I’ll hit 50K before Thanksgiving, at this rate. Which is nice. Real nice.
What was happening, according to Dr. Taboada, was a nightmare in slow motion. He didn’t get along with Dr. Campbell lately — he said that right away, probably because he figured we’d hear that anyway — and tonight had started with them yelling at each other during what was supposed to be a working dinner and ended with the victim getting murdered right in front of him. “He had left the restaurant, with some anger,” Taboada told me. “I was inclined at first to let him do so, but then I remembered my situation.”
“Situation, Doctor? – And what was the fight about, anyway?”
“It was a professional matter, Dete- Shamus. I would rather not say.”
I started rubbing the base of my nose. “Okay. Okay. Look, can we not do this?”
“Your pardon?” Taboada looked at me with confusion.
“Sorry. It’s just that I’ve done this dance before,” I explained. “There’s something you don’t want to tell me, because it’ll maybe get you in trouble. So you don’t tell me, and then you do get in trouble, only it’s gonna be even worse trouble. And when I finally find it out anyway, I get to turn to you and say ‘You should have told me this from the start!’” I glared at him. “So. Tell me from the start.”