Take Stock in Murder (8 page)

“Any idea what it means?” Charles asked Carrie.

“Not yet, but Todd thought it was important enough to hide it in this manual. Does it match any of the bank account entries?”

“No, those entries are all different letters with none repeating. Maybe this slip is just some code he worked out in conjunction with the program, and that’s why he kept it with the program manual. It may not be related to the case.”

“Perhaps not, but we know Todd won’t have any further use for this paper. I think I’ll just put it in my pocket.” Carrie folded the paper and placed it inside her pants pocket. She carefully replaced the program manual on the shelf next to the desk.

Charles reviewed the desk to make sure everything was back in its proper place. They were headed toward the front door when they heard a key turning in the lock.

“Mrs. Breckenridge,” Carrie whispered to Charles.

hey found their hiding place behind a sofa just in time. The door to the study opened, and the intruder headed right for the desk and the computer.

Carrie moved to the end of the sofa and tried to peer out, but Charles grabbed the waistband of her slacks. She flapped her hand behind her, trying to release Charles’s grip, but she finally gave in and slid back. They heard a whirring sound and the clicking of the keyboard.

It seemed the intruder was in the room forever, but it was only a few minutes before they heard the sound of the computer shutting down. This time they both peered around from opposite ends of the sofa to catch a quick glimpse. The intruder was dressed in black with a hooded sweatshirt and a backpack. The baggy, sexless clothes left Charles unable to decide whether the person was male or female. They waited until they heard the front door of the condo close, and then stood up from their hiding place. It was just a few seconds before Charles announced,
“Well, our intruder took the laptop.” He opened the desk drawer. “The gambling slips are gone too.”

Carrie pointed to the shelf next to the desk. “She also took the stock program package and the box of disks that were here. I wonder if she took that package because she knew about the little chart.”

Charles stared at Carrie.

“What’s the matter?” she asked.

“You said ‘she’ when you described our intruder. Was that a natural slip, or was there something about the intruder that led you to believe it was a woman?”

“No slip. It
was
a woman,” she answered smugly.

“All right, I’ll bite. How do you know?”

“Her shoes.”

“Her shoes?” he repeated.

“Yes, our intruder wore shoes that are sold at Bentley’s Main Street Shoes. I’ve the same pair. It’s a black flat with a gold bar across the instep,” Carrie said.

Charles laughed. “You continue to amaze me. Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

Once they were in the hallway, they both felt a sense of relief and exhilaration. Charles carefully locked the door. They removed their gloves, and Carrie stuffed them in her purse. She started toward the elevator.

Charles called after her. “No, this way. I’m going to look at the condo. Wanna come?”

Carrie scooted back down the hallway after him. They spent the next couple of minutes looking around the condo. It was
all Mrs. Breckenridge had promised, with a very lovely view of the river.

“This is really very nice,” Charles remarked. “I like the working fireplace, tall ceilings, and large rooms. This would be a very nice place to have in the city.”

“I thought you wanted to spend your free time on a boat.”

“It was just a thought.” He smiled. “I guess we better get going.”

“It was a lovely thought.” She took his arm, and they left the condo and headed for the elevator.

Charles punched the down button on the elevator. When it arrived, Mrs. Breckenridge popped out, accompanied by two men in suits.

“Oh, there you two are,” she said. “I was afraid we would miss each other in the elevators. I need the keys to let these two gentlemen into a condo on this floor.”

Charles handed Mrs. Breckenridge the keys, which she promptly dropped. Charles retrieved the keys from the floor.

“Oh, I’ve just had the most shocking news,” she said. “These gentlemen are from the police, and they have informed me that one of our tenants was murdered last night.”

Charles and Carrie both tried to look shocked by the news.

“Oh, he wasn’t killed here. No, he was killed up in the county. Isn’t that the way? People are afraid to live in the city, but there’s just as much crime in the county.”

“Such a true statement. We better let you attend to these two gentlemen,” Charles said without turning to face the policemen. He escorted Carrie onto the waiting elevator. “I’ll
give you a call later in the week to finalize details. Thank you so much for your time.”

“I knew you two were right for that condo.” Her voice brightened at the hopes of a sale. “I can put you in very quickly—”

Carrie pushed the lobby button, and the doors gently closed off the conversation.“Talk about cutting the timing tight,” she said, feeling exhilarated as they left the building. “Do you think they’ll remember us?”

