Page 44 of Deathmarch

Harper pulled out his notebook and pen.

“Dave Grambus,” Frank said. “Brody Cash. Dicky Poole.” And he kept going until Harper had ten names on the paper.

“A pretty large circle of friends for a recluse.”

“We only met once a month in person.”

Harper added Francis Carmelo to the bottom of the list and put a check mark to it, indicating that Frank had been interviewed. He didn’t cross off the name since Frank didn’t have an alibi.

“We couldn’t find Chuck’s car. You know where it might be?”

“Kept it in the driveway, rain or shine.” Frank thought for a second. “On account of the coming storm, might have pulled it into the garage. Did you check there?”

Harper nodded.

“Didn’t the Bianchi girl have it when you caught her?”

“She was in her own vehicle.”

Frank thought for a second. “Might be right, then, about the accomplice.”

Harper asked him a dozen more questions, but gained no helpful information, nothing to point him in the right direction.

He finally put his notebook away and stood. “I appreciate the help, Frank.”

“You find out anything, you let me know,” the old man said, his brown eyes suddenly flinty, as if he might have some vigilante justice in mind.

“I’ll let you know when I can.” Harper turned back from the door. “One more thing. Who has the access code to the safe at Chuck’s place?”

“We all do. Why wouldn’t we? It’s our stuff in there.”

Yet the keypad had been busted. Harper paused for another question. “Was the pass code ever changed?”

“Sure. Chuck changed it from time to time, then let us know. Called around. Never put it in writing.” He tapped his temple.

“On a regular schedule?”

“Supposed to. But mostly when he remembered to do it.”

Did that make it less likely that one of the preppers was the killer? Not really. The killer could have gotten the goods out of the safe,thenbusted the lock. Like he’d done with the front door, to throw off the investigation.

Harper made a mental note to call in an expert on the safe.

Also, it was possible that Lamm had changed the code but hadn’t had a chance yet to call his buddies. The killer, not realizing this, came and murdered the old man, then, when his pass code didn’t work, he had to resort to busting the lock open.

“Mind telling me how much money you all had stashed away?”

Pride washed over Frank’s face. His chin came up. “Half a million in gold, about twenty thousand in silver.”

“Thank you. That helps.”

“And I expect you to recover every bullion and coin.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll do my best.”

He called Chase as he drove out of the development. “Were there any fingerprints on the keypad?”

“Lamm’s. If anyone else touched it, they wore gloves.”