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Gibralter was, it was clear that beneath that starchy exterior buzzed a Byzantine brain.
    A meeting of the minds. Shit, maybe that was why he had been hired.
     
     
     
     
     

CHAPTER 4
     
    Louis lingered on the porch until the moon scuttled behind a cloud, then he went back inside the cabin.  He stood for a moment, looking at his suitcase sitting on the bed then went to the kitchen.  Grabbing a Heineken from the refrigerator, he popped it open and took a long drink as he surveyed his new home.
    The placed was a little shabby but not bad for two hundred a month.  The moment the real estate agent had unlocked the door Louis had liked the place. The furniture was utilitarian, standard-issue rental stuff.  But the wood floors, rough-hewn walls and log-beamed ceiling had a certain rustic charm.  It was the fireplace that had cinched it, though, a huge stone thing dusty with soot and cobwebs.  The agent was barely out the door with the signed lease before Louis was out back gathering wood.
    It took four tries but now a fire was blazing, softening the dark corners and dissipating the mildew smell with the sweet scent of burning wood.  Louis looked down at the rug in front of the fireplace.  It was a bear rug, dusty brown and pocked with moth holes.  He had found it rolled up in the closet.  It smelled like dirty sweat socks but he doused it with some foot powder from his ditty bag and it had settled down.  The taxidermist had given the bear a maniacal grin, and as Louis stared down into the animal’s glassy eyes, he found himself smiling.
    Damn, he liked this place.
    He took a swig of the beer.  Settling down the bottle, he went outside to get some more firewood.
    It was quiet — no wind, no animal sounds.  He stopped, staring out at the frozen lake.  The strong pine scent pricked his nostrils, reminding him for a moment of Mississippi.  But the air was different here, cleaner, fresher, like just taking it in made you healthier.
    As he gathered up logs, he thought of the portrait of Pryce back at the station.  The irony of his situation was almost too strange.  He had landed again in a small town, this time replacing another young cop.  A black cop.  A black cop who wore size sixteen shirts and spit polished his badge.  Louis shivered and started back to the front of the cabin.
    He heard footsteps and stopped.  He turned and saw a figure out near the shoreline.  He strained in the half-light of the moon, but could only make out a silhouette.  It was a jogger, a girl.  She was short and slender, and her ponytail bounced rhythmically with each stride.  He watched her until she disappeared into the pines then he went back inside.  What kind of place was this that a girl could feel safe enough to jog alone at night?
    Inside, he dropped logs on the hearth.  Standing to arch his back, his eye caught the photograph of the Pryce boy sitting on the mantel.
    A meeting of the minds...Well, if Jesse was any indication, Gibralter wasn’t happy with the way the Pryce case had been handled so far.  Maybe he would welcome a new perspective.  What did he have to lose?  He wanted to work the case and there was only one way to get to it: Come right out and ask.
    He glanced at his watch.  Just after nine.  Jesse had said that Gibralter stayed late at the station.  He grabbed his keys and University of Michigan jacket and headed out.
     
     
     
    There was no one manning the dispatch desk when Louis got to the station.  A steaming mug of coffee, a paperback and a bag of Pepperidge Farm Milano cookies told him Edna had temporarily abandoned her post.
    Louis went to Gibralter’s door, tapped on the glass and poked his head in.  The chief looked up quickly.
    Louis continued on in.  “Good evening, sir, I — ”
    Gibralter slammed a drawer shut.  “Kincaid, are you a mental deficient?”
    Louis stopped cold.  “Sir?”
    “Why the hell didn’t you knock? I told you when I hired you don’t enter without