murder."
"Oh, God." She backed against the desk, using it to give her thestrength to continue standing. "Billy, he was already dead when I got there, I swear."
"What the hell were you doing there?"
"Behaving like a fool. A jealous fool. It had been over a week since we'd spent any time together. That night, I insisted. He told me he had a business meeting. Said it was something he had to do for my father and then it was dinner and bed. He'd call me the next day."
"What was he doing for the commander?"
"I phoned Dad to ask. He said he didn't know what Rudy was talking about. The last task he'd entrusted to him was a fait accompli. And a very unsatisfactory one, he said.
"I wanted to get to the bottom of this, so I called Rudy back. This time I got his voice mail. I sat around simmering, dialing him every so often and growing more and more infuriated. Finally I drove over there."
"How'd you get past the doorman and the lobby camera?" I asked.
"There's a thing Rudy did. If he was expecting someone he didn't want the doorman or anyone else to see, he'd leave the alley door unbolted."
"And you discovered this how?"
She hesitated, then said, "Once upon a time, I was his back-door romance. If you recall, Rudy was still engaged to that British bitch Samantha Prentice when he and I started up."
Recall? Hell, that was back when I harbored the foolish notion that Gretchen and I were still a couple. I didn't linger on that. "So the night he died, you found the rear door open?"
"Yes. I cut through the walkway beside the building, entered through the unlocked door, and went up the service stairs to his condo. I knew he kept an extra key under the carpet at the far end of the hall. But I didn't need it. His door was ajar.
"I went in, expecting to find him in bed with some tramp. Instead he was ... God, it was horrible! His face twisted and grotesque. He'd relieved himself and that smell, with the vomit ..."
"But you were able to find the black book and take it."
"I went to call the police. The black book was on the table beside the phone. I looked through it and ..."
"And you realized how bad it might look for the fiancee of a sleep-around guy to be in his apartment with his dead body."
"I'm not that cold and calculating, Billy. I didn't dream he'd been murdered. I assumed he'd had a heart attack. Rudy was beyond anything I could do for him. I didn't see any reason not to remove the black book and save him from seeming like the letch that he was. I took it and left the way I'd come in."
"Let me get this straight," I said. "You're standing there with the carpet ripped up and the books pulled off the shelves and the place an unholy mess, and you think he's had a heart attack?"
"What are you talking about? There were no books on the floor, no torn carpet. With the exception of the space where Rudy died, the apartment was as neat as always."
"The detectives told me it was a mess," I said.
"A mess they made," Gretchen said firmly.
"Maybe," I said. I had a pretty good idea who'd made the mess, but I was having trouble working out the chronology. Rudy was poisoned by a person or persons unknown. Gretchen arrived and the place had not been searched. But by the next day, when the housekeeper found Rudy's corpse and the cops got there, the place had been ransacked, probably by Clove Boy. Ergo, Clove Boy had not killed Rudy? Or maybe he had and then was sent back to find the secret thing. The black book, maybe?
"I suppose you think I should tell the police the truth," Gretchen said.
Ding! Ding! Ding! We have a winner
, I thought. What I said was "It's your decision."
"I don't want to," she said. "But what if the person who saw me tells the police?"
"I sorta fudged on that," I said. "You weren't seen in the building, just in the neighborhood. If the cops don't know that by now, they probably never will."
She seemed relieved for about five seconds, then tensed and said, "Unless you tell them."
"Did you kill him, Gretch?"
"No.
"Oh, God." She backed against the desk, using it to give her thestrength to continue standing. "Billy, he was already dead when I got there, I swear."
"What the hell were you doing there?"
"Behaving like a fool. A jealous fool. It had been over a week since we'd spent any time together. That night, I insisted. He told me he had a business meeting. Said it was something he had to do for my father and then it was dinner and bed. He'd call me the next day."
"What was he doing for the commander?"
"I phoned Dad to ask. He said he didn't know what Rudy was talking about. The last task he'd entrusted to him was a fait accompli. And a very unsatisfactory one, he said.
"I wanted to get to the bottom of this, so I called Rudy back. This time I got his voice mail. I sat around simmering, dialing him every so often and growing more and more infuriated. Finally I drove over there."
"How'd you get past the doorman and the lobby camera?" I asked.
"There's a thing Rudy did. If he was expecting someone he didn't want the doorman or anyone else to see, he'd leave the alley door unbolted."
"And you discovered this how?"
She hesitated, then said, "Once upon a time, I was his back-door romance. If you recall, Rudy was still engaged to that British bitch Samantha Prentice when he and I started up."
Recall? Hell, that was back when I harbored the foolish notion that Gretchen and I were still a couple. I didn't linger on that. "So the night he died, you found the rear door open?"
"Yes. I cut through the walkway beside the building, entered through the unlocked door, and went up the service stairs to his condo. I knew he kept an extra key under the carpet at the far end of the hall. But I didn't need it. His door was ajar.
"I went in, expecting to find him in bed with some tramp. Instead he was ... God, it was horrible! His face twisted and grotesque. He'd relieved himself and that smell, with the vomit ..."
"But you were able to find the black book and take it."
"I went to call the police. The black book was on the table beside the phone. I looked through it and ..."
"And you realized how bad it might look for the fiancee of a sleep-around guy to be in his apartment with his dead body."
"I'm not that cold and calculating, Billy. I didn't dream he'd been murdered. I assumed he'd had a heart attack. Rudy was beyond anything I could do for him. I didn't see any reason not to remove the black book and save him from seeming like the letch that he was. I took it and left the way I'd come in."
"Let me get this straight," I said. "You're standing there with the carpet ripped up and the books pulled off the shelves and the place an unholy mess, and you think he's had a heart attack?"
"What are you talking about? There were no books on the floor, no torn carpet. With the exception of the space where Rudy died, the apartment was as neat as always."
"The detectives told me it was a mess," I said.
"A mess they made," Gretchen said firmly.
"Maybe," I said. I had a pretty good idea who'd made the mess, but I was having trouble working out the chronology. Rudy was poisoned by a person or persons unknown. Gretchen arrived and the place had not been searched. But by the next day, when the housekeeper found Rudy's corpse and the cops got there, the place had been ransacked, probably by Clove Boy. Ergo, Clove Boy had not killed Rudy? Or maybe he had and then was sent back to find the secret thing. The black book, maybe?
"I suppose you think I should tell the police the truth," Gretchen said.
Ding! Ding! Ding! We have a winner
, I thought. What I said was "It's your decision."
"I don't want to," she said. "But what if the person who saw me tells the police?"
"I sorta fudged on that," I said. "You weren't seen in the building, just in the neighborhood. If the cops don't know that by now, they probably never will."
She seemed relieved for about five seconds, then tensed and said, "Unless you tell them."
"Did you kill him, Gretch?"
"No.
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