Silence Of The Hams

reasons that anybody would do it.“
    “Okay, let’s really think about this,“ Jane said.
    “You and Shelley think,“ Mel said. “I’m going to eat cookies and give my brain a break.“
    “Okay,“ Shelley said in her organizational voice. “Here’s the situation: X finds Y dead on the floor—“
    “Apparently dead,“ Jane interrupted.
    “Good. Yes, that might make all the difference. X finds Y sprawled on the floor. Maybe dead. Maybe unconscious. Pushes a heavy thing over on him, making it look like Y was murdered. So, what could the reasons be?“
    “Sheer frustration,“ Jane said. “X hated Y, planned to kill him, and is furious to think somebody else got to it first and lashes out in a fit of pique.“
    “Okay, that’s one,“ Shelley said. “Sheer hatred. X hated Y, but couldn’t take any action against him, so when he sees him helpless for once, he’s overcome by the impulse to dish out vengeance. And even if he knew for sure that Y was already dead, that hatred might just need the outlet of pretending to kill him.“
    “A bit more baroque,“ Jane said as if evaluating a painting. “How’s this: X finds Y lying dead on the floor—doesn’t necessarily even know or care who it is, but has a rabid hatred for Z—“
    “Z?“ Shelley asked indignantly.
    “Let me finish. X hates Z and thinks by pushing the rack over on Y, he can blame it on Z.“
    “Who could Z be?“ Shelley asked, still apparently resentful of the introduction of this new character.
    “The first person who comes to mind is Conrad, just because it’s his deli. Or maybe X planned to claim later that he’d seen Z leave the room just before the crash.“
    “If that were the case, why didn’t X ever make such an accusation?“ Shelley asked.
    As serious as the subject really was, Jane felt a sense of ghoulish amusement take over. “Try this one then: X knows Y is having an affair with Z and was once married to Q, who is trying to haul him into court to testify in a drug-running case against P—“
    “—and S knew all about it and was threatening to tell M, who feared that K would hear about it and All Would Be Revealed!“ Shelley finished. “I like it, Jane. Mel, we’ve solved it. You can probably still make your arrest this evening if you hurry.”
    Mel stared at them and then spoke very slowly and deliberately. “I thank all that is holy that you two didn’t go into law enforcement.”

21

    Jane couldn’t sleep, which was a rare affliction for her. She claimed, only half joking, that anywhere that you could throw down a blanket and wad of something soft resembling a pillow was a good enough bed. She prided herself on being a champion sleeper, so on the rare occasions when she had insomnia, it made her furious. And that, naturally, made it worse.
    She’d gone to bed not long after Shelley and Mel left and spent a luxurious hour finishing the Dorothy Sayers book she’d been reading in ten-minute bits since the week before. The rain had stopped, so she opened her bedroom window, turned out the light, and snuggled down to enjoy the cool air and, with any luck at all, dream about Lord Peter.
    She was still flouncing around, trying out various comfortable positions, and waiting for sleep, when she heard Mike come in. She thought about calling good night to him in the hopes that he might feel like a chat, but rejected the idea. He’d think she’d waited up for him on purpose. Finally she nodded off, only to be awakened again at four-thirty when Max, who had positioned himself in the open bedroom window, saw a creature in the yard and gave a low, eerie growl.
    Jane gave up.
    She closed the window—it had gotten downright chilly—threw some sweats on over her nightgown, and decided she’d go downstairs and find another book to read. While she was at it, she’d get some laundry started while nobody was awake to complain about the washing machine interfering with showering. She gathered up an armload of dark clothes and crept quietly downstairs.
    Max and Meow thought the whole thing was great. Night was their favorite time and there was so seldom anyone awake to enjoy it with them. They lashed themselves against her legs and made chirruping is-it-breakfast-time? noises. Jane dumped the dirty clothes by the basement door and opened a can of cat food, then picked the clothes up again and went down to throw them in the wash. She considered booting up the computer and playing a little solitaire while she was