“Don’t change the subject.”
“But it can convert to benzene—”
“Teanaliese Leon!”
“I don’t understand what he was doing.If he’d already killed Tafton and planted the cane, why was he in the bedroom?”
“Looking for something to boost,” Jem said with a shrug.“Or finding another place to leave more evidence.”
“Maybe the latter,” Tean said.“But not the former.Not if he wanted it to look like Tafton killed himself.”
“What do you mean?”
“Vaughan—Mr.Larsen—told me they found a suicide note in the chalet.”
“Shit.”
“And the gun, Jem.”
Jem flexed his free hand; the aches were getting worse.“Right.Why wait to fire a gun until you’re in the middle of a snowstorm?Why not blast us with it when we interrupted him?”
“Aside from, you know, leaving our bullet-ridden corpses at the scene?”
“Yeah, aside from that,” Jem said absently.“What the fuck is going on?”
“I’ve been thinking about it.”A smile ghosted across Tean’s face.“A lot, big surprise.Jem, there had to be someone else.”
Jem nodded slowly.“Working with Stephen?”
“I don’t know.”
“Nora?”
Tean hesitated.“I don’t know.I asked Vaughan if he could find out where she’s been today, but I haven’t heard back from him.”
“So, we don’t know why Stephen was in the chalet.We don’t know if he had something to do with getting rid of Tafton.We don’t know who else is involved.And we don’t know why someone would want Tafton dead.Wait, do we know why someone would want Tafton dead?”
The doc shook his head.
“Well, we’re doing great,” Jem said sourly.“Do you think it had something to do with what Quinn and Beckett told us?Tafton said he’d figured out a way around the filter on his phone.”
“I don’t know.I don’t know how it could.”
“One thing wedoknow is that Tafton lied about where he was Friday night.Quinn and Beckett saw him going somewhere with Stephen.”
“Vaughan told me that he’s looking for Stephen, but he’s only got a couple of security staff, and they’re stretched pretty thin.Without the cameras, they’re going to have a hard time finding Stephen unless they luck into him.”
“Which means we have to find him ourselves,” Jem said.“Which means I need clothes, unless you plan on us playing Naked Detectives, which actually sounds like an awesome game for when Scipio is at doggy daycare.The mystery of the hidden pickle.The mystery of the wiener in the bun.The mystery of the men who porked.Hey, wait, we still haven’t banged!”
“We arenotplaying Naked Detectives,” Tean said—a little more firmly than Jem would have liked, although hedidappreciate how Tean’s cheeks turned red atthe mystery of the wiener in the bun.“Youare going to rest.Iam going to make sure you rest.”Getting to his feet, Tean said, “I’ll warm up the soup.”
“The soup?”Jem called after him.“What kind of soup?Does it have potatoes?Does it have bacon?There better be crackers!”
Tean, as usual, didn’t bother to respond.
Some bargaining, finagling, and weaseling finally got Jem permission to sit on the couch in the front room.A gas fire burned steadily on fake logs, and although Jem was required—bylaw—to stay bundled up in the blankets, he actually found the heat pleasant.Tean produced some Tylenol, and the aches in Jem’s hands and feet faded.Tean bustled around the kitchenette.A bowl clinked.Something poured.The microwave dinged.
“Chicken noodle?”Jem said.
