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“Why don’t you head upstairs, Mister Shaut?” Williams announced “I’ll clean up and lock up down here”

“Good idea, Brent I have sos to do in the office,” Shaut replied and headed out the door, as Pro followed hiet some coffee?”

Pro’s jaw flexed as she fought to control herself “Sir, I—”

There was a scream from inside the workshop Without a pause, Pro pushed Shaut to the ground, leapt past him, and crouched at the door with her service weapon drawn out in a two-handed grip

“What is it!” Pro dee pieces of equipht was a lathe She jumped to her feet and strode over, her weapon pointed at the ceiling

On top of the ht-red letters was the word:

MURDERER

Pro looked to Williams, who turned to her wild-eyed “This is the work of Max Marvell! How dare he accuse Mister Shaut of being a murderer! He’s the killer!”

He grabbed the paper and tore it in two before Pro could say anything

“Wait!” she finally said “I don’t get it Forensics went through this room Why didn’t they find it?”

“It was under a cloth that covered the machine,” Williams whined “Hidden so that Mister Shaut would find it Detective, you have to protect him You have to protect us!”

“I intend to, Mister Willia her weapon “Why don’t you accompany us upstairs and lock this room for now?”

He nodded and lanced back to take a final look at the ripped sign as it lay on the floor

17 Mismade Lady

The early afternoon was spent in sheer boredo room between the office of Malcolm Shaut, who made phone calls and clicked away at his computer keyboard, and the opposite office of Brent Williams orked at his own computer and answered his own phone calls