I tried it out on Vida first, after we got back to the office. She grew thoughtful. “What's Skye saying? That Blake gave his brother-in-law the job? Is that illegal?” Vida was speaking more to the air than to me. “Or that Scott Melville was afraid Blake and Stan would tell everyone he was responsible for faulty buildings, so he's killing them both off? That makes no sense. Why would they hire him in the first place?” “I know it's odd,” I said, sorting through the half-dozen phone messages that had accumulated in our twenty-minute absence. “I can't figure out why Skye told me this stuff in the first place.” Dispensing with her troublesome hat, Vida turned toward her typewriter. “You might as well tell Milo. I can't see that it does any harm.” I agreed, then decided to deliver the news in person. The phone messages were probably from people curious about the shooting, the mail still hadn't arrived, and inspiration hadn't yet struck for my editorial. Noting that the fog had lifted and the drizzle had stopped, I quickly covered the two blocks to the sheriff's office.
