Page 223 of The Texas Sterling Collection
“Goodbye, kid.” The gruff voice growled as a gloved hand reached for the hair dryer on the top of the toilet tank, turned it on, and dropped it into the bathwater.
The lights in the flat dimmed, and the specter fled into the night.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
“Healy, get in here!” O’Brien shouted, scanning the report that hit his desk mid-morning.
“Aye, Chief?”
“Rafferty’s dead. When he didn’t come to class, one of his friends went to his flat and found him in the tub with a hair dryer.”
Surprise crossed Healy’s brow. “Another death? And after he brought us information? The timing is certainly coincidental, Chief.”
“Exactly, Healy. I’m going to the flat complex to talk with the neighbors. Someone may have seen something.”
“Aye, Chief.”
“This report says a Garrett Burke found him and called Gardaí. Let’s get Mr. Burke in for questioning.”
“Should we have someone else talk with him, Chief?” Healy suggested. “We’ve already stirred the pot by having a group of students come to the station. Rafferty’s two visits may have indirectly caused his untimely death.”
“Good point, Healy. Remind me to send your wife flowers.”
“I’m gay, sir,” Healy reminded O’Brien. “My boyfriend prefers cigars.”
O’Brien ignored the comment and went on. “Fill Glenn Cross in and have him contact Burke. We should be able to get what we need that way.”
“Yes, sir.” Healy turned to leave O’Brien’s office.
“Healy!” O’Brien said gruffly. Healy faced the Chief.
“I know about Todd…your boyfriend.” O’Brien used a considerably softer tone. He truly valued Healy’s service. “I didn’t mean anything by my comment.”
“I know, sir, but thank you for clarifying.”
Healy went to his desk, called Glenn Cross, and gave him the information about Garrett Burke.
* * *
There was a knock at Rod and Wyl’s door. Rod checked the peephole, and it was Glenn. He opened the door.
“You have something for me?” Glenn asked.
“Well, good morning to you, too, Glenn,” Rod stepped back to let Glenn enter.
“Sorry, Rod. Sometimes I get too focused. Good morning.”
“Hi, Glenn.” Wyl stood. “I printed out the overall course project outline Ailbe sent. I have a copy for myself and made a copy for O’Brien.” Wyl handed Glenn the envelope. “I marked a few relevant spots. See that he gets it.”
“Will do.” Glenn took the envelope. “By the way, there’s been another death.”
“What?” The loudness of Rod’s voice matched his wide eyes and open mouth.
Wyl snaked his arms around Rod’s waist from behind. “Who was the victim?”
“Fergus Rafferty,” Glenn said. “He was found dead in his flat this morning.”
“What was the cause of death?” Rod’s voice trembled.
