Loren D. Estleman - Amos Walker 17 - Retro by Loren D. Estleman Page B
Authors: Loren D. Estleman
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answer.”
“I’ll wait in my own stall. I know the way out of it.”
“Please.”
He got the word out with effort, as if it had been stuck between two teeth. Pleaders hate to do it for free.
“Okay. Your magazines are newer than mine, anyway.”
“Thank you. I’ll pay you for your time.”
He held the door for me and locked it behind us. Captain Hichens towered over the receptionist in the hallway. I’d just about convinced myself he couldn’t be as tall as I remembered. His bleak eyes showed no expression when he recognized me. Expressing plenty. He shook Meldrum’s hand because it was in his way and pulled me aside by my sleeve. My arm was in the sleeve and I felt a bruise starting.
“Why the hell are you here?” He didn’t shout. He didn’t keep his voice low either. The other two people weren’t there for him.
“Chipped a tooth opening a beer can. Meldrum says I’ve got a case against Stroh’s. Or maybe it’s a case of Stroh’s. My Latin’s rusty.”
“Stay out of my murder.”
“Okay if I investigate Curtis Smallwood’s?”
“That what you’re investigating?”
“You want to see the tooth? I wrapped it in evidence tape.”
“Where’s that gun I told you to bring around?”
I reached under my suitcoat and took it out of its holster. He gripped my hand when I offered him the butt. My fingers pressed fresh holes in the cylinder. “Not here, goddamn it. Bring it to the City-County Building.” He looked around, appearing to notice for the first time we weren’t alone.
Meldrum cleared out some phlegm. “My office is down on your left, Sheriff.”
“Captain.”
The lawyer sliced his way down the middle of the hall and turned through a door near the end. Judy had drifted away on a zephyr.
Hichens watched me put away the .38. “I had someone call the TV station.
The Letter
started at noon. The first gunshot on film took place two minutes and forty-two seconds into the broadcast. That checks with the hostess, who said West called just before twelve, asking you to meet him in his room; provided the killer turned on the set and timed his shots to coincide with the shots on the soundtrack. That’s consistent with time of death as estimated by the coroner. In thirty years I’ve never had a more precise estimate.”
“You sound disappointed.”
“Life isn’t Legos. I get nervous when all the pieces fit. Shooter could’ve done it as much as twenty minutes earlier, called downstairs pretending to be Garnet, then switched channels on the TV so we’d think he used the movie to cover the noise. Almost any other program could be cranked up loud enough to do the trick.”
“I’m still covered. I got there a half-hour early. Ask my waiter. He’s a light heavyweight named Joseph Sills.”
“I talked to him. He said you were interested in someone else who ate in the restaurant, same time as you. Morgenstern was the name. First name Jeremiah.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“He said he told you he heard someone address the man as Mr. Morgenstern.”
“I didn’t know Jeremiah was his first name. Did you talk to him?”
“I talked to a woman who said she was his companion; a redhead I wouldn’t mind spending quality time with myself. She said he was in a meeting. She also said someone else hadbeen asking about him. He even left his name and number.”
“Guilty,” I said. “If there’s a law against it.”
“There is when it gets in the way of an official investigation. What made him so interesting?”
“Mr. Morgenstern is the kind of person who calls attention to himself.”
“Think he called attention to himself for a reason?”
“I didn’t at the time. Maybe, if everything happened twenty minutes earlier. He was in a meeting when I called. If it was the same one, I hope for his sake he got a lot of work done. Who is he?”
“Venture capitalist, the redhead said. I don’t know what that is, but whatever he does he does out of an office in Manhattan. His
“I’ll wait in my own stall. I know the way out of it.”
“Please.”
He got the word out with effort, as if it had been stuck between two teeth. Pleaders hate to do it for free.
“Okay. Your magazines are newer than mine, anyway.”
“Thank you. I’ll pay you for your time.”
He held the door for me and locked it behind us. Captain Hichens towered over the receptionist in the hallway. I’d just about convinced myself he couldn’t be as tall as I remembered. His bleak eyes showed no expression when he recognized me. Expressing plenty. He shook Meldrum’s hand because it was in his way and pulled me aside by my sleeve. My arm was in the sleeve and I felt a bruise starting.
“Why the hell are you here?” He didn’t shout. He didn’t keep his voice low either. The other two people weren’t there for him.
“Chipped a tooth opening a beer can. Meldrum says I’ve got a case against Stroh’s. Or maybe it’s a case of Stroh’s. My Latin’s rusty.”
“Stay out of my murder.”
“Okay if I investigate Curtis Smallwood’s?”
“That what you’re investigating?”
“You want to see the tooth? I wrapped it in evidence tape.”
“Where’s that gun I told you to bring around?”
I reached under my suitcoat and took it out of its holster. He gripped my hand when I offered him the butt. My fingers pressed fresh holes in the cylinder. “Not here, goddamn it. Bring it to the City-County Building.” He looked around, appearing to notice for the first time we weren’t alone.
Meldrum cleared out some phlegm. “My office is down on your left, Sheriff.”
“Captain.”
The lawyer sliced his way down the middle of the hall and turned through a door near the end. Judy had drifted away on a zephyr.
Hichens watched me put away the .38. “I had someone call the TV station.
The Letter
started at noon. The first gunshot on film took place two minutes and forty-two seconds into the broadcast. That checks with the hostess, who said West called just before twelve, asking you to meet him in his room; provided the killer turned on the set and timed his shots to coincide with the shots on the soundtrack. That’s consistent with time of death as estimated by the coroner. In thirty years I’ve never had a more precise estimate.”
“You sound disappointed.”
“Life isn’t Legos. I get nervous when all the pieces fit. Shooter could’ve done it as much as twenty minutes earlier, called downstairs pretending to be Garnet, then switched channels on the TV so we’d think he used the movie to cover the noise. Almost any other program could be cranked up loud enough to do the trick.”
“I’m still covered. I got there a half-hour early. Ask my waiter. He’s a light heavyweight named Joseph Sills.”
“I talked to him. He said you were interested in someone else who ate in the restaurant, same time as you. Morgenstern was the name. First name Jeremiah.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“He said he told you he heard someone address the man as Mr. Morgenstern.”
“I didn’t know Jeremiah was his first name. Did you talk to him?”
“I talked to a woman who said she was his companion; a redhead I wouldn’t mind spending quality time with myself. She said he was in a meeting. She also said someone else hadbeen asking about him. He even left his name and number.”
“Guilty,” I said. “If there’s a law against it.”
“There is when it gets in the way of an official investigation. What made him so interesting?”
“Mr. Morgenstern is the kind of person who calls attention to himself.”
“Think he called attention to himself for a reason?”
“I didn’t at the time. Maybe, if everything happened twenty minutes earlier. He was in a meeting when I called. If it was the same one, I hope for his sake he got a lot of work done. Who is he?”
“Venture capitalist, the redhead said. I don’t know what that is, but whatever he does he does out of an office in Manhattan. His
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