Part 24 (1/2)

”Excuse me?”

”Muggers are rarely armed with anything more than a knife. A professional thief, for lack of a better word, who went to the Penn Services Parking Garage knowing that there would be a number of well-to-do people using it at that time, would be more likely to take a shotgun with him. Not intending to shoot anyone but for its psychological effect.”

”Yes,” Detweiler said.

”And his plans could have gone astray, and he found himself having to use it.”

”Yes, I see,” Detweiler said.

”Was your daughter wearing any valuable jewelry, Mr. Detweiler?”

”I don't think so,” Detweiler said. ”She doesn't have any. Some pearls. All girls have pearls. But nothing really valuable.” He looked at Matt and grinned. ”Matt hasn't seen fit to offer her an engagement ring yet. ...”

”A brooch? A pin of some sort?” Was.h.i.+ngton said, pursuing the matter.

”She has a pin, a brooch”-he gestured at his chest to show where a female would wear such an ornament-”from my wife's mother. She could have been wearing that. It has some rubies or whatever, in a band of-what do they call those little diamonds?-chips?”

”I believe so,” Was.h.i.+ngton said.

”She could have been wearing that,” Detweiler said.

”There was no such pin in her personal effects,” Was.h.i.+ngton said. ”Do you happen to know where she kept it?”

”In her room, I suppose,” Detweiler said. ”Do you think we should check to see if it's there?”

”I think we should,” Was.h.i.+ngton said.

Detweiler led them up a narrow flight of stairs from the serving pantry to the second floor and then into Penelope's bedroom. There was a Moroccan leather jewelry case, sort of a miniature chest of drawers, on a vanity table. Detweiler went to it and searched through it and found nothing.

”It's not here,” he said. ”But let me check with my wife. She needed a lay-down when we came back from the hospital.”

Was.h.i.+ngton nodded sympathetically.

”I hate to disturb her,” he said.

”Nonsense, she'd want to help,” Detweiler said, and walked out of the room.

Was.h.i.+ngton immediately picked up a wastebasket beside the vanity table and dumped the contents on the floor. He squatted and flicked through with his fingers, picking up a couple of items and putting them in his pocket. Then, very quickly, he was erect again.

”Fix that,” he ordered, and moved toward a double mirrored-door closet. Matt set the wastebasket upright and began to replace what Was.h.i.+ngton had dumped on the floor.

When he was finished, he turned to see what Was.h.i.+ngton was doing. He was methodically patting down the clothing hanging in the closet, dipping his hands in every pocket. Matt saw him stuffing small items-including what, at quick glance, appeared to be some sort of plastic vial-in his pocket.

And then Mrs. H. Richard Detweiler appeared in the doorway, just a moment after Was.h.i.+ngton had slid closed the mirrored door.

”I think this is what you were looking for,” she said, holding up a gold brooch.

”h.e.l.lo, Mrs. Detweiler,” Matt said. ”Mrs. Detweiler, this is Detective Was.h.i.+ngton.”

”I'm Grace Detweiler. How do you do?” she said, flas.h.i.+ng a quick smile. Then she turned to Matt. ”I don't know what to think about you. It's natural to see you here, under these absolutely horrible circ.u.mstances, but not as a policeman. I really don't quite know what to make of that.”

”We're trying to find out what happened to Penny,” Matt said.

”You're driving your mother to distraction, you know,” she said. ”I can't fathom your behavior.”

”Grace,” H. Richard Detweiler said, ”that's none of your business.”

”Yes it is,” she snapped. ”Patricia is one of my dearest friends, and I've known Matt since he was in diapers.”

”Matt's no longer a child,” Detweiler said. ”He can make his own decisions about what he wants to do with his life.”

”Why am I not surprised you'd say something like that?” she replied. ”Well, all right then, Mr. Policeman, what do you think happened to Penny?”

”Right now we think she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time,” Matt said.

”How can parking your car in a public garage be the wrong place?” she snapped.

”We think she was probably an innocent bystander,” Matt said.

”Probably? What do you mean, 'probably'? What other explanation could there possibly be?”

”Ma'am, we try to check out everything,” Was.h.i.+ngton said. ”That's why we were interested in the jewelry.”

”Penny doesn't have any good jewelry,” she said.

”They didn't know that until they asked,” Detweiler said. ”Ease off, Grace.”

Was.h.i.+ngton gave him a grateful look.

”Mrs. Detweiler, what about money?” Was.h.i.+ngton asked.

”What about it?”

”Did Miss Detweiler habitually carry large amounts of cash?”

”No,” she said, ”she didn't. It's not safe to carry cash, or anything else of value, in your purse these days.”

”Yes, ma'am, I'm afraid you're right about that,” Was.h.i.+ngton agreed. ”You would say, then, that it's probable she didn't have more than a hundred dollars in her purse?”

”I would be very surprised if she had more than-actually, as much as-fifty dollars. She had credit cards, of course.”

”There were seven or eight of those in her purse,” Was.h.i.+ngton said. ”They weren't stolen.”

”Well, this pretty much shoots down your professional-thief theory then, doesn't it, Mr. Was.h.i.+ngton?” H. Richard Detweiler said.

”Yes, sir. It certainly looks that way, doesn't it? We're back to Matt's theory that Miss Detweiler was an innocent bystander.''

”Does that mean that whoever did this to my daughter is going to get away with it?” Grace Detweiler asked unpleasantly.