Part 2 (2/2)
Abigail did the lip quiver thing again.
”Oh my goodness, I didn't even think of that. Please don't make Julia into baggage.”
More tears.
”Calm down. Don't cry. You'll ruin your...uh...make-up.”
I offered her a handkerchief. She dabbed at her eyes and handed it back to me.
It looked like it had been tie-dyed.
”I think I have two or three dollars in my purse,” she rasped in her smoker voice. ”Is that okay?”
What the h.e.l.l. I took it.
”I'll take those Tic-Tacs, too.”
She handed them over. Wint-O-Green.
”Can we go now?”
”Go ahead.”
She turned to leave the alley, and a thought occurred to me.
”Ms. c.u.mmings! When the police came to visit you to look for Marcus, did you have an alibi?”
She glanced over her shoulder and nodded vigorously.
”That's the point. The day Vincent said he brought the dog to my house, I wasn't home. I was enjoying the third day of an Alaskan Cruise.”
Vincent Thorpe was waiting for me when I got back to my office. He carefully scanned the floor before approaching my desk.
”That's not Marcus! That's not even a Shar-pei!”
”We'll discuss that later.”
”Where's Marcus?”
”There have been some complications.”
”Complications?” Thorpe leaned in closer, raised an eyebrow. ”What happened to your face?”
”I think I'm allergic to wool.”
”It looks like you rubbed your cheeks with sandpaper.”
I wrote, ”I hate him” on my notepad.
”Look, Mr. Thorpe, Abigail c.u.mmings doesn't have Marcus. But I may have an idea who does.”
”Who?”
”First, I need to ask you a few questions...”
My face was too sore for the ski mask again, so I opted for a nylon stocking.
It was hot.
I s.h.i.+fted positions on the branch I was sitting on, and took another look through the binoculars.
Nothing. The backyard was quiet. But thirty feet away, next to a holly bush, was either a small, brown anthill, or evidence that there was a dog on the premises.
I took out my pencil and reviewed my stake-out sheet.
9:46pm-Climbed tree.
9:55pm-My face hurts.
10:07pm-It really hurts bad.
10:22pm-I think I'll go see a doctor.
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