Page 69 of Killer on the First Page
“Elementary, my dear Fran.”
A snide voice from the doorway. Everyone turned, surprised by the figure silhouetted at the threshold. It was Luckless Lachlan himself, leaning against the jamb, arms crossed, head tilted, emanating arrogance.
“This is an active crime scene,” Ned said. “Stay back.”
Lachlan let his arms drop from his chest and said, with an airy indifference, “Oh yes. God forbid I interfere with your crackinvestigation. Except, maybe, to point out the solution. But if you’re not interested, fine, I’ll leave.”
He made a big production of turning away in his oversized winter jacket and ridiculous flapped cap.
With a sigh, Ned said, “Okay, shoot. You got a theory, let’s hear it.”
“Not atheory, an inevitability. This room was locked, correct? No access from the outside. So if Mr. DePoy was murdered, the killer must have been in here with him.”
“No shit, Sherlock,” said Officer Holly, already tired of him.
“You’re forgetting that Tillamook is a saltwater bay. A deep bay, one that I assume is kept clear by dredgers. Dredgers that employ—aha!—magnets. Giant magnets that scour the floor of the inlet to retrieve discarded metal, and the roof of this lighthouse is, I assume for the sake of my theory, metallic.”
Holly said, “For the love of Pete, tell me you’re not suggesting...”
“A giant magnet! On a boat! Raised above the lighthouse, the magnet is used to turn the entire building like a corkscrew. The building is round, remember. Once the killer has slipped out through the gap that has opened up under the wall, the building is thenscrewed back into place!”
A long pause.
“Get out,” said Holly.
“If you find the dredger with the magnet, you find the killer!” said Lachlan. “It’s that simple.”
“Get out before I taser you.”
Ned tutted. “Now, now, Officer Holly, what have I said about threatening people with your taser just because they’re annoying you?”
“Just one zap, Ned. Please.”
“Fine,” said Lachlan, head high. “I know when I’m not welcome.”
“Do you, though?” Holly asked.
“If someone will run me down to my motel, I shall be on my way.”
“I thought you were going to walk there,” said Andrew.
“With a killer on the loose? To say nothing of bears?”
“Won’t find many bears in Happy Rock,” said Doc Meadows, who was finishing up with the body. “Too shy. They stick mainly to the coast farther north. They scoop the salmon right outta the creeks. A sight to see.” He peeled off his latex gloves. “I’ll call the morgue, get someone up here.”
“We can run Lachlan down to the motel,” said Miranda. “Unless you’d like to toss that lucky coin of yours for it, Ned.”
Ned was photographing each of the tents Holly had laid out. “I’m good. You take him.”
Miranda stopped. Something Doc had said stirred thoughts in her. Salmon. Trout. Cutthroats and record catches.
“Doc,” she asked, “would you ever go fishing with someone you didn’t like? On the Nestucca River, say.”
Ned looked up, answered for him. “Y’only fish with friends, right, Doc?”
“Absolutely. If you’re gonna spend a week upriver with someone, it’s got to be someone whose company you enjoy.”
Ned beamed because Ned and Doc went fishing on the Nestucca every year. Occasionally, they’d ask Edgar or Owen along, but Edgar always got bored by the second day, and Owen was more interested in eating the salmon than catching it, so it was mainly just Doc and Ned.
