Sucker Punch (Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter #27) - Laurell K. Hamilton Page 0,212

the street now, and you’re on the other side of me just like you wanted. Problem solved for now.”

He frowned at me and then said, “I do not like caring about such petty things.”

“No one does,” I said.

“What petty things are we caring about?” Edward asked.

I looked at the bigger man. “Are you okay with me explaining to him?”

I think I surprised Olaf. “You would keep secrets from him for me?”

“Not big ones, but I’ll give you this one.”

“I wanted to walk on the other side of Anita but was unsure how to move Newman without social repercussions.” Olaf’s voice was empty of emotion as he said it, almost matter-of-fact. Again, he surprised me by being willing to be so honest. I knew a lot of people with a full set of working emotions who would never have been that straightforward.

Edward raised his eyebrows behind his sunglasses, then gave his best Ted smile. “Well, now, I appreciate you sharing that, pardner, and I’ll help out in the future when I can.”

I looked at Edward then, and wondered exactly what kind of help he had in mind, but I let it go, because Olaf liked the answer.

“Thank you,” the big guy said.

“Oh, don’t thank me yet, pardner, but let’s go up to the house and help look for clues.”

Edward came to stand on one side of me and started walking. I moved with him, and Olaf fell into step beside me so we walked down the street three abreast like some old-time Western movie. Newman fell in on the other side of Edward as we continued up the street. The four of us walked down the middle of the street like we owned it. I had a flashback to all those old Westerns I used to watch with my dad in which the good guys walked up the street to meet the bad guys for that final showdown. I knew from reading real history that that wasn’t how gunfighting worked and the most successful lawmen of the Old West hid and shot at the bad guys from cover, but that wouldn’t have looked nearly as good on the screen.

“Why are you smiling?” Olaf asked.

I shared the thought with everyone.

“I like it. Those old movies are part of why I wanted to be a cop when I was a little boy,” Newman said.

“Except in the movies we’d be walking up for the final showdown now,” Edward said.

“And in real police work, we don’t even know who the bad guys are yet,” Newman said, and he wasn’t smiling now.

“If we find the murder weapon here today, we’ll have our murderers,” Edward said.

“But there’s no triumphant march to justice if it’s Todd and Muriel,” Newman said.

“It’s not about triumph, Newman. It’s about saving the innocent and punishing the wicked,” Edward said.

“That sounds biblical,” Newman said.

“Well, you do have three out of the Four Horsemen,” I said.

“Are you saying that your vengeance comes in biblical proportions?” Newman asked, and he almost laughed.

“It can be,” Olaf said.

Edward and I just nodded. Newman stopped laughing and glanced at the three of us as if trying to decide if we were teasing him.

68

AN HOUR LATER I was standing in the middle of what had started the day as a master bedroom, but now looked like a fabric-and-homes-good store after a big sale. The pillows, comforter, sheets, et cetera were piled knee-deep, as if I had to wade through white-and-tan-flowered snow. I could glimpse the walk-in closet past the bedclothes. It looked like everything had been dumped on the floor. I wondered if the officers who had searched the closet understood that the clothes were probably the most expensive things in the house. Muriel was one of those people who wore or drove her money so people could see it. The house and the furnishings were nice in that modern way, but not as nice as the clothes she wore, the Porsche SUV, and the Jaguar parked in the three-car garage. I hadn’t even known that Porsche made an SUV. The Jaguar was a beautiful, sleek machine, but the SUV looked like all the other SUVs on the road, so paying Porsche prices seemed silly to me, but then I wasn’t a label whore. I wouldn’t automatically pay more because a designer or a high-end name was attached to a car or a piece of clothing. Some designers made great wearable art, but my day-to-day living didn’t really lend itself to wearing art. Jean-Claude despaired of my never truly