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““Sorry to drag you down here,” the cop apologized. “I loved your shots of the firehouse fundraiser. The Advocate used to print pictures of fingers and thumbs. Nice to know the town paper is stepping up.”
“Thank you.” She smiled politely, then wheeled toward her son. “Marcus, what’s this all about?”
Marcus remained silent, so Deluca filled Mrs. Jordan in on the details of the sugaring of K.O. Pest Control, including some colorful descriptions of “a writhing mountain of insects a foot deep,” and “a creeping, buzzing, chirping sound you hear in your innards.”
Marcus spoke up at last. “It wasn’t all me, Mom. I was just helping the main guy who did it.”
The officer nodded understandingly. “See, I believe that. But you’ve got to give me a name. Unless I know the identity of this ‘main guy,’ you’re him.”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Was it the girl?” Deluca probed. “She’s a cute one—is that who you’re covering for?”
“No—definitely not Alyssa.”
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