Andrew Price - Without A Hitch

“I can’t believe Beckett is willing to go down to save him. I mean, maybe I could understand if he was just some guy, but this guy deserves whatever he gets.”

“I know.”

“Has he given you any idea what he’s really thinking?”

“There’s no mystery to it. Beckett’s got it in his head that somehow this is wrong, no matter what Beaumont’s done.”

“Do you think you can get him off?”

“I don’t know, maybe,” Corbin said indifferently.

“It sounds like you could be in Philly for a long time. What did you tell your boss?”

“I told him I had a sick aunt.”

“Did he buy that?”

“Sure, he’s happy to have me not working. The less work I do, the bigger the backlog, the greater the justification for his budget.”

“He denied having the wallet?” Alvarez meant Beckett. He was jumping all over in his questions, but Corbin had little trouble keeping up.

“He denied even knowing about the wallet.”

“What do you think that means?”

“It means he has it.”

“Where?”

“Could be anywhere, but I suspect he has it nearby. I’m going to search the office tomorrow at lunch or in the evening. If I don’t find it there, I’ll search his hotel room.”

“How are you going to get into his hotel?” Alvarez asked.

“I’ll figure something out.”

“Don’t get caught. What do we do if you can’t find the wallet?”

“Just keep going.”

“What if he tries to turn you in?”

Corbin tapped his finger against the back of the phone. “I’m not going to talk about that on the phone.”

“He gave away the money?” Alvarez asked this several times already; he was having a hard time believing it.

“So he says.”

“Then how’s he supporting himself?”

Corbin shook his head. “I don’t know. He’s probably on a leave of absence, like I am. Kak still pays me every two weeks.”

“But I thought he was going broke? How can he add the cost of a hotel and living separately from his family? He’s got to be using the money we gave him.”

“I don’t know. Maybe his financial situation wasn’t as dire as he claimed. Remember, he used to commute by train every day. That’s not cheap. Maybe he’s using that money to pay for his hotel? Maybe he’s putting it all on credit? Maybe he lied about getting rid of the money? I don’t know.”

“When are you coming back to town?”

“This weekend.”

“All right, call me if something comes up.”

Corbin hung up and checked his messages. He had several including a message from Blue to call him back and a lengthy message from Penny. He listened to a few seconds of her message before calling her.

“Hello,” came Penny’s familiar voice.

“Hey there.”

“I miss you.”

“I miss you too.” Corbin heard a loud clank through the phone. “What are you doing?”

“I’m cleaning my oven,” she said. “Oh shoot.”

“What?”

“This bottle says ‘avoid direct eye contact,’ and I’m staring right at it.”

Corbin snickered.

“How’s your aunt?” Penny asked.

“She’s fine.”

“Fine enough that you’re coming back soon?” Penny asked hopefully.

“I’ll be down this weekend, but I have to turn around and come right back Sunday night.”

“At least I can have you on Saturday. . unless you have another date?”

Corbin laughed. “No, no other date. I guess I’m available.”

“You ‘guess’?” Penny mimicked. “Oh good for me,” she laughed. “I’ll have to check my calendar and see if I’m free as well.” Penny closed the oven and turned on the clean function. “Did you talk to Blue?”

“No, I’ll call him next.”

“He’s got good news for you. I’ll let him tell you though. . I miss you.”

“I miss you too,” he replied. “But listen, it’s been a really long day, and there are things I still need to do, so let me call you tomorrow?”

“Fine, blow me off,” Penny said in mock frustration.

Corbin laughed.

After they said goodbye, Corbin pulled up Blue’s number, but he didn’t dial it. Instead, he turned off the cell phone. He was tired. He rubbed his temples and stared out the window. Beneath the yellow street lights, he could see sheets of rain falling against the deserted street.

By the time Corbin reached the office the following morning, his overcoat and hair were wet from walking through the drizzle, though his suit remained dry. Beckett sat behind his desk reviewing a forensics report. He looked damp from head to toe as his winter coat was more of a jacket. It hung on the doorknob to dry. As usual, his paisley tie was frayed.

“I’ve got a lead on a witness,” Beckett said.

“Who’s the witness?”

“A drug dealer. He calls himself ‘Saitoo.’ He says Beaumont was with him all day on the 14th.”

“Did you find him or did he find you?” Corbin asked.

“Does it matter?”

“It would be nice to know how happy he’ll be to see us.”

“He called me.”

“All right, when do we leave?”

“Now,” Beckett said, rising from his chair. “Oh, and I’ve set up an interview with one of the cops this afternoon.”

“The old guy or the rookie?”

“The rookie. Russell ‘hasn’t decided if he wants to talk to us yet’.”

Corbin decided against sitting in the broken chair. Beckett chose to stand as well. The room around them looked like it had been attacked. There were holes in the walls, holes in the floor, and empty fast food wrappers liberally strewn about. The paint was peeling from everything and wires hung where fixtures once had been. Lounging in a beanbag in the middle of the floor was a small black man in a light-blue track suit and dark glasses. He was covered in faux-gold jewelry and was smoking a joint.

“He was wit’ me the whole day,” said Chester Williams, aka Saitoo. “That’s all anybody gots to know.”

“Listen, Site- oo ,” Corbin said mockingly.

“That’s ‘Si-too’.”

“Sure it is, Chester-”

“Don’t disrespect me, I teach you a lesson.”

“Try it,” Corbin offered. He sized Saitoo up for a poser the moment he met him.

As Corbin expected, Saitoo backed down. “Look, man, I was wit my friend all day. What more you want me to say?”

“Try answering the question. Where did you two spend the day?”

“We just hung out: his place, my place, then we drove ’round ’til we came back here and ’et dinner.”

“Dinner?” Corbin looked around the shattered empty apartment with no table and no kitchen. “By dinner, you mean you got high?”

“Man, I ain’t never touched no drugs in my life,” Saitoo protested, with the joint still resting between his fingers.

“It would be helpful if you could remember what you ate,” Corbin suggested.

“Why does that help?”

“Everything helps,” Corbin replied.

“We had tacos.”

“You remember that?”

“Sure do.”

“Do you have a receipt?”

“Tossed it last week.” Saitoo mimicked crumpling up paper and dropping it to the floor.

“Where did you get the tacos? Maybe they have a videotape of you two entering the store.”

“Don’t nobody keep videotapes this long,” Saitoo said incredulously.

“You’d be surprised. Give me the name of the place, and I guarantee I can get the video.”

“Uh, we didn’t go in and get ’em. We sent this girl we was hanging out wit’.”

“Oh goodie, a third witness,” Corbin laughed. “What’s her name.”

“Rochelle DeMint.”

Beckett stepped forward. He’d been taking notes. “How can we contact Rochelle? Do you know her phone number?”