Widow’s Walk

“That Conroy wanted you to appraise?”

“Yes.”

“You know anything about Nathan Smith?”

“No.”

“Any other names mean anything to you?”

“No.”

Bisbee’s shoulders were hunched and he was sitting stiffly on the stone wall as if it were cold. Which it wasn’t. He hung on to his clipboard.

I took a card out of my wallet and tucked it into the breast pocket of his plaid shirt.

“Anyone threatens you,” I said, “call me. I’ll take care of it.”

Bisbee nodded without looking at the card, or at me. Across the field the driver of the cement truck was hosing down the cement chute. Five men were watching. Bad ratio.

“Thanks for your help,” I said.

Bisbee nodded again. I left.

CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

I sat with Vi

“She drove out here this morning with an overnight case,” Vi

“Alone?”

“Alone.”

“You see any sign of Conroy?”

“Nope.”

I looked at the dashboard clock. It was 2:47. I didn’t like digital clocks. Nice phrases like quarter to three were becoming obsolete.

“You’d recognize him?”

“Yep.”

“He ever make you when you tailed him before?”

“Nope.”

“Okay,” I said. “I’ll hang here. They’d both know me. You go to the lobby and sit around and try to look like a hotel guest.”

“I’ll read a newspaper,” Vi

“Master of disguise,” I said. “If she goes out, follow her. If Conroy comes in, follow him. Find out what room he goes to. You got a cell phone?”

“Yep.”

I took out a business card and wrote my car-phone number on it and gave it to Vi

“If they get together, stay with them and call me.”

“Okay.”

Vi

“Your daughter has checked into a hotel in Worcester with an overnight bag,” I said. “I’m waiting for Marvin Conroy to show.”

“Which hotel,” Kiley said.

I told him.

“I’ll be there in an hour,” he said.

“I don’t want Conroy spooked,” I said. “There’s a hydrant across the street from the main lobby entrance. Park there and wait for me to find you. What are you driving?”

“Black Lexus sedan,” Kiley said. “Vanity plates-Like-A-Will-More-A-N.”

“It’ll be me, or a guy named Vi

“I’ll be there,” Kiley said. “Thanks.”

We hung up. I couldn’t find anything on the radio that was recognizably musical. I did not want to listen to the opinions expressed on the talk shows. I didn’t want to tie up my car phone, so I couldn’t call Susan up. When all else fails, think about the case.

I still didn’t know exactly what was happening. The business about taking the gun so it would look like murder was just the kind of smart move a couple of morons like Mary Smith and Roy Levesque would choose. The fact that the finger of suspicion would then point at Mary, his heir, would never have occurred to them. Or it could be a double fake to cover up the fact that they really had killed him and Roy was too dumb to get rid of the gun.

But I did know that the only co

At 4:53 my car phone rang.

“I’m on the seventh floor,” Vi

“Here I come,” I said.

As I headed for the stairs to the lobby I looked down and saw Bobby Kiley’s Lexus. When I got to the seventh floor, Vi

“Turn right,” Vi

“He wonder about you when you rode up with him?”

“Maybe. But what’s he going to do?”

I nodded.

“How you going to get in?” Vi

“Maybe I’ll knock on the door, like in the movies, tell him there’s a message?”

Vi

“And I say he’s got to sign for it.”

“And the dope jumps up and opens the door.”

“Or he tells me to blow,” I said. “Especially if nobody knows he’s here and how could they send him a message.”

“Always works in the movies,” Vi

“I can take it from here,” I said to Vi

“You don’t want me to shoot nobody?”

“Thank you for asking,” I said. “Another time.”

“Sure.”

“Guy named Bobby Kiley is parked across the street from the lobby entrance in a black Lexus sedan, vanity plates say ”Lawman.“ Send him up and tell him I’ll be outside the room or in it.”

“Kiley,” Vi

“Girl’s father,” I said.

Vi

“Is he in there?” Kiley said.

“Yes.”

“Have you knocked?”

“I was waiting for you.”

Bobby Kiley took a deep breath and let it out slowly through his nose.

“I’ll knock,” he said.

CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

It was probably two full minutes, and Kiley had knocked three times when A

“Daddy?”

“Open up, A

“Daddy, not now.”

“Now, honey.”

Through the narrow space produced by the barely opened door I could see A

“Daddy, I’m busy.”

“I know,” Kiley said. “And I know who you’re busy with. Open the door, A

“Daddy,” she said, emphasizing the two syllables, stretching out the second one.

“A

I think he meant that I would. But it was not a time for quibbling over pronouns.

“I have to close it to take the chain off,” A

Kiley nodded. The door closed. The chain bolt slid. The door opened and we went in. A