James Smith - Hybrid

He gulped his drink as he scanned the other diners. “I really don’t want to talk about this here. Let’s have a quiet dinner right now. I’d like to talk about other things.”

The waiter showed up at the table for the third time and she glared back at him. “Okay, look… why don’t you just bring us an appetizer? I don’t know, maybe something that Venetians enjoy?”

“Some bread and Caponatina would be nice,” Corey said with an uneasy smile. When the waiter left, Claire reached for Corey’s wine, finished it off, and dabbed her lips with a napkin.

“Forget about the past,” she said. “That’s not what this is about. I asked you about the photographer.”

“We don’t know yet what caused his death.”

“Are you even looking at the possibility of wolves?”

He glanced at the other tables to see if anyone was straining to listen in. The last thing he was going to do was to give even a hint about the experts they were bringing on board to tackle the very problem she was raising.

She picked up her white linen napkin and squeezed it in her fists. “You’re lying to me.”

“Why the hell would I lie to you?”

“Because you don’t want to face the truth. Operation Wolfstock didn’t make it, Jack. You’ve got to face it once and for all.”

He reached out and touched her arm. “Claire, please. Keep your voice down.”

“The wolves have got to go. They’re terrorizing the entire area.”

“I briefed Gilmer this morning. We’re going to get on it.”

“You’re going to get on it? When do you plan to start?”

“Soon. It’s in the works.”

She flung her napkin down onto the table. “In the works?”

“I’ve got priorities. The busiest weekend of the year is coming up. You know that.”

“Let me tell you what I know. I’m getting to the bottom of this, and I don’t give a damn where the story leads.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

She got up from her seat. “Never mind. Sorry, I’m just not hungry.”

Corey reached for her arm. She swatted it away like a wasp and marched off.

He slammed his fist down on the table, knocking over the bottle of Merlot. That’s okay, he thought. He sat with the wine flooding the table and streaming onto the floor. She always overreacted; loved drama. She had been pushing too much of her ass into his business like she was a hotshot reporter who was going to get to the “truth.”

The truth was that he was in charge. Operation Wolfstock was his priority more than anyone’s. She’d been messing with him all along. Playing him for a fool. That game was over. She would learn soon enough that you don’t play that way with The Man.

WinslowMemorial Funeral Home stood isolated at the end of the block. Except for the town hall, it claimed the largest lot of any other building in town. Dieter learned from Josh that the Winslow family had settled Colter in the early part of the century and that the youngest of six sons had built the colonial brick structure over a three-year period in the 1950s.

More than one neighbor or friend of Josh’s had been “laid out” there.

“Edna Turley promised me she’d help me out tonight,” Josh said. “Edna’s worked as a clerk and assistant to David Godfrey Winslow going on twenty years, if she’s been there a day.” He pulled into a front parking space and flipped off his headlights.

Already dark, spotlights that were distributed among holly bushes highlighted the building and the garish sign in front. Only one dim light shone inside. Dieter still didn’t understand why they had to arrive so late, but left it to Josh’s judgment.

Josh twisted the knob on the front door, but it was locked. He banged on the door, but no one answered. He cupped his hands to stare through the stained glass, and then stepped back and shook his head. “Just don’t understand. She said she’d be here. Had plenty of bookkeeping to catch up on, she told me.”

He paced along the front porch, cussing under his breath as he peeked into every window until he realized the futility of it all. Although he wasn’t going to say it to Josh, Dieter felt a wave of relief. He followed his partner back to the pickup. Josh turned on the ignition and moved down the driveway to the street, mumbling to himself. Suddenly, he stopped and shoved the transmission into reverse, turned around, and pulled to the back of the building. He jumped out and gave a jerk on the doorknob of a back door. He strolled back to the truck. “Come on out, Doc. I’ve got an idea.”

Dieter didn’t like the sound of idea . Edna Turley wasn’t there. They’d been stood up. What else was there to do? He hopped down as Josh opened the glove compartment and retrieved a flathead screwdriver and a homemade strip of shaped sheet metal with a wooden handle.

Dieter couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “Wait a minute. I’m not going to—”

“Don’t worry about a thing.”

“This isn’t the way we planned it, Josh. I’m not about to risk getting in trouble with the law.”

“I’ll just say that Edna asked me to come out here for emergency repairs or something like that. For all I know she fainted or had a heart attack. Could be laying in there in need of medical attention and here we are no more than thirty feet away while she’s at death’s door. What would they think of us just driving away into the dark as if she was some kind of nobody who we don’t care about? Now how could we answer to that, Doc?”

Dieter looked away. It was a ridiculous development. He waited in the truck as Josh headed for the rear of the building. Josh must’ve known what they were getting into before they drove out. One hell of a trick to play on him. He had never given a waking thought to try any such shenanigans. He wanted to think long and hard about it, but there wasn’t a lot to think long and hard about. The only sane decision was clear. He should walk away—either that or run. Climbing down from the truck, he searched the darkness to make certain no passerby could see them and cautiously moved toward Josh at the rear of the building.

“They have the place alarmed, you know,” Dieter said. “There’s a warning sign out front that I saw when we drove up—some company’s Security System.”

Ignoring him, Josh jiggled and pried with his tools between the lock and doorjamb. He explained as he worked that Mr. Winslow was never happy with the alarm system that he had put in three years before. It was too easy to be set off by the wind. Edna said that it didn’t take too many calls in the middle of the night before Winslow lost his patience and disconnected the whole damn thing. He told her the warning signs were all they actually needed and he still kicked himself for buying all the wires and gadgets and electrical stuff that came with the stupid-ass signs.

“Look, Josh. Forgive me, but I don’t want to be an accomplice to breaking and entering.”

“Relax. We’re not breaking anything. We’re just entering.”

Dieter stood watch, prepared to run at the first sound of an alarm. He hitched his trousers up a notch because he didn’t want to get a cuff caught under his foot while he ran. He surveyed the vacant field behind the place as if expecting someone to leap out of the bushes.

The back door squeaked open.

Josh motioned for him to follow, but Dieter hesitated. Josh motioned again, this time waving urgently. Dieter looked around, now realizing it was too damned late. If he were going to leave, he should’ve left when Josh exited the truck with a set of burglar tools. He took one last deep breath and moved toward the open door.

When they entered, a dim light shone at the end of a dark corridor. He crept along behind Josh, placing each foot lightly on the carpeted floor while occasionally glancing back over his shoulder. Near the end of the hall, Josh stopped and held out his hand for Dieter to halt, then edged his head around the corner.