Page 51 of Deathmarch
“I hope so. Quick question. Were you out here Monday evening in that storm?”
“Not the whole time. It turned pretty nasty pretty fast. Froze my balls off. My heater’s on the blink.”
“But you kept the lot clear?”
“Monday and any other day, all through winter. Too many older people in the apartments. Never know when one of them might need an ambulance.” He shrugged. “I came out every hour or so. Snow’s easier to keep up with if I don’t let it pile up more than a few inches.”
Harper nodded. “You know Grambus’s car, right?”
Jose pointed to the Cadillac without having to look around first. Either he’d already noted it as he was working on the parking lot, or Grambus liked to park in the same place.
“Would you remember if it was moved Monday night at all?”
Jose thought for a moment before he shook his head. “I don’t think so, but I can’t tell you for sure. Snow was coming down hard. I wasn’t keeping track of individual cars. I was just making sure not to hit them.”
“Thanks, man. I’ll let you get back to work. Next time you come into Finnegan’s with Martina, I owe you guys a beer.”
Harper jumped into his cruiser and turned the key in the ignition, then pulled out his list. Dave Grambus got a check mark. Initial interview completed. Harper didn’t draw a line over the name, however. Motive was likely a bust. But, either way, Grambus had no alibi, so he would remain on the suspect list.
He checked the remaining names, decided onLouis Brown next. But before that, he wanted to swing by and see Allie. And first, he needed to do something else.
* * *
Allie tossed a log into the fireplace in her room at the bed-and-breakfast and used the poker to make sure it was far enough in not to roll back out onto the carpet.
Her stomach growled. Every imaginable food waited in the restaurants of Main Street, but she didn’t feel like being stared at.Nobody’s ever died from skipping a couple of meals.
Her stomach growled again, possibly loud enough to wake up her guardian angel, because a knock sounded on the door, and Shannon O’Brian said on the other side, “I brought you something, dear.”
Allie hurried to let her in.
The woman held out a stack of T-shirts for her. “All clean. Too small for me these days. I thought you might like…”
“Thank you, Mrs. O’Brian. I could seriously use some clothes. I really appreciate it.”
Allie rifled through the shirts, pulled out one that was brand-new, then unfolded it, unable to hold back a surprised laugh. “This might be my favorite.”
The print on the T-shirt said: BITCH ON WHEELS.
She turned the shirt toward Shannon.
“Oh, my goodness! I’m so sorry. I didn’t look at them, just grabbed them from the shelf. I was in a wheelchair for a while last summer after surgery. My sister sent me this shirt. Sixty-five now, and she’ll never grow up. I’m so embarrassed,” Shannon pressed a hand to her chest.
“If you don’t want it, please let me keep it. It’d cheer me up no end.”
“If you’re sure. But you can’t tell anyone you got it from me.”
“I promise.”
Shannon dropped her hand. “I would have brought you some pants too, but none of mine would fit.”
“It’s all right. Thank you. I’ll be getting my suitcases back soon, I think.”
“All right, dear.” Mrs. O’Brian offered a still distraught but sincere smile. “I’ll leave you to your evening.”
Allie had barely pulled the T-shirt over her prison overalls, to make them a little less depressing, when another knock sounded.
“It’s Harper. Open the door.”
