Naked Frame by Robert Burton Robinson Page B

money, you might want to buy a hat or windbreaker, or
anything that will make you look different."
    "You think the killer will
come after me? "
    "Probably. So be careful."
    "Okay. Thank you."
    Gabby knew what Rebecca was about to ask.
"Yeah, I'll buy the ticket."
    "I'll pay you back."
    "I know."
    Gabby purchased the ticket on his smartphone
and sent a text message to Megan with her flight information.
"There's something that's been bugging me."
    "What?"
    "Calvin. We went by his garage this morning
at around eleven o'clock. And Carly never made it home last night.
So, why didn't Calvin say anything about it? When you asked to talk
to her about cosmetics, he said she wasn't home. Shouldn't he have
been worried about the fact that his wife had never come home last
night? Or, was that something that she sometimes did?"
    "No. As far as I know, she always went home.
It would usually be after midnight. But she went home."
    "So, why did he act like everything was
fine? Why did he casually say she wasn't home. He should have been
saying that he didn't know where the hell she was. Or at least
appear to be worried about her. How do you explain his
behavior?"
    "I just chalked it up to him not caring what
happened to her. Maybe he thought she fell asleep at the hotel
after screwing her last john."
    "Is it possible that Calvin murdered
Carly?"
    "No, I don't think—"
    "—what if somebody offered him enough money
to buy that car he was drooling over, for example? You know—the one
in the brochure."
    "Who would pay him money to kill his own
wife?" She thought for a moment. "Joey."
    "That's what I'm thinking."
    "But it looked as though Carly had been
killed by some type of electrical device."
    "Right. And Calvin has all kinds of
electrical testers and gadgets in his shop."
    "Like a battery charger or something?"
    "Yeah. We should go back there."
    "Wait." Rebecca reached into her pocket,
pulled out a twenty dollar bill, and clicked on the dome light. "I
copied a phone number from Joey's desk and wrote it on this bill.
It had the letters CC next to it. I wonder if it could be Calvin
Cinaway's number?"
    "Try it."
    Rebecca called the number.
It went to voice mail: You have reached
Calvin's Auto Shop. Our hours are eight to six. Please leave a
message. Rebecca hung up. "I think we're on
to something. Let's get over there."
    Gabby pulled out of the McDonald's parking
lot, and drove them to the spot where they had parked that
morning—around the corner from Calvin's house. "Any chance the
police could be there waiting for us?"
    "There's always a chance. I'll bet nobody's
even discovered Big Bill's body yet. But I'm sure they're
investigating Carly's death by now. And if Carly was carrying my
business card in her purse—"
    "—the police will be wanting to talk to
you."
    "By tomorrow, it's going to be much harder
to get around this city anonymously. We've got to figured out who
killed who, and we've got to do it tonight."
    They stepped out of the car and took the
sidewalk around to Calvin's garage. The doors were closed, but the
lights were on. The only car in Calvin's driveway was his Buick.
There were no cars in front of his house.
    Rebecca pointed, and led the way to the side
door, which faced the side of the house. She knocked.
    They listened for a response. But the only
thing they could hear inside was the giant fan.
    "Maybe he didn't hear," said Gabby.
    Rebecca knocked louder.
    Still no response.
    She opened the door. "Mr. Cinaway?"
    At first, Gabby thought Calvin had fallen
fell asleep under the hood of the car—until he saw the screwdriver
handle. "Oh, shit." He hoped it was a stubby screwdriver. Their
blades are only a couple of inches long—made for tight spaces. But
stubby screwdrivers had stubby handles. This handle was six inches
long. Then he spotted the pool of blood under the car.
    They rushed over for a closer look.
    Rebecca leaned in under the hood for a side
view. "It went all the way through his body. We've got to get out
of