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The Helium Murder(20)

By:Camille Minichino


On my way to the CD player to switch to a jazz disc that Matt had given me, I heard the buzz from the intercom that connects all the offices and my apartment, a remnant of the days when a caretaker lived on my floor.

I pushed RECEIVE on the unit at the back of my desk and heard Rose’s voice. Within just a few minutes, my apartment and my mood had brightened considerably, as if someone had thrown a switch and introduced extra lighting.

“Gloria, are you all right?” she asked. “Robert said you went upstairs early and looked sick or upset.”

“I’m fine,” I said. “I’ll explain tomorrow. I’m sorry I fell down on the job. You must be exhausted.”

“There are still a few people around outside, but we’ve just closed the parlors.”

“Is Buddy still there?” I asked, amazed at my own question.

“No, he came late and left early. Why do you ask?”

“No reason,” I lied, justifiably, I thought, since I didn’t want to worry her.

“Well, we were going to come up,” Rose said, “but I think we’ll just head home. Did you see the police car? They’re going to be there all night, just so you know.”

“Frank told me,” I said. “And there’s going to be another one out there shortly, an unmarked one.”

“Matt’s coming?” Rose was quick, and the delight in her voice, echoing from the tinny intercom speaker, embarrassed me. “Now we’re definitely not coming up,” she said.

“It’s probably business,” I said, suppressing a grin, as if she could see my expression.

“I’ll expect a report in the morning.”

“You’ll have one.”

Matt appeared on my doorstep carrying a cardboard tray with two paper cups bearing a familiar logo. He was still in work clothes, dark suit and tie and the raincoat that looked like he’d purposely wrinkled it to match Columbo’s.

“I got in just before they closed,” he said.

“This is wonderful,” I said, taking the tray, leaving him to wonder whether I meant him or the espresso drinks.

“I decided it was time to brief you on a few things,” Matt said. “Since this has officially become a murder investigation.”

My pleasure at finally being brought in on the case overcame any disappointment I felt that Matt hadn’t just dropped in for a casual social visit.

We sat in the rockers with our coffees, a plate of cheese and crackers and fruit on the low table in front of us. I liked the idea that for once I had something to serve an unannounced guest, and resolved to stop and shop more often.

I wasn’t sure whether I was going to say anything about Rocky. Certainly Matt’s presence in my living room had made the event seem far away and insignificant.

In any case, there seemed to be more tangible connections to pursue in the Hurley case.

“I called Carey in Texas,” Matt said, “since he was on Hurley’s calendar for next week. I assumed she was going to travel there, but I learned that their meeting was here. Carey’s at the new Beach Inn.”

“Here in town?”

“Here in town.”

“He was in Revere on Sunday evening?”

“He was.”

I settled back in my rocker and took a sip of foam. Matt had shaken a generous amount of chocolate on it, just as I liked it. He was looking at me as if we were playing Twenty Questions and it was my turn.

“Did you talk to him?”

“I did.”

“Did he have a rental car?” I asked, and his body language told me that was the right question.

“Yes.”

“Something big and heavy, not a compact?”

“Yes.”

“Did you track it down?” Now we were both smiling at the course of the conversation.

“Yes.”

“And what shape is it in?”

“It had a busted front bumper. Carey said he’s not used to driving in snow and he ran into a tree.”





Chapter Nine

For a while, I felt like Matt’s partner. He asked me to accompany him when he went to talk to Carey at his Chelsea plant on Wednesday afternoon. He’d be asking questions about CompTech’s helium contracts, and thought it would be useful to have me there as a technical consultant. So did I.

“Can’t your lab people tell if Carey’s car hit a tree or another car?” I asked.

“We’re looking at it, but Carey brought the car in right away, so that trail is dead. The Revere Rents mechanic wasn’t paying attention to details like that. He just straightened the car out and painted over the problems. We’re lucky anyone remembered that Carey turned in a damage report.”

“That was fast. I wish my mechanics were that swift and thorough.”