Deaths Excellent Vacation

missed the fireworks last night, would you care to join me tonight?”
    “I’d love to.”
    We didn’t speak on the way to the fireworks pavilion. Of course, the fireworks would be visible from anywhere in the park, but the best place was the pavilion, a semicircle of bleachers in front of a small stage where Pirate Dave would announce the show. Directly behind the stage was the man-made lake that was the center of the park, and the moored barge from which the fireworks were shot.
    We were about halfway there when the silence got to me and for lack of anything else to talk about, I said, “I never realized gunpowder had such a distinctive odor.”
    “Oh?” Dave said politely.
    “I assume that’s what I was smelling on the pyrotechnics guy.”
    No response, not even an Arr, that be the way of it .
    “I’d never smelled anything like that before tonight, but I noticed it on one of the other fireworks guys out in the park.”
    “Hmm . . .” Dave said absentmindedly. Then he stopped. “What did you say?”
    “I said that fireworks smell really strong, and I noticed them on one of the employees earlier.”
    “None of the park employees have anything to do with the fireworks because of insurance regulations. We have a contract with a pyrotechnics company, and they never come until just before the show.”
    We looked at each other as we both came to the same awful conclusion. The saboteur had done something to the fireworks! Dave took off, moving so fast I could barely see him, let alone keep up.
    Since there was no way I could catch him, I ran into the nearest souvenir shop and buttonholed the salesclerk. “Have you got a walkie-talkie or a phone? Some way of getting in touch with security?”
    “Yeah, but—”
    “Tell them to stop the fireworks! Tell them there’s something wrong with them! Now!”
    I was going to have to tell Dave to give that gal a raise, because she didn’t even hesitate.
    I left her to it and started toward the pavilion. Then I stopped. Even if I could get to the fireworks in time, I wouldn’t know what to do when I got there, short of Changing and peeing on the lit fuses. Dave would take care of that part. In the meantime, I was willing to lay odds that the saboteur was waiting impatiently for disaster to strike. And I had his scent!
    I ran back into the souvenir shop, to the door marked Ship’s Crew-members Only . The cashier was busy on the phone and didn’t notice me ducking into the back room, but she sure noticed when I burst back out after Changing.
    Which way to go? I was going to assume that the saboteur was sticking around to see the havoc he’d caused, just as he had after the Octopus broke down. But I was also assuming he wasn’t suicidal, so he wouldn’t want to be too close to where the fireworks were going to explode or misfire or whatever he’d planned. Presumably he’d be somewhat close to the exit. What was the best place to watch the fireworks that was close to the exit?
    Had I still had fingers, I’d have snapped them. The crow’s nest! The mocked-up section of a ship where the daytime Pirate Dave stood was high enough to see the fireworks from and right in front of the exit. And, unfortunately, halfway across the park. Still, though I may not have been as fast as a vampire, I wasn’t exactly slow, and I was close enough to see a shadowy figure in the crow’s nest when the first firework went off. As the purple chrysanthemum lit up the sky, I saw he was dressed in black from head to toe, complete with a black face mask, like a ninja. Did ninja count as supernatural?
    I was listening for screams or some sign that something had gone wrong, but there was nothing. A minute later, I realized there’d been no second explosion either. Either Dave or the helpful cashier had stopped them in time!
    The saboteur must also have figured out his plan had gone awry because he clambered down the ladder and sprinted for the exit. I put on a burst of speed and tackled him, and both of us rolled over from the impact. Lucky for me, I ended up on top, straddling him and growling. He looked up at me, covered his face with his hands, and whimpered.
    Though I hated to admit it, just for an instant I felt a taste of that ravening beast Dave had accused me of being. I wanted to rip the bastard’s throat out, and I howled in pure triumph. Chihuahuas and Scotties are all well and good, but when you really want to make an impression, there’s nothing like a wolf.
    Before the