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“You can’t do cloak and dagger in Bleak Ridge. You need a world capital—some place like London, Rome, Amsterdam, or Moscow.”
“Said the man who’s obviously played that game.”
“On more than one occasion,” he admitted, “and not always well.”
“Look,” she said, pointing toward the station.
Annette came out of the station and stopped when Detective Middleton emerged. Taking her elbow, he walked her to her car. They stood by the driver’s side door and chatted for a few minutes.
“That looks a bit intense,” said Lori.
Ryker nodded. “Intense, but quiet. Like he doesn’t want to draw attention to them.”
“Is the detective married? I didn’t see a ring, but that doesn’t always mean anything.”
“No. There was a time he kind of thought of himself as a big deal, but he got passed over when the town council brought the current chief in. He tried undermining the chief with the council. The chief got wind of it and shut him down. My guess is when the chief moves on, Middleton will be passed over again.”
“Do you think he’s holding back on calling in the MCU because he’s trying to show the council that he could be chief?”
“That’s exactly what I think. The problem is he’s going about it the wrong way, and if the rumors are right, this is absolutely the wrong time to play that kind of game.”
“What are the rumors?” she asked.
“That the chief is being courted for another position in a bigger town, so there will be an opening. But if Middleton bungles this, which it sure looks like he’s doing, they’ll write him off, and he’ll never be more than he is now.”
“Holy shit,” exclaimed Lori as Middleton leaned down and kissed Annette, who then got in her car and gave the detective a little wave as she drove off.
“From weird to weirder,” said Ryker.
“So, the guy in charge of the investigation is dating the woman who could have supplied the murder weapon—deliberately or inadvertently? There may not be anything specifically illegal about that…”
“But it sure does make you wonder exactly what is going on.” He put the car in gear and headed back to the hotel. “So, my super sleuth girlfriend, what’s our next move?”
“Me? You’re the Pulitzer Prize-winning investigative journalist. I just write about this stuff.”
“I just report on it. You’re the one who is a rising star novelist who writes whodunits for a living.”
“True, but Middleton told us to back off.”
“So?” he laughed. “If I had backed off every time some cop or official told me to, I never would have won the Pulitzer.”
“So even though it is a small town, we’re going to do some cloak and dagger.”
“I am going to plan something for us in Europe where we can do some kind of cloak and dagger adventure game.”
“I’ve heard about those. I think it would be fun.”
“Me, too. Kind of like an extended version of those murder mystery dinner parties.”
“What are we going to do?”
“I need to get you back to the hotel. I don’t think we need to be calling attention to the fact that you aren’t there.”
“And here I was hoping you wanted to go back to the hotel and indulge in some decadent afternoon sex.”
“Much as I’d like to do just that, I think the typewriter ribbon, Middleton, and Annette are key components in whatever’s going on.”
“Agreed. The typewriter ribbon especially. It has to be significant to the killer, as they used it as a murder weapon. I’m frustrated and annoyed that Middleton has been so cavalier about it. Do you think he really sent it to a forensics lab?”
