9

I started the morning in my chair’s office and got a brief update from Kristy on the missing twenty thousand. Still missing, although she thought there was new hope. Carlson, the college financial guy, had apparently decided that she wasn’t an idiot and was actually trying to help her trace the money.

I made some encouraging noises and promised I’d spend more time with her on this later. But my mind was elsewhere. Not just on the case but on Karen. Something about the sharp and sexy detective fascinated me. I was glad when it came time to leave the office and walk over to Emily’s apartment. Maybe today’s outing would be followed by another lunch together.

Emily’s address turned out to be a two-story, yellow colonial on a tree-lined street in Brookline. Karen was already there, parked across the street in a red Subaru. I waved to her and was happy to see her hop out of the car, a welcoming smile on her face.

“Thanks for coming,” she said, giving my arm a little squeeze in greeting. “It’s a lot more fun doing this with you than on my own.”

I felt like giving her a hug, but this wasn’t the place. So I just smiled. “Thanks, I like working with you too.”

She gave me a wink that was just a shade flirtatious. Or at least I hoped so.

“Good,” she said. “Then let’s start by checking out the view of the apartment from here. I want to see what was visible to Singer. You go upstairs, turn on the lights, and stand by the window. Then go around to the couch and bend over like you were putting Emily down on it. Or messing with her while she was lying down. I’ll see how well I can follow you.” She handed me a key.

“Does Emily know we’re doing this?” I asked.

“Yes. I told her we were coming over this morning. She’s already at the lab and said it’s okay to make a quick visit. The crime-scene techs were already here, so you don’t need to worry about touching anything.”

“Did they find anything interesting?”

“Too early to tell. No semen stains or anything obviously indicative of sexual assault. They took her clothes and got samples for DNA analysis from the couch, the door, and the windows. They were there yesterday, and I put a rush on it, so we should get the results soon, and we’ll see if there’s anything that doesn’t match Emily or Upton. He cooperated and gave the techs a sample for comparison, so we’ll be able to tell if anyone else was there.”

Karen got back in the car so that she’d have the same view that Singer had had. I crossed the street and went to the side door leading up to Emily’s apartment. The door was now fitted with a deadbolt as well as the ordinary lock, both of which opened with the same key. When I was upstairs, I went over to the window behind the couch. Karen was clearly visible across the street, and she waved to me. Then I walked around to the front of the couch. Karen was still there, and we waved again. She moved her hand in a downward motion, and I bent down as if I were helping someone onto the couch. At that point, my view of her was lost. I straightened up slowly and found that I could see her again when I was bent about 45 degrees at the waist, no more. She gave me a thumbs-up sign and motioned me back. We’d seen what we needed to.

She was waiting for me outside the apartment when I got back downstairs. “That was useful,” she said. “Singer could have seen him get Emily to the couch, but he would have lost sight of them if Upton bent over or kneeled down. So Upton could have assaulted her without being seen, even with the window shades open.”

“I guess. I just can’t get around how Emily insists it wasn’t him.”

“I understand, but I wouldn’t take what Emily says too seriously. She can’t remember, and she may just be protecting him. Either because she genuinely likes him or because she’s afraid of bringing accusations against her boss. Anyway, let’s see if we can dig up anyone else who may have seen something. Starting with the landlord.”

We walked around to the front of the house, past a large pine tree in the front yard and a garden area filled with pansies and brightly colored chrysanthemums. A small, wiry, gray-haired woman, probably in her seventies, answered the bell. Karen showed her detective’s ID and introduced me as her partner.

“I’m Jane Harkness,” the woman said. “Is there something I can do for you?”

“Your tenant Emily had a problem upstairs last Tuesday night,” Karen said. “Can we ask you a few questions about that evening?”

“What happened? Is she all right?”

“I’m sorry; we’re not at liberty to give out any information about it. But yes, Emily’s fine.”

Mrs. Harkness frowned. “Well, if you can’t tell me what happened, I’m not sure how I can help.”

“Just a few questions, please,” Karen said. “Were you and your husband home that evening?”

“My husband passed six years ago; it’s just me now. And yes, I was home.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Karen said. “Did you see Emily that evening? We believe she got home between eight thirty and nine.”

“I did see her then. A car pulled up across the street, and a man helped her out and around to her side entrance. It seemed like he was supporting her, and I thought she must have really gotten drunk. I was surprised. That’s not like her.”

