by Millie Mack
“Not at all, Mrs. Breckenridge. I’ve a bad habit of always checking the time. It’s the result of a very busy lifestyle.”
The three of them left the model and stood waiting for the elevator. When the doors opened, a couple in their late fifties emerged. The couple looked at the group and asked, “Hello. Is one of you Mrs. Breckenridge?”
“Yes, I am,” Mrs. Breckenridge responded.
“We’re the Picketts. So glad we caught you. As I said when I called, we’re about to settle on a condo four blocks away, but several friends said we needed to see the condos in this building.”
“Oh my. I’m with this couple and was about to show a condo. Do you have the time to wait until we return?”
“Actually, we don’t. We have a lunch engagement and thought we would stop by for a few minutes,” answered Mr. Pickett.
“Mrs. Breckenridge, you go ahead and spend time with this couple. Mrs. Eckenrode and I would like to spend time getting the feel of the rooms and deciding where we would like to place our furnishings.” Charles said as he reached out for the key ring. “Now just show me the key I need.”
“Well, I guess that would be all right. It’s apartment eight zero four. See? The condo number is the last three of the six digits listed on each key.”
“Great. Now don’t you worry about us, and please take your time, because that’s exactly what we’re going to do in what will probably be our new condo.”
Charles grinned at Carrie as he twirled the key ring on his finger.
nce they were in the elevator, Carrie was elated. “I thought she would never leave us. What luck that the other couple came along.”
“Yes, wasn’t it?” Charles said.
“I must say, that was quite a performance, my darling. What was all that stuff about our new condo?”
“It wouldn’t hurt to have a condo in the city.”
“Really, Charles? You want to buy a boat and a condo all in one day? Not to mention that our potential new condo is on the same floor as Todd’s?”
Charles used Mrs. Breckenridge’s code and held up the key for eight zero six. Charles inserted the key and carefully turned the knob. The door responded, and they entered Todd’s city condo.
“Wow, will you look at this place.” Carrie’s eyes were practically popping. “Todd always said his father refused to give him anything beyond what he earned, other than a Club membership. And we all know Daddy gives Club memberships to make sure the children meet the right people and cast the extra votes for Tri-County Club presidential elections.”
“It looks like Daddy came through with more than a Club membership for Todd. I’d say he came through in style.” Charles wiped the doorknob with his handkerchief and carefully locked the door behind them.
The condo was professionally decorated in the latest furniture and fabrics. The furniture was modern, expensive, and well polished. The dark evergreen carpet was thick and enhanced the dark wood of the furniture. The best and latest in electronics, including a television, stereo, and DVD, Blu-ray, and CD players, were housed in an entertainment center. And the place was immaculate, indicating that Todd availed himself of the expensive maid service outlined in the sales brochure.
“Somehow I don’t think Daddy paid for all this,” Carrie said.
“But the question is, if Daddy didn’t pay for this, how was Todd earning his extra money? Let’s look for something that explains Todd’s newfound wealth,” Charles suggested as he handed Carrie a pair of latex gloves.
Charles opened one door and found the den. He headed straight to a desk with a laptop sitting on it. He turned the computer on and was surprised Todd didn’t use a password. Charles started sorting through the files.
Carrie left Charles to his tasks and started on the other rooms. She searched quickly through the living room, dining room, and kitchen. Then she focused on Todd’s bedroom. The room was furnished simply, with only a few pieces of furniture made of teak. Something chic to impress the women, Carrie thought. She started looking with a vengeance through every drawer and closet in the place. She was sorry he was dead, but men like Todd annoyed her—why couldn’t they all be like Charles? Todd’s closets revealed quality and expensive clothing, but no clues. She even looked under the bed. Carrie went to the den to find Charles.
Charles looked up from the files he was scanning. “Nothing. He seems to have saved very little on the computer.” He opened desk drawers. “Here’s something interesting,” he said as he held up several slips of paper. “Looks like our boy Todd had a gambling problem.”
“What did you find?” Carrie came and stood next to him.
“They’re gambling receipts for money Todd owed in the amount of thirty thousand dollars.”
“That’s quite a sum, but that could be a good thing for us. Gambling debts can be a motive for murder.”
“Not in this case. These are all paid receipts.”
“Those paid receipts also point to Todd’s having a source of money. There must be financial records or bank accounts with large balances,” Carrie said.
“Wait a minute! Here’s a folder called LAUNDRY, and in it is a file that has his bank account transactions. It has entries for his weekly salary from his father’s firm, but each month there’s another five to forty thousand dollars entered.”
“Any indication of how Todd got the additional money?”
“There are letters next to each entry. Later on the numbers repeat themselves.”
Carrie looked over Charles’s shoulder. “I wonder if he was being cute, or if he was laundering money.” She paused. “Could it be a number code for the person who was the source of the money?”
“Yeah, but where do we find the code?”
“Let me look a little further,” Carrie said,
Carrie looked over the software programs on a nearby shelf. Todd had all the basic programs as well as all the popular games. She spotted a program on managing stocks. She opened the box and pulled out the manual marked “Getting Started.” She flipped open the manual, and a sheet of paper fell out. She unfolded the paper.
“Charles, look!” she exclaimed.
Charles had just finished shutting down the computer and was standing next to Carrie. The paper contained nine columns with fourteen rows. Each row contained one letter followed by five numbers, one letter, and either a two-or three-digit number ending with one letter.
“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. T
here’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.
“Don’t worry. We can handle Mrs. Breckenridge. I’ll just tell her we decided on the other condo. Buying the competitor’s product is the quickest way to quiet a salesperson,” Tom said.
“Should the police contact you, simply tell the truth. You and your wife went to see the condos. You knew the Barrington name but weren’t aware that Todd had been murdered until the police told Mrs. Breckenridge.”
It was obvious that Tom and Jenny felt they had finished their adventure for the day, and there really was nothing more they could do for Charles and Carrie. They said good-bye, with a promise that they were available should they be needed for other adventures. The Picketts had no sooner left than their faithful waiter appeared.
“Here’s your check.” He was doing the final total.
“Hold on, young man,” Charles said. “We’re not finished.”
“You want something else?” he asked in astonishment. Most people were unable to eat anything additional after a Harrells burger.
“Yes, we’ll take two apple pies with cheddar cheese, two coffees, and then the check.” Charles smiled and handed him five twenties.
“Your bill is only sixty-four dollars, sir.”
“I’m aware of that. But this will cover the pie and coffee, and the rest is for you, with one catch: you bring us the pie and coffee, and you don’t appear at our table again. My wife and I want to be alone. Do you understand?”