The Cove

got himself burned to death when he turned on the gas stove. Both were accidents, at least that's what was reported and accepted. Everyone felt real bad about it, said the Vorheeses were the nicest people, and he was a reverend, and why would God take both their children? "But there were questions. It seems a couple of other children had accidents during the time the Vorheeses lived there. Then the Vorheeses left and came here. There weren't any more children. Who the hell knows?" He waited for applause and he got it. "That's something," David Mountebank said. "Good going, Thomas. You got any more?"

    "There's also some history on Gus Eisner, the old guy who fixes everything on wheels in this town. Turns out his wife, Velma, isn't his first wife. His first wife was murdered. He was accused of the crime, but the DA never had enough evidence to bring him to trial. One month later Gus marries Velma and they move here. From Detroit. Hell, we've got to check on every single soul in this town. Corey's checking on the Keatons."

    "Yeah, you're right. We've got to check on all of them," Quinlan said, at which the other man stared at him, utterly surprised, a flicker of pleasure in those dark eyes of his. "I hope it's one or the other. But it still doesn't feel right."

    "Look, Quinlan," Thomas Shredder said. "Since the doctor was murdered, we looked all through his background."

    "Well, Thomas," Corey Harper said, interrupting him, "actually David ran all the checks on him."

    "Yes," David said, sitting forward. "He came here in the late forties with his wife. She died in the mid-sixties of breast cancer. They had two boys, both dead now, one in Vietnam, the other in a motorcycle accident in Europe. There was a rich uncle who died. That's all I could find out, Quinlan."

    "We'll see, won't we? If the money didn't come from Doc Spiver, then it had to come from someplace else."

    An ancient throat cleared in the doorway, grabbing their attention.

    "Well, now, you're back, Sally, and you, Mr. Quinlan. I hear from Amabel that the FBI has nearly everything cleared up back in that capital of ours, that foul den of iniquity." She paused a moment, shaking her head. "Goodness, I'd sure like to visit there."

    Thelma Nettro had opened the door and was standing there, leaning on her cane, beaming at all of them, the pumpkin peach lipstick smeared, some of it on her false front teeth.

    "Hello, Thelma," Quinlan said and rose to go to her. He leaned down and kissed her cheek. "You're looking like a French model. How's tricks?"

27

    "YOU'VE GOT A smart mouth on you, boy," Thelma said in high good humor. She patted Quinlan's cheek. "Help me to my chair and I'll tell you all about my tricks."

    Once Quinlan had her settled, she said, "Now, what's this I hear on CNN-that Sally's father killed a man he'd paid some plastic surgeon to make look like him? He locked you up, Sally? Then he skipped out?"

    "That's about it, Thelma," Sally said. "My father is still free, more's the pity, but they'll catch him. His face has been all over the TV. Someone will spot him. He didn't leave the country, his passport isn't missing."

    "He could have gotten another passport," Thomas Shredder said. "That's never a problem."

    "Shit," Quinlan said. "Excuse me, Thelma. I didn't think of that. You're right, Thomas."

    "I've heard worse things than a little shit in my lifetime, Quinlan. So, you got some more FBI agents here. You want to solve those murders, huh?'' "Yes, ma'am," Corey Harper said. "We all thought Doc had killed himself, but that woman from Portland said it wasn't so."

    "The medical examiner," David said. "I was lucky she's so well trained and was available. Otherwise it might have passed as a suicide."

    "Poor Doc," Thelma said. "Who'd want to stick a gun in his mouth? It isn't civilized-you know?"

    "No, it isn't."

    "As for that young woman with the three children, well, that was a pity too, but after all, she wasn't one of us. She was from that wretched subdivision."

    "Yeah, Thelma, she lived all of three miles away," Quinlan said, seeing his irony floating gently over Thelma's head. "Fact is, though, she did die right here."

    Quinlan sat himself back down beside Sally on the brocade sofa. When he spoke again, Sally immediately recognized that voice of his, low and soothing, intimate. That voice would get information out of a turnip. “Now, did you ever meet that rich uncle of Doc Spiver's, Thelma?"

    "Nope, never did. I don't even