In the semidarkness of Malcolm's office, at the Invicta, Paul took a seat. "I came prepared. Here's dinner, plus a midnight snack," Paul said. "I know something's up." He began to count the points he made on each finger. "One: You didn't go fishing as you said you would. Two: You called me in on my baseball night. And three: You left a message saying it was urgent. Malcolm, you never say things are urgent. This has to be a beauty." Paul smiled and set three boxes down on Malcolm's desk, rested his chin on his hand and looked up at Malcolm quizzically.
"What's with all the food, for just the two of us? And wine, no less," Malcolm said, avoiding answering Paul's questions for the moment.
"Two of us? Where's Joe? He should like pizza, too. And it's just two pizzas. The third box is the snack-a just baked strawberry pie I picked up at the Farmers Market."
"Joe's kid got hurt. He had to take him to the emergency room at the hospital, though I don't think it's too bad."
Paul popped the cork on the fiasco of Chianti and took a swig from it, then opened a pizza box and pulled a slice free. He waved the bottle at Malcolm.
"You drink from the bottle?" Malcolm asked.
"Hey, you got pizza delivery from the pizza boy. You don't have a butler. Get your own glass." He took another sip. "Besides, I like to discourage people from drinking my wine. I hate to share." He grinned.
Malcolm closed the file in front of him and took a slice of pizza, then gestured for Paul to pass the wine. As he did so, Paul lifted the cover of the file. "Tanya. Something happen to her? Is she hurt?"
"No, she's fine. She was incredibly lucky, but Edda wasn't."
"What happened?"
"An electronic device was set to go off on Tanya's easel at a certain time. Someone knew that, around five o'clock, she would start her afternoon painting session. Outside, in front of the main entrance." Malcolm paused and sipped from the fiasco, then passed it back to Paul. "She gathered her paints, sketches and thinner on the easel and left. Went to the beach. Swimming, for God's sake. Left by herself." Malcolm scowled as if Tanya were there and he could scold her for being a naughty child. "If she had pressed any button of the easel, a spark of thirty-thousand volts would have blasted out, killing her instantly. Something-we don't know what yet-something triggered that blast: it ignited the thinner and paints. Edda-she can't talk yet-probably saw smoke and rushed there…" He took a deep breath. "Then, another mystery. Edda was shot. By somebody in the house. At close range."