Carolina Moon

taking winding paths and detours until it settled down into complete thoughts. He tended to be plodding.
    He also tended to be thorough.
    But above all, Carl D. was affable.
    He didn’t bitch and moan about being awakened at four in the morning. He’d simply gotten up and dressed in the dark so as not to disturb his wife. He’d left her a note on the kitchen board, and had tucked her latest honey-do list in his pocket on the way out.
    What he thought about Kincade Lavelle being at Victoria Bodeen’s house at four in the morning, he kept to himself.
    Cade met him at the door. “Thanks for coming, Chief.”
    “Oh well, that’s all right.” Carl D. chewed contentedly on the stick of Big Red gum he was never without since his wife had nagged him into quitting smoking. “Had yourself a prowler, did you?”
    “We had something. Let’s take a look around the side, see what you think.”
    “How’s your family doing?”
    “They’re fine, thanks.”
    “Heard your aunt Rosie was down for a visit. You be sure to give her my best, now.”
    “I’ll do that.” Cade shone his flashlight on the grass under the bedroom window, waited while Carl D. did the same, and pondered.
    “Well, could be y’all had somebody standing there playing Peeping Tom. Might’ve been an animal.” He scanned with his light, chewed contemplatively.
    “It’s a quiet spot, off the road a ways. Don’t see that anybody’d have good cause to be wandering ‘round out here. Guess they could come across from the road, or out through the swamp. You get any kind of a look?”
    “No, I didn’t see anything. Tory did.”
    “Guess I’ll talk to her first, then do some poking around. Anybody was out here’s hightailed it by now.”
    He got creakily to his feet and swept his light over the darker shadows where the live oaks and tupelos closed in the swamp. “Yeah, this here’s a quiet spot, all right. Couldn’t pay me to live out this-a-way. Bet you hear frogs and owls and such all blessed night long.”
    “You get used to them,” Cade said, as they walked around to the back door. “You don’t really hear them.”
    “I guess that’s the way. You get so’s you don’t hear the usual sounds anymore. And something that’s not usual gives you a kind of jolt. Would you say that?”
    “I suppose I would. And no, I didn’t hear anything.”
    “Me, I’m what you call a light sleeper. Least little thing pops my eyes open. Now, Ida-Mae, she won’t stir if a bomb goes off.” He stepped into the kitchen, blinked at the bright lights, then politely removed his cap. “Morning, Miz Bodeen.”
    “Chief Russ. I’m sorry for the trouble.”
    “Don’t you worry about that. Would that be coffee I smell?”
    “Yes, I just made it. Let me pour you a cup.”
    “Sure would appreciate that. Heard you had a nice turnout at your store yesterday. My wife sure enjoyed herself. Got one of those wind chimes. Fussed about it the minute I got in the door. Nothing would do but I hang it up right off the bat. Makes a pretty sound.”
    “Yes, they do. What would you like in your coffee?”
    “Oh, a half a pound of sugar’s all.” He winked at her. “You don’t mind, we’ll sit down here and you can tell me about this prowler of yours.”
    Tory shot Cade a look before she set out the coffee and sat. “Someone was at the window, the bedroom window, while Cade and I were …”
    Carl D. took out his notepad and one of the three chewed-up pencils in his pocket. “I know this is a mite awkward for you, Miz Bodeen. You try to relax now. Did you get a look at the person at the window?”
    “No. No, not really. I woke up, and came into the kitchen for a drink of water. While I was standing at the sink I … He was watching the house. Watching me, us. He doesn’t want me here. He’s stirred up that I came back.”
    “Who?”
    “The same man who killed Hope Lavelle.”
    Carl D. set his pencil down, and tucking his gum in the pocket of his cheek, picked up his coffee to sip. “How do you know that, Miz Bodeen?”
    Oh, his tone was mild, she thought, but his eyes were the cool, flat eyes of a cop. She knew cops’ eyes, intimately. “The same way I knew where to find Hope the morning after she was killed. You were there.” She knew her voice was belligerent, her posture defensive. She couldn’t help it. “You weren’t chief then.”
    “No, I’ve only been chief for going on six years. Chief Tate, he retired, moved on down to Naples, Florida.