Right on the Money: An Emma Lathen Best Seller by Lathen Emma

Author:Lathen, Emma [Lathen, Emma]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Tags: -
Publisher: Simply Media
Published: 2016-11-21T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 16

BLACK TUESDAY

Christmas travel is a two-way street. While the management of the Ecker Company had been packing its bags for a long weekend, others were hastening from afar to enjoy the holiday at home. Among them was the only man whose name had not yet been crossed off the police list of those entering the Javits basement during the trade show.

The detective dispatched to the Long Island City offices of Xavier Trucking was not hopeful. He had already spent twelve interminable days on unproductive interviews. He had talked to security guards and maintenance men, to exhibitors and buyers, to electricians and PR men. Bruno Sclafani had simply proved harder to reach.

Nor was Sclafani please by the interruption to his first day back on the job.

“This will just take a minute,” Detective Heidt promised.

“Then let’s get on with it,” grumbled Bruno. “I’ve got a schedule to meet.”

“Your time slip for December tenth puts you at Javits sometime in the early afternoon. Do you remember that?”

Bruno nodded impatiently. “Sure, it was my last day before taking off. There was a big show there.”

“Good, now I’d like to get that time a little firmer if you can manage it.”

From a rear pocket, Bruno produced a much-thumbed logbook. Thereafter he conducted a monologue with himself.

“. . . holdup at the tunnel before my first delivery on the East Side . . . Markham Novelties at twelve forty-five . . . loading dock at Apollo Passementeries blocked—God, why don’t they do something about these out-of-towners?—finally dropped off at one thirty-five . . . Javits two twenty-five . . . That’s when I managed to get the signature in the middle of all that action. I must have parked around two-ten. Afterward, in my cab, I put my flimsies in order before crossing over to Jersey. It would have been five or ten minutes before three when I left.”

With the fluency that comes from frequent repetition, the detective outlined the geography of the basement with particular reference to the scene of the murder.

“How far were you parked from there?” he continued.

“The spots around all the freight elevators were filled. I could have been around a hundred and fifty feet from that one.”

Naturally, Heidt thought to himself. If there was a witness present at the right time, he would be too far away to see anything.

Nonetheless he plodded on. “Now, we’re interested in anyone getting into or out of that elevator. Try to recreate the scene in your mind and—”

“Oh, him,” Bruno said casually.

The detective tensed.

“Him?”

“Sure. I heard the elevator doors close, and when I looked up, there was this guy running away. He beat it right across the floor to the stairs and skedaddled up them.”

This was no time to startle a sitting bird. Trying to match Sclafani’s nonchalance, the detective said, “I realize you could only get a general impression. You were a long way off, so—”

Once again Bruno interrupted.

“I was a long way from the elevator,” he corrected, “but I was only two slots from the stairs and there’s a light over them.

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