Page 46 of The Burnt
“If it was anyone else, I’d say no,” Martin admitted, “but for old times’ sake and a few of the nights we spent together, I’ll do it. Shoot.”
Declan rhymed off the plate number.
“Got it,” Martin said. “I’ll run that licence number for you as soon as I can. I’ve got a few things to do first. Apparently, because they pay me, the AMA wants me to take care of their work first.”
“I appreciate it. Talk to you later. Call me when you find out anything.”
Declan hung up, then called Katherine O’Grady.
“You again,” she answered.
Declan grinned. “Yup. The bad penny calls. Listen, I was thinking of popping by, if that’s okay with you. I want to show you a picture and see if it looks familiar. Would you mind?”
“If it’s somethin’ from years gone by, I wouldn’t count on it. My memory’s not what it used to be, if it ever was in the first place.”
“No,” Declan assured her, “if you recognise this guy, you would have seen him recently.”
“Mysterious, but sure. Come over whenever you want. I’m not goin’ anywhere.”
“I’ll be there around two o’clock,” Declan replied, then disconnected.
I hope this works…
He wasn’t going to hold his breath, but he’d rather be surprised than not to have tried at all.
* * * *
For the third time, Declan stood in front of the door at Katherine’s home and rang the doorbell. As he waited, he looked around. There was no sign of any police presence, but given that forensics would have wrapped up their work by now, there would be little more to discover at Archie’s place…unless the murderer returned to the scene of the crime.
He heard a door close and the sound of feet crunching on snow. Katherine was making her way home from Archie’s place.
“You know, if it would be easier for you, I could just rent you a room. The commute here must be tirin’,” she said, squeezing past Declan and unlocking her front door.
“In case you were worried, I wasn’t destroyin’ evidence. I was just checkin’ up on things over there. Just ’cause Archie’s gone doesn’t mean I can’t take care of the house. I’m responsible for itas the executor of his will. Don’t want the heat to go off and the pipes to freeze. I suppose you want to talk to me inside?”
“If it’s okay with you.”
“Boots off. Don’t want muck tracked into my house.”
Declan stepped in, removed his boots, and placed them on the tray by the closet. He hung his coat on the hook by the door and followed Katherine into the kitchen.
“I suppose you want acrème de menthe?” she asked.
“Love one. Thanks,” he lied, settling into what had become his chair.
She smiled. “Don’t know many men who like the drink. Good to find a kindred spirit.”
She poured two small glasses. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
Declan pulled out his phone. “I want you to have a look at a set of pictures of a guy and tell me if he looks familiar.” He passed the phone over to Katherine. “Take your time. You can swipe right to see pictures two and three.”
Katherine stared intently at the screen, flipping back and forth between images. She seemed to always return to the second picture. Whenever she was looking at it, she raised her eyebrows slightly.
Damn it if Charlie hasn’t struck gold with that program of his.
“This one,” she said, sliding the phone back to Declan.
“Are you sure?” Declan asked.
