The Carbon Murder(88)

“It’ll take me about an hour,” she said.

MC could be at Tomasso’s in fifteen minutes, but she didn’t feel like rushing—she’d had her run for the day—and also she wanted to stop at the florist near Oxford Park and have some flowers sent to Aunt G as a long overdue thank-you. It was way past the time when she should start showing adult behavior and not be everyone’s little girl.

MC checked her watch, ambivalent about whether to call Aunt G about meeting Wayne. It was just before ten. She knew Aunt G was more likely to be up at two o’clock in the morning than ten, especially with Matt in the hospital and the crazy hours that must mean.

She picked up the phone, put it down, then picked it up and punched in Aunt G’s number. Aunt G said to be careful, so that’s what she’d be, even though Lorna was presumably wearing stripes by now. She waited through several rings and heard Matt’s recorded voice.

She waited for the beep. “Hi, Aunt G and Matt if you’re home. Wayne Gallen wants to meet me, one last time he promises, so I’m going. If you’re around … hello … are you screening your calls? Guess not. Well, anyway, I’ll be meeting him in about an hour, so, like eleven o’clock, and if you can meet me there it would be great, but if not, no prob, okay?”

MC was turning the corner from Tuttle Street onto Revere Street when she realized she hadn’t told Aunt G where to meet her. Oh, well. It wasn’t as though it was a dark and stormy night, she thought. And it would all be over soon anyway.





CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

I woke up about two minutes before ten o’clock, feeling rested for the first time in a while. At three—after a final call from Berger telling me they’d have Lorna brought in around ten-thirty in the morning—I’d unplugged the phone by my bed, knowing that anyone who needed me, like the hospital or George Berger, would use my cell phone. Nothing else would require immediate attention, I’d decided.

I was now running late, however, and rushed to get ready for a trip to the police station, happily only a short distance away. Within walking distance if I had time. I frowned at the thought of departmental coffee, but that’s what sleeping in got me.

George Berger had suggested I be present when Lorna gave the technical details of the scam she was confessing to.

I called him cell phone to cell phone to say I was on my way.

“She’s admitted to the illegal drug testing, but she still insists that she never killed anyone. She says she never even heard of Nina Martin and that whatever deaths resulted must have been orchestrated by Alex Simpson. She says she was suspicious as soon as a Houston PI showed up dead in Revere. The Houston PD can’t find Simpson, by the way.”

“Can’t find him?”

“Nope. He was supposedly on vacation at a dude ranch in Montana. Did you know there really are dude ranches, not just in the movies? Simpson was due back yesterday, but never showed. Not home, either.”

“Do they think he’s running, or does he even know he’s wanted for questioning?”

“Not clear. Oh, but guess who we did pick up, right here in Revere, Massachusetts, in the middle of the night?”

I was adjusting to George’s game-show manner. I took it as a sign that he felt comfortable working with me. I wondered how Matt abided it on an ongoing basis.

“Who?” I asked brightly.

“Wayne got-a-mustache Gallen, on a D and D.”

Drunk and disorderly. “Is that a big deal? I mean will he go to jail?”

“Briefly. I think the uniforms did it on general principles, you know. He’s been such a nuisance. So when the call came in from the One A they went over and hauled him in. Just a little innocent revenge. They’ll keep him twenty-four hours and let him go. No harm done.”

I laughed, then caught myself. Uh-oh, not nice. Was I becoming a jaded policewoman who enjoyed cop pranks? I thought of Matt and wished he were around to keep me honest. Berger evidently thought of Matt at the same time.

“How’s my other partner? Still in the hospital?”

“Yes, but coming home today. I’m going to pick him up as soon as I’m free this morning. By the way, we’re …” I stopped. It suddenly didn’t seem right that I’d be announcing our engagement without Matt at my side.

“Say what?”

“We’re looking forward to having him home for good.”

“I miss him.”

“So do I.”



For once I was dressed better than Lorna Frederick. My fairly new charcoal gray sweater set outshone Lorna’s faded blue sweats, which must have been what she was wearing when she was taken in for questioning. Lorna’s hair was at least a day from being tended to, the formerly blond parts giving way to dull brown. Her lawyer, a sharp-nosed, well-dressed young man, was also on hand—to nudge her when there was a question she shouldn’t answer, I presumed.