Catch As Cat Can

                "Neat. Small caliber." Rick opened the door a crack again, inspecting the wound."Twenty-two, I'd reckon."

                "Whoever it was walked right up to him," Chris theorized."The driver's window wasn't down. The door was closed. So the door had to be opened, perhaps by Clatterbuck himself, bam, then the killer closes the door and drives off. Swift. No sign of struggle."

                "Well, Don wasn't looking for it." Rick sighed."Your people might as well take the body away. I appreciate you calling me. You'll keep the Cowboys windbreaker for evidence, too? You see, we've been looking for this particular truck and windbreaker."

                "I don't suppose there was anything in the pockets that-" Coop hoped against hope.

                "A matchbook. We dusted it. Here." He handed it to Coop, who bent over to shelter it from the downpour.

                Beautifully colored with turquoise, airbrushed orange, and yellow with squibbles of purple, the matchbook was expensive to produce. Three inches by two inches, shiny coated paper, the proprietor intended to make an upscale statement."Roy and Nadine's," with the Y of Roy as a martini glass, announced the restaurant in Lexington, Kentucky. The address, Palomar Center, Harrodsburg Pike and Man-O-War Drive, was printed on the back. The phone number was printed under the address.

                Rick huddled next to Coop."Don't jump to conclusions."

                "I'm not but if this matchbook belongs to Partlow maybe he's from Kentucky."

                "We sent the fingerprints out nationally," Rick replied.

                "Doesn't mean he's got a record." She noted that at the bottom of the matchbook, the black lip had printed in white ink, "Contemporary American Cuisine." The R in the restaurant's name was printed in yellow, the A in deep orange, and the N was hot pink."Great design. I'll call the restaurant." She walked back to the squad car, scribbled down the information, then emerged into the deluge, handing the matchbook back to Sheriff Zakarios.

                "Know much about the victim?" the Culpeper sheriff asked.

                "Friendly. No record. A relaxed kind of guy."

                Coop answered the good-looking, trim Culpeper sheriff."It's hard to imagine anyone wanting to kill him."

                "Half of what we do comes back to drugs." The sheriff squinted as the rain blew sideways."Maybe he had a secret life."

                "It's a damn national epidemic." Rick stepped away from the GMC as the ambulance crew pulled out the body."Coop, get the license plate number."

                "Yeah." She had written down the letters and numbers the minute she got out of the squad car. The license plate, white with blue raised numbers, appeared much older than the truck itself but it had the correct registration stickers on the upper left-hand and upper right-hand corners. She slipped inside the squad car, ran the information, and within minutes was back out."Nothing. This license plate is from before computer records. Carol Grossman will check back in the files. But the stickers are certainly current. And there's no way you can peel them off another vehicle's plate without tearing the stickers."

                "We've got a homicide. The victim was reported driving this truck."

                "Kid hanging from a tree." Sheriff Zakarios stroked his long, square chin."That's a hell of a note. So is this."

                "Thanks for the call." Rick Shaw clapped Zak's back.

                "I'll help in any way I can."

                One of Zak's deputies called to him while wrapping the pileated woodpecker in plastic."Good work."

                "He did very good work." Cooper sighed. Don was a likeable man, clearly a man who had either been in the wrong place at the wrong time or had been involved in something she couldn't fathom right then. But she and Rick would figure it out. They usually did, and she always came to the same conclusion: it's easier to keep your nose to the grindstone and be honest. But she couldn't imagine what Don could have done that was dishonest. As far as she knew, criminals had no need of taxidermy skills.

                As they climbed back into the squad car, Rick tossed his hat in the back, droplets flinging outward. Coop threw hers back there, too.

                "I'll have to get my hat blocked. I forgot my plastic hat cover." "Those things look awful." She shivered in her seat."Chill?"

                "Yeah. Soaked to the bone."

                "Me, too, but I've more protection." He pinched his spare tire, which was decreasing slowly. Rick struggled with dieting. The temptation was to roll into a fast-food joint.

                "When we get back I'd better tell Harry her woodpecker has been impounded."

                "This woodpecker is news to me. She shooting woodpeckers out there? Isn't that against the law?" He winked.

                "Found it dead by the back porch. Actually, the cats found it."

                "Those cats of hers." Rick laughed."She'd better enlist them for Social Security numbers given all the work they do." He turned left down Route 29. After about five minutes he asked, "Any ideas?"

                "The truck ties them together. Weird." She lapsed into silence and then spoke again."I'll track down Lottie Pearson, too."

                "Why?"

                "She dragged Don to Mim's charity dance."