“They have no reason to. They were very anxious to get into Todd’s condo. I’m sure they will report back to Detective Jenco that the condo has been secured.”

Carrie started to head back toward the metro when Charles stopped her. “No, we have one other stop to make,” he said and turned her in the opposite direction.

hey walked several long city blocks before they arrived at one of their favorite hangouts in the city, A. J. Harrells, known for its hamburgers. The meat was freshly ground, the buns were freshly baked, and when you ordered extras, such as mushrooms, grilled onions, and tomatoes, there were enough toppings for several hamburgers. Cholesterol was never counted, and every order came with onion rings and french fries. Regulars to this establishment knew that the uninviting wooden door on the side of the building would take you directly to the dining room. This entrance avoided the noisy bar, which was always filled with singles playing pinball and video games or watching the current sports game on the big-screen television.

Carrie and Charles entered by way of the side door and quickly found a booth for four located against the side wall in the back. It didn’t matter what time of day you arrived; whether it was sunny or overcast, the saloon was always dark,
and conversations were always private, even though the place was never empty. At Harrells, political secrets were discussed, great writers created well-known works, business deals were cut, and musicians and artists found inspiration from the darkened walls. The famous, the unknown, and the yet to be discovered all sat side by side.

“Are you expecting company, or are you planning on eating enough food for four?” Carrie had no sooner said the words than one of the waiters arrived.

“If there’s just the two of you, I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to move to a smaller booth or a table for two,” he said politely but forcefully. Harrells was always busy, and no one was allowed more space than he or she needed.

“Two more on the way,” Charles said. “We’ll take four dark beers, iced mugs.” The waiter seemed satisfied and went off with the order.

“What are you up to now?” Carrie had no sooner asked the question than she suddenly leaned over to Charles and whispered, “Charles, don’t look now, but coming this way is that other couple who was looking at the condos.”

The couple walked directly to the table. “Well, here we are, right on time,” Mr. Pickett said.

“Darling, I want you to meet Tom Pickett and his wife, Jenny. Tom is senior accountant with us.” Tom Pickett was tall and slightly overweight, with a balding head and small, round glasses. His wife, Jenny, was the complete opposite. She was petite and trim, with thick, curly, black hair and full of energy.

Carrie made some cordial comments, then turned to Charles. “One of the other phone calls you made before we left? You little devil for not telling me what you were up to.”

“I simply wanted to be sure that there was a sufficient diversion for the overly anxious Mrs. Breckenridge. Thomas and Jenny live a few blocks away and decided they were just dying to see the new condos. And it worked well. I thank you both.” Charles saluted the Picketts.

“What did you two think of the condos and Mrs. Breckenridge?” Carrie asked.

Before the Picketts could answer, the waiter appeared with their drinks. He was ready for their lunch order, and all four ordered famous Harrells burgers with assorted toppings. Then, while waiting for their burgers, they shared stories about their impressions of the condo and the rental agent. Once the burgers arrived, however, continuing the conversation was difficult while trying to eat.

After ordering a second round of beers, Tom asked, “Charles, were you aware that the police arrived, asking to see Todd Barrington’s condo? Apparently he was killed last night.”

“Yes, we met Mrs. Breckenridge and the policemen as we were getting on the elevator from the eighth floor. Tom, I think you and Jenny need to know the truth, or as much of the truth as we know at this point. When I called you, I knew Todd was dead. Carrie and I specifically wanted the opportunity to see Todd’s condo before the police sealed it. You see, Carrie and I had an incident with Todd last night at the Tri-County Club dance. The police told us this morning about the murder
and then questioned us about our encounter with Todd. We’re concerned that we are at the top of the suspect list.”

“I see,” Tom said.

“Look, you two are completely out of this. There’s no association with us. You simply looked at a condo,” Charles said.

“Oh, Tom, don’t get soft,” Jenny said. “This is the most excitement we’ve had in a long time; besides, these two people need our support.”

“Thank you, Jenny.” Carrie reached over and squeezed her hand. She’d liked Jenny even before she made this statement of support.

“You’re right, dear,” Tom said. “Look, Charles, we’re glad to do anything we can do to help you two.”

“You have already done more than we could expect. There’s no reason to think there will be any further involvement on your part—other than I’m sure you’ll receive several phone calls from Mrs. Breckenridge,” Charles said, laughing.