Rarities Unlimited 04 - The Color of Death

coffee is done yet?” Sam asked.
    “I think you drink too much coffee.”
    “You too. You want a cup?”
    “What do you think?”
    “I think the coffee is ready.”
    Sam went to the kitchen, inspected the state of the coffeemaker, and decided it was close enough for government work. He poured two mugs and headed back to the workroom. As he did, he automatically checked the status lights on the alarm system.
    All green.
    “Want some pizza with it?” he asked, setting the mug in front of her.
    She shook her head, frowning at something on the page in front of her.
    “You sure?” he asked. “There might not be any left if you change your mind in a few minutes.”
    She half smiled and waved toward the remains of their hasty dinner. “I’m sure. Knock yourself out.”
    He pulled the mostly empty pizza box closer and settled in to clean up everything but the grease spots on the cardboard. While he chewed, he listened, waiting for the instant when the same facts assembled in a different way would lead to new insights, new suspects, something .
    When Kate got to the part where she received the death threat, he tried not to think about how satisfying it would be to strangle the cowardly son of a bitch.
    I have to catch him first. One fact at a time, one step at a time, go over it again and again, repeat as necessary. Something will pop. It has to.
    Kate transferred another red note to the Prime Suspects tablet. This note said Person Unknown/Death Threat. When she started to recite the list of dealers who had attended the same conventions in the months since Purcell surfaced with one of the Seven Sins, Sam interrupted.
    “I’ve got Mario on those,” Sam said. “Unless a name appears on another tablet heading, put them all under Long Shot.”
    Both of them already knew that none of the dealer/civilian expert names appeared under any other heading, except for Peyton Hall, CGSI, Purcell, and Sizemore Security Consulting. But even after their names were stuck to the Active tablet, the tablet labeledLong Shot still sprouted so many notes that it looked like a drunken checkerboard.
    “What about Mandel Inc.?” Kate asked. “They’re civilians.”
    “Your parents said no one in the organization had access to the courier routes, times, or goods.”
    “Someone could have hacked into the files.”
    Sam almost smiled at her determination to treat everyone as an equal suspect. When he’d told her that each time they went through the facts again, they had to treat it like the first time, he hadn’t expected the level of intensity and unrelenting concentration she’d given to the job.
    “The Mandel Inc. computer that deals with routes, couriers, and so on, isn’t connected to the Internet, so it can’t be hacked into,” he reminded her. “Only your parents have the computer entry code. Same for Sizemore’s company and CGSI. Unless you tell me something new, your parents stay in the When Pigs Fly category. The jury is still out on the rest of the folks.”
    “Okay.” Absently, Kate rubbed her neck. “Now we’re at the part where it gets complicated. Your turn.”
    Without meaning to, both of them looked at the table that was nearly covered with sticky notes waiting to be assigned. Many of the names were duplicates, which was one way of keeping track of how many “hits” each name had in the course of the investigation, and whether the hits came under motive, opportunity, and/or means.
    Sam picked up his own tablet and began reading. “Crime strike force personnel. Pending further investigation, assumed motive is money.”
    Another flurry of notes were lifted from the table and put into tablets. All but one name went into the Active category. Sam’s name went on the Last Resort list.
    “When Pigs Fly,” Kate said, yanking off the note and putting it on another tablet.
    “What if all this is an elaborate ruse on my part to—”
    “Oh, bull,” Kate interrupted. “Don’t waste my time.”
    “What makes you so certain?”
    She rolled her eyes, then saw that he was serious. “There are some things a man can’t fake.”
    “Emotions? Darling, I hate to tell you but—”
    “Erections,” she said succinctly. “You might screw me once just because I was handy and you were horny, but it takes real passion to do it four times in a row.”
    “Stamina too.”
    “Exactly.”
    “For you too.”
    “You noticed?”
    He smiled and touched the corner of her mouth. “I noticed.”
    She kissed his