The Merchant of Menace

shrugged. “He never confided in me. Or anybody else. His stories were as much of a surprise to the station as they were to the audience. Good thing he hit the reindeer. I mean, if he’d only gotten hurt, he’d have crucified the Johnsons in court. He knew all about insurance claims. One of his specialities.“
    “How’d he get up there?“ Shelley asked. “It’s not easy to get on a roof. Especially when you’re in a Santa suit in the snow.“
    “Billy Joe had left a ladder out in the backyard when he finished his decorating,“ Mel said. “The back of the roof is a fairly shallow incline. Some owner must have had it raised to get more space upstairs.”
    Jane shook her head. “He was a wicked person, but he didn’t seem stupid. The roof had all that slushy, slippery snow; even if it wasn’t as steep as the front, it was still dangerous. What could he have wanted to watch badly enough to climb up there? And what if he hadn’t seen it—whatever it was. Did he think he could lurk in the manger up there for days?”
    Ginger spoke up again. “He was putting one of his gadgets up there, I’d guess. He had a slew of long-range listening devices and recorders and remote-control cameras. He even carried around night-vision binoculars in his car.“ Shelley shivered. “What slime. And what a well-deserved accident.”
    There was a moment of quiet, then Jane said to Mel, “I notice you’re not commenting.”
    Mel cocked an eyebrow at her and said, carefully, “There is some evidence that it might not have been an accident.“
    “Come on,“ Ginger said. “Nobody commits suicide by flinging themselves off a roof onto a plaster reind— Oh, you mean—?“
    “The usual question now,“ Mel said, “is: Did he have any enemies?“
    “Have you got a notebook with lots of blank pages to fill? He had nothing but enemies,“ Jane said. “What kind of evidence are you talking about?“
    “There appear to be two sets of footprints going up the back side of the roof. One only goes up and ends in a skid down the front. The other set goes up to the peak and then back down the back side to the ladder.“
    “Someone else was on the roof?“ Shelley exclaimed. “Can’t you get footprints? Or shoe prints, I guess.“
    “Too soggy,“ Mel said. “With the rain on top of the snow, they’re just outlines. Can’t even tell a size because of the snow melt.“
    “So someone pushed him off the roof,“ Jane said.
    “That’s jumping to conclusions,“ Mel said. “The two sets of prints were made at approximately the same time. Someone else could have been up there first and King was following him or her. Or somebody could have gone up after King fell.“
    “Why would anyone do that?“ Mike asked. Mel shrugged. “I’m just talking about physical possibilities. Not motives.“
    “But you still think somebody pushed him off the peak of the roof?“ Jane asked.
    “Without proof, I couldn’t say, but if I were to guess, I’d suspect it was murder. And we have to treat it as such until we know. I’ve got to go. Ginger, do you know where he kept his files?“
    “No files. He didn’t want anyone to know what he was doing until he did it. I think he kept everything on his laptop.“
    “Which is where?“ Mel asked.
    Ginger pointed at the squashy armchair Jane was sitting in. “That looks like the case, next to the chair. Unless it’s yours, Jane.”
    Jane peered over the arm of the chair. “No, mine’s in a blue case. He did have this with him. He bashed into the coffee table with it and knocked a candle over.”
    Mel picked up the laptop. “Let me see you to your door, Shelley, and I’ll have one of my people take Ginger to her car. Lock up carefully, Jane.”
    Mike helped Jane unload the dishwasher and put away the last of the leftover food and then he went to let the pets out of the basement. Max and Meow crept up the steps, wary that there might still be visitors in the house. When they were satisfied that there were no strangers present to try to pet them, they wound themselves sinuously around Jane’s legs, demanding food.
    “I’ll run the vacuum in the morning,“ Jane said as she opened a can of cat food. “I don’t want to wake Addie with it this late at night. Will you keep Willard in your room tonight so he doesn’t run loose and bark the house down?”
    Mike nodded, petting Willard’s big, square head. Glancing into the living room, he said, “Looks pretty good, considering. Mom, who