The mayor shuffled his spatula around in the pan. A queer grin tugged at his lips.
“What makes you think that?”
“Well, we are Trackers. Transcendental Trackers.”
“My wife is a beautiful, vibrant woman.”
“Of course she is.”
Williams flipped an omelet with a little more violence than necessary.
“Why would I want her dead?”
“Well. Because she’s a zombie?”
“Totally irrelevant.” Williams shoveled an omelet onto a plate garnished with grapes and a slice of orange. “Meredith?”
Meredith, who had been standing in the corner, picked the plate up and delivered it to Topher. Williams shoveled a second then a third omelet onto two more plates. He turned the gas off with a flip of the dial and untied his apron. Meredith placed a plate before him as he sat, then one in front of Gertrude.
Willia
