Chapter 4After verifying Quint was unquestionably dead, I debated whether to call the sheriff or Connor. Grateful that my relationship with April had swung to the positive side, I notified Connor, hopeful it might unfold less painfully with him. While he rushed over, I surveyed the scene to determine what had transpired.
Quint laid supine on the floor of the cable car with his eyes wide open, staring at various pictures of Agatha Christie on the finished ceiling. He wore his usual jeans, white t-shirt, and construction boots, and his hands were slightly clenched. On closer inspection, I noticed red and dark brownish-black spots on his fingers as though he'd recently been burned by something. Two exposed wires from the panel across the cramped space carelessly drooped to the floor but prod