“Could you tell if he went up to her apartment with her?”

“I think so. I could hear heavy footsteps upstairs for a few minutes. Then it was quiet, and the man came back down and got in the car.”

“Thank you. That’s very helpful. Did you notice anyone else on the street? Either then or later in the evening?”

“I was curious about the car bringing Emily home, so I kept looking out the window until it went away. There was another man in the car who waited for the one who took Emily upstairs, and that was it. Nobody else. I went to bed soon after, but you might want to ask AJ. She lives a few houses down and has a dog that she always walks later at night. Maybe she saw someone. Her house is the blue one across the street.”

We thanked Mrs. Harkness for her help and promised to keep her informed as far as possible. Once we were back in the garden area, Karen said, “Okay, that eliminates the landlord. Let’s go talk to the neighbor.”

We walked across to the blue house and rang the bell, to be greeted by loud, frantic barking. Karen held up her badge, and a woman opened the door, holding the source of the barking in her arms. The woman was fiftyish, with blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. The dog was thirty or forty pounds, white with orange markings. It was squirming and howling as if it wanted to eat the invaders.

Karen said, “Oh, a PBGV! I love these guys,” and reached out to pet it. The dog immediately stopped barking and nuzzled against Karen’s hand. The owner smiled and said, “Yes, that’s Beantown. Or Beanie, for short. He likes you.”

I followed Karen’s lead and ventured to pet Beantown, to be similarly rewarded by happy licks. Especially when he smelled Rosie. “What’s a PBGV?” I asked. “He’s lovely, but I never heard of them before.”

“It’s short for Petit Basset Griffon Vendéen,” the owner said. “He’s a French hound, a hunting dog. I have a friend who breeds them.”

“A hunting dog? Seems like he’s more of a lover,” I said. Beantown acknowledged the compliment by reaching up to give me a wet lick on the nose. We were all friends now.

“You should meet his mother, Cleo. Hunts rats, squirrels, opossums. She’s the terror of the neighborhood. I’m AJ, by the way.”

Karen introduced us and asked AJ about last Tuesday evening. She’d been sitting near the window and had seen a car pull up and a man help Emily to her apartment. The poor girl must have had too much to drink. The lights in the apartment came on for a few minutes. Then they went off again, and the man came back down and drove off in the car.

“Did you see anyone else on the street?” Karen asked.

“Not then, but I did see a strange man when I took Beantown out for a walk a little later.”

“What time was that?”

“Maybe half an hour or so after the car left, maybe a bit longer. He was walking up the street in the opposite direction from us. He seemed in a bit of a rush.”

“Can you describe what he looked like?”

“Big.” She looked at me. “At least two or three inches taller than you and bulky. Not fat but hefty, like a football player or something. He was wearing a hooded jacket, and I couldn’t see much of his face, although I could tell he was white and had a beard.”

Karen nodded. “Good, that’s very helpful. Anything else about him?”

“Just that Beantown didn’t like him. He pulled away when we saw him and didn’t want to get near him. And Beanie loves everybody.”

“So what did we learn from all that?” I asked while we walked back to Karen’s car.

“Well, quite a bit about PBGVs. And what do you think about the big guy on the street?”

“He does sound like an odd character. We should try to track him down, but how do we even start to do that?”

“Hang on,” she said. “I’m a trained detective.” She pulled out her phone and scrolled through it. Then she handed it to me. “How about this?”

I looked at the photo of a young man with a beard. He was standing next to a car, which gave me a size comparison. Big and bulky, but well put together. Like AJ had described.

“Where’d this come from?” I asked.

“I looked up Derek Kilpatrick, Emily’s stalker ex-boyfriend. Who may very well either have a key or know where the spare was hidden, remember?”

I pursed my lips and nodded. “All of which makes him a good suspect. Especially if he was in the neighborhood that night.”

“Yup, at least he’s a viable alternative. He’s on the wrestling team and lives in the Delta Tau frat house. His first class is an hour from now, so we could probably catch him at the fraternity now. Want to pay him a visit? I’d like you with me for this one. He looks like kind of a macho customer.”

“I’m supposed to be meeting with Kristy to continue some financial stuff we started earlier, but I can put that off. Are you afraid he might attack you or something?”

She gave me a mocking laugh. “No, I can take care of myself in that department, thank you. I just think he may be the type that’ll have more respect and give better answers if a man’s asking the questions.”