get away from California.”
They sipped their beers and studied the white towels. Nick said, “This really doesn’t make any sense. How could the dog get out in the middle of a major hurricane?”
“Maybe the damned thing had to pee,” Bob said. “Nelson let him out for a quick one, the dog got freaked out in the storm, got away, and Nelson panicked and tried to get him. That branch snapped and hit him in the head. I’ll bet he’s not the only fool who got hit by a falling limb last night. Bad timing. Bad luck.”
Bruce said, “He had just finished a novel. I wonder where the manuscript is.”
“Wow. That’s valuable stuff. Did you read it?” Nick asked.
“No, but I had promised to. He was just finishing the second draft. As far as I know, he had not sent it to New York.”
“It’s probably in his computer, don’t you think?”
“More than likely.”
Nick asked, “What happens to it?”
There was a long pause as they considered this. “Wasn’t he a lawyer?” Nick asked.
“He was, a big firm in San Francisco,” Bruce said. “I’m sure he has a will, and the will appoints an executor who’ll take charge of his affairs. It’ll be a mess.”
Bob said, “If he’s been here for two years then he’s likely to be a resident of Florida. Of course he is. He has Florida tags on his car. So wouldn’t the lawyer be here?”
“Hell if I know. He probably has, had, lawyer friends everywhere.”
Nick stepped into the condo and closed the door behind him.
Bob said, “We could wait here for hours, you know? These poor cops are chasing their tails right now.”
“We passed a bunch of National Guardsmen on the way over, so help has arrived.”
“What about your place?”
“Got lucky. Lots of downed limbs, no real damage. Nothing like around here.”
Bob said, “I should’ve left. Now I have to rip out carpets and drywall and shovel out mud and crap. A week with no electricity. Temps in the nineties. You have plenty of food?”
“I’m okay. I have a small generator so the beer is still cold. Come stay with me and Nick. There’s food, and when it’s gone we’ll go looting, have some fun.”
“Thanks.”
Nick cracked the door and said, “Hey, fellas, come take a look.”
They walked into the den where Nick lit a wall with a flashlight. Bob asked, “Where’d you get that?”
“Found it on the sofa. Look at those specks next to the bookshelves. Could be dried blood. There’s more on those books just to the right there.”
Bruce took the flashlight and examined the wall. There were eight to ten dark specks of something, perhaps blood. Perhaps not. But whatever the substance there was no way that Nelson or his housekeeper, if he had one, would have allowed the stains to remain where they were. Bob examined them and shook his head.
“Follow me,” Nick said, and they walked down a narrow hall to the bathroom. He lit the vanity and said, “See those pinkish stains beside the faucet? Could’ve been left behind by someone trying to wash away bloodstains.”
“You read a lot of crime novels?” Bob asked.
“Hundreds. They’re my favorite.”
“So where’s the bloody hand towel or rag or whatever?” Bruce asked.
“Gone. There was no electricity, but the hot water pressure would’ve worked until the tank ran dry. Our suspect couldn’t toss the hand towel in the washing machine because it wasn’t working. And it’s empty now. He couldn’t leave behind the evidence, so he simply left with it.”
“Our suspect?” Bruce asked.
“Indulge me here. This could be serious.”
“It’s already serious,” Bob said.
“Got that.”
Bruce said, “You’re thinking somebody came over here in the