exploring this room.
A walnut desk sat against one wall. Pollock was either very neat or he didnât really do any work at this desk. The top was bare except for an inkwell and a few knickknacks,and it had been polished to a shine. She checked the drawers but found nothing of interest there either. If Pollock kept money in the house, he probably had a more secure location than an unlocked desk. Two ugly landscape paintings hung on the walls, but neither concealed a wall safe. Pollock had no bookshelves to conceal hidden passages the way they did in novels, and the only other furnishings in the room were two comfortable-looking leather armchairs and the table between them.
Maeve sat down in one of the chairs and looked around the room again, wondering what sheâd missed. Thatâs when she noticed the table between the two chairs was rather oddly sized. The cube-shaped object seemed a bit too short for the job and, beneath a collection of singularly ugly knickknacks, was completely covered with what looked like a large silk scarf. The only reason you hid something with a scarf was because you didnât want anyone to see how old and battered it was, but everything else in this house was bright and shiny and new.
Maeve lifted the scarf and found a squat and ugly but very sturdy-looking safe.
Maeve sighed. Gino had been right about Pollock having a safe. Heâd been concerned she wouldnât be able to open it, of course, and that was a legitimate concern. He probably couldnât imagine someone like herself being able to crack a safe either. That would, of course, be a valuable skill to have, especially at this particular moment. Her grandfather had taught her many things, but not that, unfortunately. He had, however, taught her another skill that might serve her even better. This time when she searched Pollockâs desk, she checked his nearly blank appointment diary more carefully and found the series of numbers heâd written at the bottom of the very last page in pencil.
As she had hoped, they opened the safe on the second tryâPollock had been clever enough to list the numbers backward in case someone found them and guessed what they were. The safe opened with a satisfying click when she lifted the lever. Sheâd hoped to find a few hundred dollars inside that Mrs. OâNeill could use for a lawyer, but what she did find sent her rearing back with a most unladylike yelp.
2
P olice Headquarters was unusually quiet when Gino arrived that morning. Of course, he was early for his shift because he wanted to see what he could find out about the Pollock murder, and early morning was that calm period of the day when the drunks from the night before were safely locked up and sleeping it off and the evildoers of the daylight hours hadnât gotten started yet.
The desk sergeant gave him a knowing grin, obviously remembering the to-do about Maeveâs phone message the day before. âSo, whenâs the wedding?â
âNothing so drastic,â Gino said, grinning back. âShe just missed me.â
âIs she that girl what works for Mrs. Brandt?â
Everyone at Headquarters knew Mrs. Brandt. âSheâs Mrs. Malloy now,â Gino reminded him. âAnd yes, Miss Smith works for her.â
âAh yes, Mrs. Malloy,â the sergeant mused. âThat lucky bastard Malloy.â
Gino wasnât sure if the sergeant thought Malloy was lucky because of his sudden wealth or his marriage to Mrs. Brandt, but he said, âI donât know about luck. After what happened to that Pollock fellow yesterday, marriage isnât looking too good to me.â
From his high desk the sergeant nodded at Gino. âYouâre right. Poor fellow. Although whoâs to say he didnât deserve it, eh?â
âYeah, a woman doesnât usually bash her husband on the head for no reason. Did you hear anything about him?â
The sergeant shrugged. âNothing