Blood Trail

well, he grew."

    Just then Celluci came into the kitchen leaving Shadow out on the lawn, tongue lolling, frisbee safe under both front paws. "Good, you're ready. Let's get going, it's almost noon. I hear Henry Fitzroy's still in bed." He kept himself from sneering but only just.

    "He had a busy night."

    "Didn't we all."

    Then it hit her. "Going where?"

    "Back into town. You need to check with the mechanic - unless you don't care if Peter's charged with operating an unsafe vehicle - someone somewhere has to know who has the skill to make those shots so I suggest we go where the boys are, and Donald has to be picked up and brought home."

    "Yeah? So?" She folded her arms across her chest. "What does any of that have to do with you?"

    "I've decided to stick around." He inclined his head toward Nadine. "No extra charge."

    Vicki bit off the Fuck you! before she actually vocalized it. It almost choked her, but her pride, measured against the lives of the wer, meant nothing. On the other hand, in spite of what he thought, Mike Celluci did not have a direct line to truth and he had no right to butt in.

    "What's up?" Peter followed his sister into the kitchen and looked from Vicki to Celluci, nostrils flared. There were some strange scents in the air.

    "Vicki's just deciding who's going to be driving into town," Nadine told him.

    "Rose," Peter said promptly. "I'm still traumatized from yesterday."

    Rose rolled her eyes. "You want to sit with your head out the window."

    He grinned. "That, too."

    "I'm driving because we're taking my car."

    The twins turned as one to look at Vicki.

    I should tell him to go home and this time make it stick, even if I have to break a few bones. I don't need his high-handed help.

    Reading her indecision, Peter moved a step closer, and lowered his voice. "Uh, Vicki, about him being around, I don't think Henry's going to approve."

    Her eyes narrowed to slits. What the hell did Henry have to do with this? She grabbed her purse up off the floor and headed for the door. "What are you standing around for?" she snapped as she passed Celluci. "I thought you were driving."

    Celluci glanced speculatively at Peter, then followed.

    "What was all that about?" Peter wondered as the twins hurried to catch up. "Why did Aunt Nadine start laughing?"

    "You really don't know?"

    "No. I really don't."

    Rose sighed and shook her head. "Peter, you are such a dork sometimes."

    "Am not."

    "Are too."

    They'd have continued the argument all the way into London if Vicki hadn't threatened to muzzle them both.

Twelve
    "There's your problem."

    Vicki peered down into the engine of Henry's BMW. Nothing looked obviously wrong.
    "Where's the problem?"

    "There." The mechanic pointed with the screwdriver he held. "Brakeline, up by the master cylinder."

    "There's something wrong with the brakeline?"

    "Yeah. Holed."

    "What do you mean, holed?"

    The mechanic sighed. His expression said "Women!" as clearly as if he'd spoken the word aloud. "Holed. Like, not solid."

    "Someone put a hole in it?" It took a moment for the implications of that to sink in. Had the stakes just gone up? Had the killer become aware of her involvement and decided to do something about it? She frowned; that didn't fit the established pattern. Suddenly the air in the garage, already redolent with iron and oil and gasoline, grew thicker and harder to breathe.

    "Didn't say someone did it. See here?" He lifted the black rubber hose on the end of his screwdriver. "Rubbed against that piece of metal. Rubbed just right between the ribs and broke through." Shrugging, he let the hose drop. "Happens. Brakes work for a while but lose fluid. Lose enough fluid and. ..."A greasy finger cut a line across his throat.

    "Yes, I know." Vicki straightened. "I was there. So you'll be telling the police ... ?"

    "Accident. Tough luck. Nobody's fault." He shrugged again and turned to shake his head at the destroyed side of the car. "Hard to believe everyone walked away. Lucky."

    Very lucky, Vicki realized. Death had missed her by less than a couple of feet and if Rose had been riding on the passenger side, she wouldn't have survived. Holding her glasses on her nose, Vicki bent over the brakeline again; something didn't look right.

    "Why the hell would anyone build a car so that the brakeline rubbed?"

    She could hear the shrug in the mechanic's voice. "Could be 'cause it's an old car. Built in '76, things go wrong. Could've been a mistake on the line.