“Whaddawe got, Barbara?” Frank asked one of the EMTs as he and Charlotte clambered of the car.
The woman pulled off her Latex gloves. “Hey, Frank. One dead. Male, seventy-three. Carbon monoxide. Wife went shopping and returned to find him unresponsive in the garage. Looks like he was running his generator with the doors shut.”
Frank shook his head. “Do people never learn? Every damn hurricane.”
A small crowd had gathered on the opposite side of the road. Most wore casual clothes, and all looked as if they had a little money, so Charlotte guessed them to be curious neighbors. No one looked unusual, except the few wearing golf attire and holding clubs in their hands. They’d probably wandered off the nearby course when they saw the flashing lights—
Charlotte’s focus rolled over the crowd, screeching to a halt on a familiar man. Taking a step to the side to afford herself a better view, she spotted his socks through the legs of the other looky-loos—white and pulled up over his calves.
Charlotte left Frank talking to the EMT and moved through the crowd to approach the man.
“Jack Canton?”
The man scowled. “Yes?”
“You’re Ted’s neighbor.”
He pointed at her. “You’re the girl from this morning. With the sheriff.”
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
He laughed without humor. “I could ask you the same thing. Are you the sheriff’s secretary or something?”
“No, I’m a private detective.”
“For who? Ted’s family?”
“No.” Charlotte felt Jack’s haughty amusement shift toward annoyance. If the conversation continued in the direction it pointed now, she’d never get a straight answer out of him. She did her best to soften her expression. Fitting his assumptions would be the fastest way to make him feel comfortable and herself less threatening.
“I take notes for Sheriff Marshal sometimes,” she said.
He seemed to relax and she felt confident she’d transformed herself into a familiar piece, one that fit neatly into the puzzle of his world.
She continued, easing into the questions she really wanted answered. “Funny to see you again. You heard the ambulance, I guess?”
He nodded. “I saw the ambulance and we came over to see what was up. We were on the fifth.” He pointed to the golf course behind the dead man’s house.
She shook her head. “Two dead bodies in one day.”
“Hm?”
“This is the second dead body you’re seeing today.”
He pointed at the house. “This guy’s dead?”
“Apparently.”
“Hm. I didn’t see. You’re right. That is weird.” He perked and winked at her. “I should play the lottery.”
He looked past her and his expression changed to one of confusion. Charlotte followed his gaze to see a dark-haired woman step into a gray sedan to drive away.
“That’s the woman from this morning,” said Jack.
“Who?”
“The little Mexican cleaning lady.”
Charlotte turned again, but the car was gone. “Are you sure?”
“Looked like her. Who knows? They all look the same.”
He laughed and Charlotte’s lip curled.
Such a terrible person.
Without announcing his intention to leave, Jack turned and walked toward a golf cart parked ten feet down a blacktop path.
“John, let’s get back to it,” he called.
Charlotte frowned.
I guess we’re done.
Another man wearing golf shoes shifted his attention toward the golf cart before peeling from the crowd to join Jack. Jack rolled past the crowd, waving at Charlotte with a sort of half-hearted salute as he headed back to the course.
Charlotte moved back to Frank.
“Seems pretty straightforward here,” he said as she approached.
“I don’t know.”
Frank looked at her, seeming suddenly tired. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I just saw Jack Canton from this morning.”
It took Frank a moment to place the name. “The neighbor?”
She nodded. “He was in the crowd watching. Said he was playing golf and rode over to see what was up.”
“That’s quite a coincidence.”
“Exactly what I’m thinking. But that’s not the half of it. He saw the woman who found the body this morning, too.”
“Here?”
She nodded. “I didn’t get a good look at her, but he seemed pretty sure.” She recalled his racist comment and decided not to repeat it for Frank.
“Huh. I suppose you’d like a peek around the scene?” he asked.
“Don’t you?”
“Yes. But that’s my job.”
Charlotte laughed. “I mean, I’m here. I might as well...”
“Come on.”
Frank led her up the driveway as the ambulance pulled away and the crowd began to disperse. The dead man’s garage was neat, its edges lined with the usual array of garage things: buckets, re-purposed kitchen cabinets, recycle bins and trash cans. Against one wall sat a stack of water bottles, 24-packs stacked five high and three wide.
“Water hoarder,” said Charlotte.
Frank nodded. “I’d say so. He looks like a distributor.”
Charlotte thought about Gloria and her revenge on the hoarders. The crazy little lady had been out shopping when she arrived at Frank’s.
But no shopping bags.
She looked at the water again.
What if Gloria didn’t go shopping? What if she came here?
Was she killing people now?
Charlotte shook her head. The thought was crazy.
The center of the garage was empty, and Charlotte imagined the Lexus in the driveway was usually parked inside. She guessed the wife had pulled up, opened the garage door from inside the car, saw her husband on the ground and parked.
Near the garage entrance to the house a gas generator sat beneath an open electrical panel, a red gas can beside it. Directions for the generator were splayed on the ground next to it.
Charlotte squatted down to read. “Looks like it’s some sort of kit to connect a generator to an electrical panel. You’d think someone handy enough to attempt a job like this would know better than to run a gas generator in a closed area.”
“You’d think,” said Frank. “People don’t realize how fast they can be
