Bitter Sweets

“It’s about the colonel.”

    He nodded. “I thought it might be.”

    CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

    “ Earl Mallock murdered Lisa, just like we thought,” Savannah told Dirk, who had pulled on a pair of jeans in honor of the occasion. “And Colonel Neilson killed him...‘executed’ him, is the way he put it.”

    Dirk leaned forward on the sofa, acutely interested. “He actually confessed to you?”

    “Yes, there in his house, just before he had the hesrt attack.”

    He nodded thoughtfully. “A confession. Now that’s something I didn’t have.”

    “What do you mean? You didn’t know it was the colonel!”

    “I did after I had the lab run an overnight ballistics check on that Colt .45 of his. It matches the bullet that killed Mallock. I wonder why he didn’t get rid of it?”

    “He said he took it out to the end of the pier and was going to toss it. But he couldn’t.”

    “Understandable.”

    They sat quietly for a moment, and Savannah’s ire began to rise. “Okay...so you’ve got the gun, but you don’t know about the piano wire, smart aleck.”

    “The one missing from Neilson’s baby grand? Oh, yeah. Been there, done that. You aren’t the only decent detective around here, you know.”

    “Well! Well...I ...” she sputtered. “I was there first! I was the one who found the damned gun for you. And it wasn’t easy, either; he had hidden it in the big grandfather clock.”

    “Would’ve been the first place I’d have looked.”

    “Bullshit!”

    “Bull, true.”

    She sat, glaring at him, breathing hard, nostrils flared. “You know, Coulter,” she said in a deadly quiet tone, “I’ve never really liked you. Not even a little bit. I want you to know that.”

    He smirked. “Can’t say as I’m all that crazy about you, either. Though you are kinda cute when you’re pissed.”

    “I am not!”

    “Cute?”

    “Pissed. I don’t have anything to be pissed about, except you trying to take credit for my work. I broke this case and you know it. If it hadn’t been for me, you’d still be harassing poor Brian O’Donnell.”

    Dirk sobered. “Oh, yeah... I’ve gotta apologize to that guy. I was pretty hard on him.”

    Savannah reached for a ratty blanket that had been tossed on the end of the sofa and draped it around her shoulders. Suddenly, she felt chilled.

    “What are we going to do about Colonel Neilson?” she asked.

    “He committed a murder.”

    “I know. But that doesn’t answer my question.”

    “Doesn’t it?”

    “You’re going to arrest him.” It was more of a statement than a question. She knew Dirk all too well. Why had she even asked?

    Dirk sighed. “The hospital called about two hours ago. He’d just had another heart attack. He slipped into a coma. They don’t think he’s going to come out of it.”

    Savannah imagined the colonel, lying helpless on his white hospital bed, and she thought of how unfair it was that people were housed in such vulnerable machinery as the human body.

    “If he does come out of it?” she asked.

    Dirk stared at his thumbnail. “I’ll arrest him. I’ll have to, Van.”

    “And if he doesn’t? Dirk, his reputation, his granddaughter ...”

    Dirk rose and walked over to his kitchen sink. Opening the cupboard below, he squatted and pulled out the colonel’s small gun case. “If he doesn’t, I guess you and I will take a romantic moonlight stroll on the pier, kiddo.”

    She smiled at him. Loved him. For the compassion and the goodness he tried so hard to hide. “It’s a date.”

    As Savannah drove down her street toward home, Dirk sitting next to her, she said, “I wonder what our surprise is. Tammy sounded excited.”

    “I don’t think my system can take many more surprises this week,” Dirk growled.

    “She sounded happy.”

    “She sounded ditsy. With her, it’s hard to tell the difference.

    Approaching her house, she saw a classic, silver-gray Bentley parked in her driveway. “Hey! Ryan’s here, and maybe Gibson. They must be part of the surprise.”

    “Oh, thrill,” he drawled. “I’m getting terribly excited. I think I’m having a hot flash,” he added with an obnoxious lisp.

    “You know, Coulter, I really wish you would try to be a little more tolerant,” she said. “And a whole lot kinder.”

    “Yeah, yeah. I’m working on it.”

    “Work harder.”

    They parked, got out of the car, and by the time they were halfway up the walk, Tammy had thrown the front door