Page 70

“They basically told me this kind of thing happens during the winter. And they assured me my assailant was probably more afraid of me than I was him.”

Flint returned to being unamused. “And what about the power going out?”

“These are old houses. Sometimes they blow a fuse and the power goes out. Which is true. It’s one reason I wasn’t that concerned when the lights didn’t come on. But I know I didn’t leave the window unlocked, let alone open.”

Flint nodded, opened his mouth, and his cell phone rang. He glanced at it, did a quick doubletake, and rose, muttering, “Excuse me a sec.”

Flint didn’t just leave the kitchen, he walked down the hall and out the front door.

Zach stared after him. The fact that Flint was in his kitchen at all, was surreal. But if Zachhadever imagined Flint sharing his breakfast table, he’d have pictured something pretty much like this: Flint brusque and businesslike.

“Does he seem nervous to you?” Zach asked Mr. B.

Mr. B. chose not to go on the record, but Zach had already discarded that theory.

“Maybe not nervous, but… Defensive?”

That was it. Flint seemed on guard. As though he expected Zach to come at him for… What? Taking advantage of his weakened state? No way. Fearing Zach might make too much of what had happened between them? That was more like it.

Zach’s happiness deflated a bit. Anyway, what was there to be so happy about?

First of all, not that much had happened. That is, nice things that felt very good had happened, but if someone wanted to get technical, the events of last evening fell more under the heading of heavy petting than actual intercourse.

Maybe Zach wasn’t a-a man of the world (whatever that meant) but he did know, regardless of who had done what to whom, he and Flint were not now going steady. Zach wasn’t forgetting about Detective Schneider. And for all he knew, Schneider was one of a cast of thousands.

Last night had been…

Well, it had been one of the nicest things that had happened to Zach in a long time. But he was not going to be stupid about it. Not least because he didn’t want to do anything that might prevent it happening again.

The front door slammed and Flint was back in the kitchen. He said crisply, “Ensenada del Sello PD just brought Ransford Beacher in for questioning.”

Why would that news bring a flush to Flint’s face or put that gleam of anger in his eyes? Zach said cautiously, “That’s to be expected, right?”

“They’ve named him a person of interest.”

“A person of interest inwhat? When I spoke to Bill Cameron, they still hadn’t determined whether Alton staged the accident. Or do they think Ransford helped Alton fake his death?”

“Someone died in that crash,” Flint pointed out. “And the butler is still hospitalized.”

“Has he recovered consciousness?”

“Conscious and apparently talking.”

“That’s good news. The butler has to know who was driving. The butler has to know if there was an extra person in the car.”

“Yes.”

Zach was still thinking. “They didn’t name Ransford a suspect?”

“Person of interest,” Flint repeated.

“So, they don’t have enough to charge him yet. They’re still gathering evidence. It could be a fishing expedition.”

“Correct.”

Zach asked suddenly, “What did Zora have to say when you interviewed her yesterday?” He had been so distracted after learning he had moved into the prime suspect slot—and the reason for that—he’d entirely forgotten that Flint had not simply been paying a courtesy call on the widow.

“Not as much as I’d hoped. She was half-zonked on tranquilizers, for one thing. She did say she went straight to bed after returning home from Pinch. She wasn’t aware her husband came back to the house, let alone that he went out again. She said he often stayed at their beach house. But they sleep—slept—in suites on opposite sides of the house. And she takes sleeping pills. According to Zora, she had no idea Alton wasn’t at work until the sheriffs arrived to notify her of the accident.”