you think when you see them.”
“That’s fine, Phil,” I agreed. Phil and I had a history of fair dealing. “I’ll send Sasha or Fred over to look at them and settle up with you.”
“I’ll be heading out for lunch soon. If I’m not here, one of my guys can handle it.”
I left it to Sasha to decide who should go to Phil’s place to examine the locks and make the offer, then followed company protocol and signed out a video camera. I lugged the carry case to my car along with the supplies I’d need to pack up Gretchen’s objects.
CHAPTER TEN
T
he Chevy with the Tennessee plates was still there, increasing the probability, I thought, that it was, in fact, the murder victim’s car. I wondered what it would take for the police to be able to impound it.
I climbed the steps to Gretchen’s unit and discovered Detective Brownley standing at the rail, looking out over the pond. The sun was lost behind thickening clouds. It looked like rain. She greeted me, slit the police tape that sealed the door, and let us in.
“Thanks for telling me about Mandy,” she said as we entered.
“You’re welcome. You know about Lina, too, right?”
“Gretchen has lots of friends,” she said.
“Any news about her?” I asked, aware that she hadn’t answered my question.
“Nothing firm. Lots of avenues to look at.”
Her answer seemed purposefully vague, and her watchful eyes didn’t invite follow-up questions.
I turned to face the six small plates Gretchen had hung in her dining area.
“When we leave here, I’ll go with you so you can get me a dupe of your video recording,” Detective Brownley said. “I’ll give you a receipt for any items you remove. You’ll need to sign a statement saying that they’ll stay under lock and key unless you’re working with them, and if they’re out of the safe, they’re under your direct supervision. Okay?”
“As long as you can include Sasha and Fred in that, we’re fine. They’re both bonded, so there shouldn’t be a problem. Eric also has access to the safe, and he’s bonded, too, but he won’t be working on them.”
She agreed that would be acceptable.
Holding the video recorder steady, I described what I saw, starting with the six fruit plates. With Detective Brownley looking on, I packed them up, wrapping each plate individually in several layers of bubble wrap.
“Do you have an ID on the victim yet?” I asked, wondering if she’d answer.
She didn’t reply right away, maybe deciding whether to respond at all. I kept my eyes on my work. I didn’t want her to think I was challenging her in any way.
“No,” she said finally.
I looked up. “I’m surprised.”
She shrugged. “Sometimes it takes time. Don’t read anything into it. No news is no news.”
I nodded, picked up the camera, and walked over to the pedestal. The thin coating of dust surrounding the circle measured eight inches, a common base size for a variety of bowls and vases. “Mandy told me that Gretchen kept a vase here. A blue-patterned Asian-style vase about eighteen inches high.”
Detective Brownley jotted a note. After I recorded the pedestal, I did a slow survey of the room.
“What are you looking for?” Detective Brownley asked.
“Nothing in particular. I just want to be sure I’m not missing something. So far I haven’t seen anything else that stands out.”
She followed my gaze. “That looks good,” she said, pointing to a Picasso print framed in black metal.
“Picasso’s great,” I acknowledged, “but it’s a reproduction, so for our purposes, there’s nothing to appraise.” I nodded toward three other contemporary art prints that adorned the walls. “Those are re-pros, too. The furniture is pretty standard fare. The fireplace screen looks new.”
I stared at the fireplace tool set. My heart leapt into my throat as I pictured the angry red mark on the dead man’s head. Suddenly I was parched. I coughed as I tried to speak, finally managing to say,
“That’s fine, Phil,” I agreed. Phil and I had a history of fair dealing. “I’ll send Sasha or Fred over to look at them and settle up with you.”
“I’ll be heading out for lunch soon. If I’m not here, one of my guys can handle it.”
I left it to Sasha to decide who should go to Phil’s place to examine the locks and make the offer, then followed company protocol and signed out a video camera. I lugged the carry case to my car along with the supplies I’d need to pack up Gretchen’s objects.
CHAPTER TEN
T
he Chevy with the Tennessee plates was still there, increasing the probability, I thought, that it was, in fact, the murder victim’s car. I wondered what it would take for the police to be able to impound it.
I climbed the steps to Gretchen’s unit and discovered Detective Brownley standing at the rail, looking out over the pond. The sun was lost behind thickening clouds. It looked like rain. She greeted me, slit the police tape that sealed the door, and let us in.
“Thanks for telling me about Mandy,” she said as we entered.
“You’re welcome. You know about Lina, too, right?”
“Gretchen has lots of friends,” she said.
“Any news about her?” I asked, aware that she hadn’t answered my question.
“Nothing firm. Lots of avenues to look at.”
Her answer seemed purposefully vague, and her watchful eyes didn’t invite follow-up questions.
I turned to face the six small plates Gretchen had hung in her dining area.
“When we leave here, I’ll go with you so you can get me a dupe of your video recording,” Detective Brownley said. “I’ll give you a receipt for any items you remove. You’ll need to sign a statement saying that they’ll stay under lock and key unless you’re working with them, and if they’re out of the safe, they’re under your direct supervision. Okay?”
“As long as you can include Sasha and Fred in that, we’re fine. They’re both bonded, so there shouldn’t be a problem. Eric also has access to the safe, and he’s bonded, too, but he won’t be working on them.”
She agreed that would be acceptable.
Holding the video recorder steady, I described what I saw, starting with the six fruit plates. With Detective Brownley looking on, I packed them up, wrapping each plate individually in several layers of bubble wrap.
“Do you have an ID on the victim yet?” I asked, wondering if she’d answer.
She didn’t reply right away, maybe deciding whether to respond at all. I kept my eyes on my work. I didn’t want her to think I was challenging her in any way.
“No,” she said finally.
I looked up. “I’m surprised.”
She shrugged. “Sometimes it takes time. Don’t read anything into it. No news is no news.”
I nodded, picked up the camera, and walked over to the pedestal. The thin coating of dust surrounding the circle measured eight inches, a common base size for a variety of bowls and vases. “Mandy told me that Gretchen kept a vase here. A blue-patterned Asian-style vase about eighteen inches high.”
Detective Brownley jotted a note. After I recorded the pedestal, I did a slow survey of the room.
“What are you looking for?” Detective Brownley asked.
“Nothing in particular. I just want to be sure I’m not missing something. So far I haven’t seen anything else that stands out.”
She followed my gaze. “That looks good,” she said, pointing to a Picasso print framed in black metal.
“Picasso’s great,” I acknowledged, “but it’s a reproduction, so for our purposes, there’s nothing to appraise.” I nodded toward three other contemporary art prints that adorned the walls. “Those are re-pros, too. The furniture is pretty standard fare. The fireplace screen looks new.”
I stared at the fireplace tool set. My heart leapt into my throat as I pictured the angry red mark on the dead man’s head. Suddenly I was parched. I coughed as I tried to speak, finally managing to say,
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