that I might have been followed last night. Kevin was interested to hear what the computer crimes detective had said yesterday.
When I finished, Jeff said, "Okay, let's recap. Your buddy dies under what the coroner refers to as 'odd' circumstances. Then you get a letter from said buddy, suggesting that he's in danger of some sort and passing his investigation of these two articles on to you. Then you request said articles and weird shit starts happening to you. Your computer goes wonky three days in a row, one of the doctors shows up in person to question you, another of the doctors shows up at the funeral and turns out to be your dead buddy’s boyfriend, you visit the scene of the death and your tires get slashed, and then someone follows you home last night. All of that sounds pretty suspicious to me."
"But there are alternate explanations of everything so far." Pete started ticking off on his fingers. "There's no evidence that Dan didn't die of a seizure. You said he'd had a head injury and had some emotional problems as a result; his paranoia could be explained that way. You saw your friend Diane using your computer; she could be punking you for some reason. The doctor that visited you told you that he was worried about patent infringement. The doctor at the funeral had reason to be there, assuming he really was the boyfriend. You said yourself that your tires might have been slashed because of your bumper sticker. And you also said yourself that the guy following you turned off well before you did, and you had decided he wasn't following you after all. Although..." He folded the fingers he'd been counting on into a fist. "The circumstantial evidence for something going on is starting to pile up."
Kevin: "But it is circumstantial. There's no solid evidence of anything yet."
Abby: "But there may be, after the UCLA cops finish with your computer."
Me: "Yeah, and I'm afraid that will show that Diane was responsible. That would be bad."
Jeff: "Have you found anything in the articles yet to explain what Dan might have been getting at?"
"Nope. Although, on the copy of the article I found in his desk, he had written BULLSHIT in capital letters over the top of the statistics section. I need to see if I can figure out what the statistics show and why he might have said that. But right now, that's all I have to go on."
"I might be able to help you with that." Pete glanced at me as he picked his way around a couple of rocks. "I did recently finish a dissertation for which I had to do a lot of stats. It's moderately fresh in my mind."
"That would be great. I was going to try to figure it out with help from the Internet, but I'm sure it won't take as long for you."
He laughed. "Well, I wouldn't be too sure about that, but I'll do my best."
We were back home by mid-afternoon after dropping Pete off. Jeff needed to start for home, and I was tired again. Kevin and Abby left again to go to Abby’s sister’s for a cookout. Abby had invited me, but I begged off. I’d spent my evenings reading this stupid medical article, and I was getting behind on my other reading. I had a new issue of the Journal of Scottish Historical Studies and a stack of books that were calling to me. I gathered drinks and snacks, propped pillows behind me, and settled in for an evening of reading.
I had dozed off with a book propped on my chest when a sound woke me.
I didn't move, listening to see if I heard it again. There was nothing for several seconds. Then I heard it again, a soft scratching sound, coming from our balcony.
We lived on the fourth floor of our building. It was dark out, but our balcony, like all the others at the complex, overlooked the small courtyard, if you could even call it that. Theoretically, no one should have been able to climb up without being seen…
I heard the sound again. I turned off the light behind my head, let my eyes adjust, and waited to see if I heard it again.
There it was.
I eased off the sofa as silently
When I finished, Jeff said, "Okay, let's recap. Your buddy dies under what the coroner refers to as 'odd' circumstances. Then you get a letter from said buddy, suggesting that he's in danger of some sort and passing his investigation of these two articles on to you. Then you request said articles and weird shit starts happening to you. Your computer goes wonky three days in a row, one of the doctors shows up in person to question you, another of the doctors shows up at the funeral and turns out to be your dead buddy’s boyfriend, you visit the scene of the death and your tires get slashed, and then someone follows you home last night. All of that sounds pretty suspicious to me."
"But there are alternate explanations of everything so far." Pete started ticking off on his fingers. "There's no evidence that Dan didn't die of a seizure. You said he'd had a head injury and had some emotional problems as a result; his paranoia could be explained that way. You saw your friend Diane using your computer; she could be punking you for some reason. The doctor that visited you told you that he was worried about patent infringement. The doctor at the funeral had reason to be there, assuming he really was the boyfriend. You said yourself that your tires might have been slashed because of your bumper sticker. And you also said yourself that the guy following you turned off well before you did, and you had decided he wasn't following you after all. Although..." He folded the fingers he'd been counting on into a fist. "The circumstantial evidence for something going on is starting to pile up."
Kevin: "But it is circumstantial. There's no solid evidence of anything yet."
Abby: "But there may be, after the UCLA cops finish with your computer."
Me: "Yeah, and I'm afraid that will show that Diane was responsible. That would be bad."
Jeff: "Have you found anything in the articles yet to explain what Dan might have been getting at?"
"Nope. Although, on the copy of the article I found in his desk, he had written BULLSHIT in capital letters over the top of the statistics section. I need to see if I can figure out what the statistics show and why he might have said that. But right now, that's all I have to go on."
"I might be able to help you with that." Pete glanced at me as he picked his way around a couple of rocks. "I did recently finish a dissertation for which I had to do a lot of stats. It's moderately fresh in my mind."
"That would be great. I was going to try to figure it out with help from the Internet, but I'm sure it won't take as long for you."
He laughed. "Well, I wouldn't be too sure about that, but I'll do my best."
We were back home by mid-afternoon after dropping Pete off. Jeff needed to start for home, and I was tired again. Kevin and Abby left again to go to Abby’s sister’s for a cookout. Abby had invited me, but I begged off. I’d spent my evenings reading this stupid medical article, and I was getting behind on my other reading. I had a new issue of the Journal of Scottish Historical Studies and a stack of books that were calling to me. I gathered drinks and snacks, propped pillows behind me, and settled in for an evening of reading.
I had dozed off with a book propped on my chest when a sound woke me.
I didn't move, listening to see if I heard it again. There was nothing for several seconds. Then I heard it again, a soft scratching sound, coming from our balcony.
We lived on the fourth floor of our building. It was dark out, but our balcony, like all the others at the complex, overlooked the small courtyard, if you could even call it that. Theoretically, no one should have been able to climb up without being seen…
I heard the sound again. I turned off the light behind my head, let my eyes adjust, and waited to see if I heard it again.
There it was.
I eased off the sofa as silently
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