Suture Self : A Bed-and-breakfast Mystery

couldn’t bear it if they weren’t next door.”

Taking a bite of Judith’s marinated steak, Joe

agreed. “By the way, I’ve accepted a new case.”

“You have?” Judith was surprised. “But you’re already overloaded.”

“I’m okay, I got most of the loose ends tied up before your surgery,” Joe said, sampling a sweet-andsour prawn. “But this is one I don’t feel I can refuse.

There was a call from FOPP waiting for me when I got

home from the hospital this afternoon.”

Judith’s forehead wrinkled. “FOPP? What’s that?”

“Friends of Powerless People, advocates for the

homeless,” Joe replied, eyeing another of Judith’s

prawns. “It seems that a couple of street residents have

been killed in the last month. Not that it’s unusual in itself, but these weren’t the typical murders. You know,

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a couple of the poor devils get into it, one brains the

other with an empty bottle of Old Horsecollar. Or

smart-ass kids hassle the homeless until it gets out of

hand. According to Steve Moeller at FOPP, the two

most recent killings appeared to be deliberate and were

committed out of sight. Both stabbings, maybe by the

same knife. I’ll get more details tomorrow.”

“What about the police?” Judith inquired. “Aren’t

they trying to find the killers?”

Joe gave a slight shrug. “Sure, but you know how it

is. Even when I was still on the job, if Woody and I got

a case that was more high-profile, then our homeless

homicide got put at the bottom of the pile. That’s why

FOPP has decided to hire a private investigator.”

Judith frowned. She’d always had a sense of security

during the years that Woodrow Wilson Price had been

Joe’s partner. A solid man of African-American descent with a walrus mustache and deceptively soulful

eyes that could wring a confession out of the most

hardened criminals, Woody had never let Joe down.

And vice versa. But that was then and this was now. “It

sounds dangerous. Furthermore, you don’t have

Woody for a partner anymore.”

Joe shook his head and grinned. “I’ll manage. The

worst of it is trying to make sense of what the witnesses will say. If I can find any witnesses.”

“Take someone with you,” Judith urged. “Bill, for

instance. He can tell who’s crazy and who isn’t.”

Joe made a face at Judith. “Bill has plenty to do, too.

He still sees some of his private patients and consults

at the university. Besides, on these investigations, I like

to work solo.”

Judith started to argue, but she was too worn out and

knew she’d lose. At the other bedside, the Joneses were

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Mary Daheim