The Quotient of Murder by Camille Minichino

Author:Camille Minichino [Minichino, Camille]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: cozy mystery, female sleuth
Publisher: Crossroad Press
Published: 2019-10-13T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

Virgil was quiet, kindly giving me a moment to absorb the news of the missing Wendy, and his marching orders for me. I wished I were in the wind also, maybe in some alternate universe where the last few days could start over. I’d asked twice whether Virgil was sure the BPD had the right Wendy Carlson, not such an unusual name. He’d assured me the Wendy Carlson who’d been Kirsten Packard’s roommate at Henley and now worked at the BPL was indeed the fugitive.

“Fugitive’s a little drastic, isn’t it?” I asked, loudly, still rattled.

“Sophie, you need to listen carefully,” Virgil said.

“What happened to ‘It’s all okay’? You just said, ‘It’s all okay’.”

“What’s your room number there, Sophie?” Virgil’s voice became softer and softer as mine went in the opposite direction.

“Fifteen ten,” I said, finally coming down in volume.

“A BPD car is on the way to your hotel. An officer should arrive at your door in less than twenty minutes. Pack up. You probably don’t have a lot of luggage.” We both chuckled, to release a morsel of tension.

“They’re going to take you to their station in Boston until the weather’s okay to drive home. You’ll ride to the police station with an officer; another will follow, driving your car.”

“Why is this all necessary? What’s going on, Virgil?” My moments of calm hadn’t lasted long.

“Is it clear what’s going to happen next?” Virgil’s voice was firm.

“It’s clear.”

“And you can be ready when they get there?”

“Yes. And thanks. I’m not sure exactly why, but thanks.”

I sat on my bed, hotel-white, with deep maroon accents, waiting for the Boston police to pick me up. I faced the window and would have enjoyed the great view, the city lights, the sturdy brick buildings, but instead I envisioned Wendy down there, alone and running. Had I frightened her that badly? Had one of the Kirsten’s unsavory friends contacted her? Threatened her? And, the worst thought, was it all my fault?

Then another possibility came to me. What if Wendy was not fleeing Kirsten’s old friends? What if she was running from the police? She might have realized that she’d all but confessed to obstruction of justice and didn’t want to face charges. I had no idea whether, given the coroner’s ruling of suicide, there would even be any charges after all this time. Wendy would be smart enough to research that before making any drastic moves. And she had a world class library at her disposal.

Virgil mentioned that Wendy lived in Newton Highlands, one of the more pricey neighborhoods in Suffolk County. On a librarian’s salary. Was she bought off by the Packards? I stopped that train of thought. When did I become a conspiracy theorist? I had no right to judge her. It was never that simple; she might work three other jobs, or she might have inherited a house, just as I had. In truth, I knew nothing of Wendy’s financial situation and had no reason to suspect her of any wrongdoing.

I blamed Virgil.

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