his or her motive? We decided Kendall was out for revenge because I turned down his grant proposal.”

    “It was a logical assumption.” Harry pushed aside the covers and got out of bed. “But what if there was another person with another motive?”

    Molly watched him as he started to pace the room in front of the bank of windows. She could feel the intensity pooling within him as he focused on the problem at hand. Harry was nude except for a pair of white briefs that hugged his strongly muscled flanks. There was an eerie, spectral quality about him as he moved in and out of the moonlight.

    “What other person?” she asked gently. “And what other motive could there possibly be? I've turned down approximately a hundred grant proposals. I suppose we could be dealing with more than one disgruntled grant applicant. But it seems a little unlikely that we'd have two homicidal inventors in the batch.”

“Who knows?” Harry paced through a shaft of cold, silver light and on into the deep shadow at the far end of the room.

    “It would also imply,” Molly continued, thinking through the obvious logic, “that at some point Kendall and this other mystery inventor worked together on their little terrorist project.”

    “Or it could mean that someone else knew about Kendall's desire for revenge and used it as camouflage for himself.”

    “Good lord.” Molly drew up her knees and wrapped her arms around them. “Are you saying that another, more vicious individual who actually wants to kill me knew that Kendall was angry? And set him up to take the rap once I was dead?”

    “There's a certain logic to it.” Harry reached the bookcase, turned, and retraced his path toward the opposite end of the room. The force of his concentration was so powerful that it seemed to charge the atmosphere around him.

    “I don't know,” Molly said doubtfully. “It's awfully farfetched. Chances are that, with Kendall dead, the whole thing really is finished, just as Fergus Rice said.”

    Harry came to a halt in front of the windows. “It doesn't feel finished, Molly.”

    She smiled slightly. “Then you'll have to do something about it, won't you? If you don't, neither of us will ever get any sleep.”

    He looked at her, his eyes bleak. “It's beginning to look that way.”

    “Any ideas?”

    “It might help if I could examine something else that belonged to Kendall,” Harry said slowly. “It might give me a fix on whether or not I'm right about his preference for inventing his own weapons.”

    “It occurs to me that, if there is someone else involved in this mess, Kendall's recent demise might not have been an accident.”

    “Hell.” Icy moonlight turned Harry's face to stone. “You're right. I've been concentrating so much on the possibility that there are two people involved that I didn't consider all the implications. If Kendall had a partner, or if he was being used as a fall guy by someone else, that second person might have gotten rid of him because he had become a liability.”

    “This is getting very complicated, not to mention nasty.”

    Harry swung away from the window. “I need to get a look at that blue Ford. Rice can find out where it was taken after the crash.”

    “It's after one in the morning. Fergus Rice will be sound asleep. He won't be able to do anything at this hour.” Molly yawned. “Why don't you come back to bed?”

    “I'm in no mood to sleep.”

    She gave him a smugly angelic smile. “In that case, perhaps we could discuss a few of your significant clinical abnormalities.”

    Harry, who was halfway across the room, en route to the telephone, spun around. There