"Now why would you want to go and do a thing like that?"
Nigel's words gave me pause. I pulled my fingers out of the guy's eye sockets and thought for a bit.
Now why exactly did I jab my fingernails into his forebrain through his eyes?
I could feel Nigel's impatience, like a sadistic professor willing to let the entire class suffer as the called-upon idiot tries to sweat out an answer. I've never been the bright one of the bunch. Knowing this fact hasn't made me any brighter, just more self-conscious.
"Because, uh," I ventured, "He was screaming and I wanted him to stop."
"Good answer. But do you remember why he was screaming?"
"Heh. That's an easy one: because you were going at his scrotum with those dental explorers."
"Yes, that's right. And why was I applying stainless steel to his bean bag?"
"Because, oh, because we were torturing him." I knew I'd finally figured it out. I could almost feel myself deflate.
"And we were torturing him because..."
"We need to find out where he hid the Master's croquet mallet."
"Exactly! And how the fuck do you propose to get that out of him now?"
I felt pretty bad. It's not like I enjoy killing people.
"It's not like I enjoy killing people," I told Nigel.
"Well you coulda fooled me." He gestured at the corpse. "And I don't think he's buying it either. What the hell are we going to do now?"
Yep. I felt pretty bad. I'd messed things up and I'd also killed the guy. It's not exactly my strong suit, but I decided to think a way out of this. Nigel was idly kicking at the body.
"Well, we could catch his wife and kids, squeeze them for a bit, and hope we get something out of them."
"What the h… Actually, that's not a bad idea. Of course, it's what we usually end of doing anyway. Check this dead loser for ID, will ya?"
I patted the body down and found a wallet in a back pocket. Luckily, I got to it before the sphincters let go. Nigel would've been tickled if I'd had to deal with that.
I found the guy's drivers license. There was a picture of the guy with his eyes. The license said they'd been brown. It also said that Alan Proctor lived at 2563 Splendid Lane.
*
Nigel and I pulled up to the Proctor homestead later that afternoon. 2563 Splendid Lane didn't look any more splendid that the other lanes, courts, and avenues in the new development.
Nigel shut the engine off and turned towards me.
"I'll do the talking," he said.
"Sure, Nige."
*
Nigel didn't even let me knock on the door. Knocking on the door is always my job. Nigel must've been really mad.
A lady answered. Through the screen door we could see she wore standard issue parent uniform: extra large T-shirt, sweats, and slippers. Her brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail. Even though she wasn't wearing any makeup, you could see that she was pretty. We could hear shouting children somewhere behind her.
"Good afternoon. Mrs. Proctor?" Nigel sounded nice and smooth.
"Yes."
"We're... uh... we're..." I couldn't believe my ears. Nige was stumped. I jumped in.
"Alan's coworkers. We were hoping to have a word with you."
"Oh. Coworkers? Is Alan OK?"
Alan shot me a glance. "Yes, he's fine. May we come in?"
"Couldn't we talk right here?"
"Well, it is rather sensitive." Nige had his stride back.
"Then can I see some ID?"
Nige and I both pulled out our wallets with the FBI badges. We'd left the others in the car.
Mrs. Proctor squinted as she examined our ID through the screen.
Satisfied, she pushed the door open for us.
"OK, come on in guys. Sorry I was so standoffish. I was just drawing a bath for the kids."
Just in case we hadn't believed her, two naked kids galumphed past the entryway.
"Please, call me Mary."
"Hello Mary. I'm Nigel. This is Simon."
I gave a little nod and smile.
"Let's sit in the dining room. Can I get you two something to drink?"
"Oh, no thank you. We shouldn't be long."
Mary shoved a few piles of toys around to make room and we settled around a small oak table.
I waited for Nige to start his spiel. The kids sounded like they were trying to knock down a wall somewhere in the house.
Finally, Mary started with an awkward "So…"
Nigel kicked in again.
"I don't mean to be unpleasant Mary."
"Unpleasant?"
"Yes it's just a shame that… Alan… uh…"
Mary's eyebrows scrintched with concern.
"Shame? Look, if Alan is in trouble, just let me know. Please, just get to the point. Two FBI agents don't just show up at my door out of the blue. I've been married to Alan long enough to know that that is not standard Bureau procedure."
As Mary rattled away, I watched Nige. He looked like he'd blanked again.
"Um… Mary, what Nigel is trying to get at, is there's a little matter that could be a big thing, but we're hoping we can keep it from being a big thing."
I could see that Mary was still worried. Nige wasn't saying anything, so I asked. "Did Alan bring anything home from work recently?"
"Oh! That! The hammer thing? Yes, over there by the fireplace."
Nigel and I both looked. The croquet mallet stood in a holder with a bunch of fireplace tools.
Nige stood up with a satisfied smile. "Ah, that is exactly what we were looking for."
"Alan said he found it in the back seat of his car. He thought it might've been somebody's at Bureau. He put it there by the fireplace so he wouldn't forget it on his way to work."
*
I followed Nigel to the car. He rested the mallet jauntily on his shoulder.
"How about that, Simon? We didn't even have to make any puncture wounds." He was pretty happy. "And just think, when we get back, the Master might be persuaded to show some gratitude. We might even get a few days at the resort."
"Uh… Nige, I don't want to rain on anyone's parade, but wouldn't the Master have to know that we lost the mallet in the first place?"
Nigel was quiet now.
"Nige?"
"Just get in the car!"
Pakeha