A Flicker of Doubt - Tim Myers [10]
“Why do you say that?”
Markum scratched his broad chin. “Well, if he is thinking about selling out to Runion, he’s bound to realize how it will affect you. That’s probably why he doesn’t want to face you. Most likely he doesn’t have the nerve to tell you directly.”
I started the truck, then said, “I hope you’re wrong.”
“So do I,” Markum said. “Are you ready for our next move?”
“What did you have in mind?”
He smiled and-said, “I’m in the mood for a little breaking and entering; how about you?”
That depends. What did you have in mind?”
He ran a hand through his unruly hair. “We need to get into Becka’s place and root around some if we’re going to dig into her life. I’m sorry, Harrison, but there’s no other way to do it I’ve got to believe that if there’s something to discover that made this happen, we’ll find it in her apartment”
I’d never really thought about our next step, but he had a point. If we were going to figure out what had led up to her death, we were going to have to be bold.
I drove to Becka’s new place, the one she’d chosen after leaving her old apartment because of a stalker. I’d been there once, picking her up for pizza. It was the last time I’d seen her alive, and I had to stop myself from taking that path in my mind.
On the way, Markum said, “I haven’t popped a lock in years. I hope I still remember how.”
“You may not need to. I’ve got a better idea.”
He shrugged. “Unless you know where she hid the key, I doubt they’re going to let us just waltz in there.”
“We’ll see,” I said as I drove to her place. “If my idea doesn’t work, we’ll try yours.” I pulled up in one of Becka’s reserved slots and we walked over to her apartment.
Markum said, “I was kidding about the key. Don’t tell me she left one under her mat”
“No, but she used to leave one outside at her last place. Becka was always losing her key, and she had a pretty cool place to keep a spare.” There was an old fashioned knocker mounted on her door, one made of shiny brass, though the handle was slightly tarnished. “Great,” I said, the second I saw it “She had it installed here, too. It wasn’t up the last time I was here.”
“You’re happy Becka put up a brass door-knocker?” he asked.
I reached underneath its edge, pressed a small hidden slide and part of the knocker’s base popped open. Inside it was a key that I hoped was a match to her current lock and not the last
Markum studied the mechanism, then said, “I’ve never seen one of these before.”
“She used to date a locksmith, and he rigged it for her since she was always misplacing her keys. If you don’t know the slide is there, you’d never find it. I’m just glad she had time to stock it with a key. Let’s get inside before somebody comes out to check on us.”
“If that’s the right key,” Markum said.
“I’m not even going to acknowledge that that’s a possibility.” I held my breath as I slid the key into place and was relieved when the door swung open. Markum and I slipped inside, then I returned the key to its hiding place and locked the door behind us from the inside.
Going through Becka’s place was tougher than I imagined it would be. While she had always been perfectly attired, Becka’s apartment was a continuing disaster area. Clothes were thrown all over the place, dirty dishes were still in the sink and there was a pile of mail spread across a tabletop near the door.
“Somebody got here before us,” Markum said.
“No, this is the way Becka kept house.”
Markum didn’t say another word, but he did pull a pair of thin rubber gloves from his pocket. After he put his on, he tossed me another pair. “Don’t worry, these are latex-free.”
“Do you really think this is necessary?”
“Harrison, the last thing you want is for our friendly neighborhood sheriff to get interested in this case and start collecting fingerprints. You told him you hadn’t seen her in a month, remember? Do you want to explain why your fresh prints are all over her apartment? Remind me to wipe off that key and door-knocker before we go.”
I put the gloves on, hating how my hands began to sweat