Page 9 of A Dark and Stormy Night

The tourists craned their necks.

Cornelia realized she’d been too loud. A little more quietly, she said, “Rainbow, I have a question.”

Rainbow sidled over. “I wasn’t sure you knew my name.”

Cornelia was confused. “Of course. Everyone knows your name.”

“Okay, hon, don’t worry about it.” But Rainbow watched her with a pucker between her brows. “What do you need?”

“If you knew someone was going to commit a murder, what would you do?”

“Stop it.”

“How?”

“I’d knock ‘em out with a swift slam to the cranium.”

Rainbow said it with such relish, Cornelia believed her. “No. I mean — if you’d overheard a murder being plotted, what would you do?”

“Oh.” Rainbow frowned as she thought. “Tell the cops. They’re the strong-arm enforcers of our capitalist government, but they do have their uses.”

Eagerly, Cornelia asked, “Which cops? The state patrol? The county sheriff? The Virtue Falls police?”

“Depends on where the murder is going to be committed.”

“I don’t know where. It’s local. That’s all I know.”

“Then probably the sheriff.” Rainbow placed her hand on her outthrust hip. “You writing a book?”

“No. Why would you think that?”

“Why are you asking about the cops?”

Patiently, Cornelia said, “Because someone’s going to commit a murder.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know.”

Rainbow eyed her up and down. “How do you…? No, never mind. Don’t tell me. What else do you need? Milk? Pie? Free advice for weird shit?”

“No.” Cornelia closed her computer and put it and her tablet in her backpack. She rolled up her desk mat, took her number-two pencils and put them, one by one into the proper slots. “I know what to do now.”

Rainbow watched her in bewilderment. “You never leave until four thirty-seven.”

“That’s when Mason comes to get me. I need to report this crime before he arrives.”

“He’d wait for you … since you’re reporting a potential crime.”

Rainbow viewed Cornelia with such concern, Cornelia knew she was honestly worried. About Mason, she supposed. "There’s no need for Mason to wait. I’m sure the sheriff will handle the matter competently.”

“Yeah. Because that’s Sheriff Foster.” Rainbow sneered. “Competent.”

Cornelia didn’t know what Rainbow meant by that, but in fact, she was used to not understanding subtexts in conversation. Another reason why she preferred nonverbal communication.

Taking her backpack, Cornelia stood and walked out the door, leaving Rainbow staring worriedly after her.

September had turned the maple leaves yellow, and a few drifted and swirled as they dropped to the ground. The sun hung low on the southern horizon, and the Pacific Ocean put a nip in the air. Cornelia shivered, stopped and pulled a wrinkled white sweater out of her backpack. She hadn’t worn it since last spring, but she kept it with her. Sooner or later, winter always arrived.

---