Gingerbread Man

it was just because he could smell that coffee brewing. A trigger response.
    Right. He was usually a much better liar.
    "So, is the chief ready to fire my ass yet?" Vince asked, helping himself to a doughnut.
    "He was pissed at first. Then I told him what you said on the phone, about the break-in and the boating accident. I think he gets it. Oh, he's still griping, but I really think he gets it."
    "It would be nice if someone did. The Feds sure as hell don't."
    "They will, when we dig up something more solid, and then they'll be eating crow. Besides, the two of us are more cop than any twenty Feds."
    "Three of us," Holly corrected. She sat down at the table, hitting the chair heavily, and she plunked her empty mug down in front of her. Then she turned the doughnut box toward her and began perusing its contents, taking her time. "I'm working on this case, too," she finished.
    Jerry tilted his head. "So, are you Cagney or Lacy?"
    She hauled a doughnut out of the box. She'd managed to locate the only one with both frosting and filling. "I haven't decided."
    Jerry studied her. "Look more like one of Charlie's Angels, to me."
    She lifted her eyes to meet his, and her lips curled just a little at the corners. "Thank you," she said around a mouthful of doughnut.
    "It's just a guess," he said. "Hard to tell for sure at the moment, but I figure you probably clean up nice."
    She shrugged.
    "Nice enough to knock your socks off, partner," Vince muttered. Then he damn near kicked himself for saying what he was thinking aloud. What the hell was wrong with him?
    Jerry and Holly both looked at him in surprise. Holly smiled, lowering her eyes again. Jerry lifted his brows and whistled softly, his gaze shifting from one of them to the other for long enough to make Vince uncomfortable. He sent Jerry a look, and his partner read it, nodded, moved on.
    "So, what's the plan?" Jerry asked.
    "For today, you mean?" Vince thought for a moment. "Today, we get ourselves some Halloween costumes."
    Jerry frowned at him as if he thought his partner had lost his mind. "Halloween costumes? Why?"
    "Because," Vince said. "Tonight's the big party."
    Jerry frowned, looking honestly puzzled. Shrugging, he said, "Oh, well, all right then; if it's the big party." He reached for a doughnut. "That coffee done yet?"
    "Almost." Vince got up, then paused when Holly picked up her cup and tapped it on the table. Fighting a smile, he reached over and took it from her, brought it with him to the pot to fill it up.
    He loved her in the morning. Scratch that. He found her cute as hell in the morning. Even endearing, maybe. But that was all.
    Then, as he handed her the cup, Holly's eyes met his and her face grew suddenly serious. She said, "I didn't do it in order."
    He stared back at her. Jerry said, "What's that?"
    "I didn't do it in order," Holly said softly. "I go the bathroom, shower, brush my teeth, get dressed, make my bed, and then come out here for coffee." She smiled up at Vince. "I didn't even notice."
    It was, he realized, a major step for her. She probably hadn't started a day without thinking about her routine in years.
    "That's good, Red. That's real good."
    Deep down, he was worried to death. Why now? Would she try to credit his presence with her progress, and want more than he could give?

SIXTEEN
----

    IF REGINALD D'VOE'S Gothic mansion had been eerie before, it had graduated to movie-quality horror. The front lawn had been converted into a graveyard, with giant tombstones of aging, chipped granite. They looked so real that Vince put his hand on one as they walked past, just to be sure. Polystyrene. The ground had vanished. It swam beneath layers of ghostly mist, generated, no doubt, by a professional-quality fog machine. The sour chords of a pipe organ played backup to the heartbroken wail of a pack of wolves. Every window of the house was occupied by a glowing jack-o'-lantern, each one wearing a different gruesome expression. It was damned creepy, to be frank.
    Vince walked through the open iron gates, along the path, barely able to see his feet. He wondered vaguely if any of the props had been in place the last time he'd been here. Then again, he hadn't exactly been in good enough shape to notice. His ribs were still a little tender.
    Holly walked beside him, Jerry bringing up the rear. She still hadn't said much. Nothing in fact, about what had happened between them the night before, and while he thought that was what he wanted, it was driving