Chapter 63

“It is an old maxim of mine that when you have excluded the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.”

-Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Adventure of the Beryl Coronet

When I walked passed Marcus Goodson’s secretary into his office, he was watching Judge Judy on his TV. “They don’t keep me here ‘cause I’m pretty...,” I heard her yell at some defendant.

“She’s something’ else,” Marcus said as he saw me. He turned off the set and propped his feet on the desk. “I’m surprised to see you, DD. I fired you, and you’re not going to work again for United.”

All of this made it very satisfying to observe Marcus Goodson’s eyes bulge as he viewed the video of Woodley. He went ballistic. I was glad he didn’t crush George’s camera. I can’t say I kept a straight face through his rave. With great effort, however, I restrained my smart-assed comments. It all shook out with me being rehired and getting a big bonus, Woodley getting fired, and the CrimeStopper gang getting a $1,000 bonus courtesy of deductions from Woodley’s last checks. On top of it all, United was going to file criminal charges against Woodley and Romani for conspiracy to commit insurance fraud.

I was thinking that under other circumstances, I might feel sorry for Woodley. Older guy gets caught in web of avaricious, grasping, greedy woman and commits fraud. But since Woodley had tormented me for weeks, I had no pity. I would not soon forget those notes he shoved under my door.

I headed for the door, and Marcus touched my arm. “DD, about my firing you...” He bowed his head, and his voice fell to a whisper. “I didn’t realize that what was happening on the stake out was part of your clever scheme to catch Woodley in the act. Now I understand why you couldn’t tell me what was going on. Geez, you took a big chance, but damn, you were right on. What I want to know is how did you get on to him?”

As Marcus spoke, I realized I’d been absolved of any lack of performance on my part - specifically like abandoning my surveillance post. I was sure that what Goodson didn’t know couldn’t hurt him. It certainly couldn’t hurt me, either. So I went along with his take on the thing.

“I can’t reveal all my secrets, Marcus. You wouldn’t need me anymore.”

It was getting late. It hadn’t snowed but had stayed cool with a brisk wind. I went home to shower and change, and for once, Cavvy seemed awfully glad to see me. We cat-cuddled, and he didn’t seem to think I smelled so bad. Suddenly I was filled with relief when I realized I didn’t have to look for any notes under the door. Still, there was James Dodd. I couldn’t forget about him. Why hadn’t they caught him yet?

George and Auntie Elizabeth stopped by to see if I was okay. Thankfully neither one mentioned how bad I looked and smelled. They offered to drive Tom’s van to Debra’s.

“An’ aboot Tartan Day,” Auntie Elizabeth interjected.

I winced, not ready to talk yet about the future.

“Nay, Elizabeth. Donn’a worry the lass wi’ that now,” George ordered. “You’re all a tether. Get some rest. We’ll go fetch your wee sports car from the hospital parking lot and drive it to ye, too.”

Auntie Elizabeth, for once, silently nodded in compliance. I watched open-mouthed as she bustled around the kitchen, fixing me a sandwich and hot cocoa.

I gave Cavvy fresh water then jumped in the shower, lathering my hair and my body over and over again, hoping to get rid of the smell of smoke and the blood and the horror of it all. Then I dropped exhausted into bed.