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“Well,” said Diane, drawing herself up. “I’ll leave you to it. Let me know if I can answer any questions.”
When Diane left the room, closing the door behind her, Slade chuckled. “She shoots; she scores. God, was she always that insufferable?”
“To girls who weren’t her acolytes? Absolutely. To any hunky or rich guy? Absolutely not. As I recall, there were rumors about the two of you your senior year.”
“Diane and me? Even back then I knew a viper when it slithered my way.”
“I always thought of her as more of a spider.”
“Spider, snake—both to be avoided.”
Hours later they were stiff and sore and had found nothing. It felt as if they were searching for a needle in a haystack. Fiona was frustrated, while Slade was dogged and patient. Fiona wondered if they’d even know the right papers when they found them, and if they did, if they’d be of any help at all.
“This is maddening. It’s why I like writing fiction better. I can just make things up, go back, and revise or even give my characters some flash of brilliant insight. Is this what being a real detective is like?”
“Pretty much—hours of mind-numbing research punctuated by minutes of danger and absolute terror.”
“I don’t even remember what I’m hoping to find.”
“I keep hoping the paper would either have printed the names, or there’d be notes from a reporter or photos. Something that could give us a lead so we could conduct some interviews.” Slade glanced at his watch. They’d been at it all afternoon.
The door opened and Diane stuck her head inside. “I almost forgot you were here. I’m going to close down for the night. I can give you about another half an hour.”
“Thanks, Diane,” said Fiona as Diane withdrew, closing the door behind her. “Where do you want to focus?”
“Got your camera?” Fiona dug in her bag, pulling it out. Slade arranged a bunch of the pictures that they had yet to go through. “Start taking pictures. We can grab something either to eat for dinner or something for me to cook and throw these up on your smartboard.”
Fiona began grouping pictures and snapped away. Like all those before them, they had no names or dates, but these seemed to be of the same time period up by the falls.
“Get these,” said Slade in an excited voice. “These weren’t taken by a pro. They’re blurry and taken at night. The faces are faded, and some are out of focus.”
“A lot of the kids have their backs to the camera.”
“Yeah, but it’s pretty easy to see the make, model, and license plates of those cars.”
“You’re right. The photos don’t look like someone at the party took them,” said Fiona.
“No, they don’t. So, what are they doing here? Why is the paper archiving them?”
“Who took the pictures, and what do they mean?”
“I have no idea, but I think we may have just had one of those flashes of brilliance.”
Fiona had just put her camera back in her bag as Slade shuffled the pictures in with the notes they found in a file when Diane stuck her head back in.
“That’s it, kids. I’m going to need to close up shop, but you’re welcome to come back tomorrow.”
“You were right, Diane. There really wasn’t anything to find,” said Slade as he guided Fiona past Diane.
“I hate to say I told you so,” said Diane as Fiona thought, ‘like hell you do.’ “But I didn’t think you’d find anything of interest. Slade, I really would appreciate the chance to interview you before you talk to any other reporters.”
Slade smiled what Fiona was beginning to think of as his ‘male weatherman with the good teeth’ smile. “I promise you’ll know before we speak to the media at large.”
“Oh, Slade, that would be so wonderful. Perhaps we could go to dinner and discuss some things—you know, in broad terms,” said Diane hopefully.
Fiona almost felt sorry for her—almost.
“Fiona and I have plans. We’re either going to grab something to go or hit the grocery store so I can stock her fridge and pantry.”
