Billy took possession and grinned.
“Don’t get too excited, Billy, she’s old enough to be your grandmother.”
“Not mine, Nick. Trust me,” eyes glued to the only slightly faded photo.
After again giving Wilson a warning about telling anyone about the tree, we returned to the Chief’s office, passed around the Playboy centerfold – Carrie Radison, a hot red head -- and put the piece of clay into an evidence box, Forte stashing it in a small safe behind his desk.
Sal and I climbed into the Vic and returned to Willow Weep.
“I’m hungry.”
“Sal, are you ever not hungry?”
Smile. “Nope. Think it’s a psychological thing. Something about being shot, being chased by a lunatic in a Honda, that little jousting stunt with the two of you shooting at each other out open windows and Forte bluffing Wilson with that fake subpoena. Makes me hungry.”
“The subpoena thing was pretty smart, actually.”
“Good thing Wilson didn’t push it. Pretty embarrassing if he’d seen the bank’s letter that the Chief was overdrawn on his checking account.”
We pulled into the gravel drive and parked. Both of us climbed out of the Vic and headed for the rear deck which was closest to the kitchen and coffee maker.
At the table, Cookie and Tatiana were hunched over, looking at the two halves of the clay egg.
“Hi ladies,” Sal called. “Whatcha doing?”
I leaned over and kissed Cookie on the top of her head. She had a small LED flashlight and was playing the beam inside the egg.
“This is beautiful, Nick.”
“What is?”
“Inside this clay thing. The map.”
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