Three-Day Town - By Margaret Maron Page 0,82

victim and who hasn’t been seen since.”

“One never knows,” he said.

She accepted the wine he poured for her and settled onto the couch, not entirely reluctant to rehash the facts. Soon she would have to go to her computer and tell her mother the bad news. For the moment, though, she would relax and indulge his curiosity about her work.

Ever since he wound up in the middle of a murder in a children’s dance theater, Roman’s quirky logic had often cast a new light on her cases. Summing up the sequence of events would clarify things for her as well. So she began with Deborah Knott’s phone call on Saturday and ended with finding the day man in one of those industrial-size trash bags, ready to be set out on the curb. Without mentioning Lundigren’s true gender, she described his wife’s kleptomania and psychological problems and her insistence that there was another thief in the building. “We’d begun to think he was both the other thief and the killer. Instead, he’s another victim.”

“And the boy you thought was the victim is now your prime suspect?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Not one of the other workmen in the building?”

“Sidney Jackson, the evening man, lives in Queens and was on duty during the party. He left before midnight and didn’t return till he was called to come in Sunday morning. He lives alone, but he gave us the name of the all-night deli where he stopped on the way home and the name of the café where he was eating breakfast when the call came. The night man, Jani Horvath, was there on Saturday night before the super was killed and he was there when Antoine Clarke was killed. He’s getting old and he says he immediately went to bed when Clarke relieved him. We haven’t confirmed either alibi yet, and we don’t have motives for them, although…”

“Although what?” Tramegra asked, pouncing on her hesitation.

“Horvath’s in his sixties and he had the day shift until shortly after Clarke was hired, when they switched shifts. It was supposed to be a mutually agreeable change. We’ve been told that tips are better on the day shift, but that there’s more work, more heavy lifting, and he has a bad back. Now I wonder whose idea it was to make the switch and whether Horvath really didn’t mind giving up the extra tips.”

“What about the super’s wife?”

“She could have followed him upstairs and smashed him with that bronze sculpture, but she was in the hospital when Clarke was killed and it’s a stretch to think we have two killers on our hands.”

“Residents?”

“No love lost between the super and the people who live in the apartment directly overhead. In fact they’re being evicted and blame the super. Unfortunately, they have a solid alibi for the time of the super’s death. So far, Corey Wall’s looking good for both murders. He needs money for gambling. He crashed the party and could have realized this was a good opportunity to loot a fresh apartment. Let’s say Lundigren caught him there, threatened to have him arrested. The boy hits him with the sculpture and runs out the service door. Either Antoine sees him leave or somehow figures it out. Next morning, when he starts down to go sledding, Antoine lets him know that the tables are turned. It could be a Mexican standoff—‘You turn me in for stealing, I’ll say you killed Phil’—or Antoine realizes that murder trumps larceny and tries to blackmail Corey, whereupon Corey kills him, panics, and stashes the body in one of those wheeled bins and hopes it won’t be found till he’s long gone. He’s just a kid, so it wasn’t well thought out. Both murders were probably unpremeditated impulses.”

Tramegra frowned and topped off their glasses. “Not much mystery there,” he objected.

“It’s not one of your novels,” Sigrid conceded. “But I’ve told you before, Roman. Real homicides are usually open and shut. Corey Wall will be picked up in the next few days. He’ll be charged and he will eventually be found guilty. It’s as simple as that. The only puzzle left is who took the sculpture, and we even have a possible for that.”

Roman sniffed. “Maybe that’s how your case will end. I’ve just realized that the killer in my case is the least likely person. The dean’s secretary. She’s been in almost every scene, but no one’s paid her any attention because she’s homely and timid. She was tired of the dean flirting with all