Page 20

CHAPTER 20

AS USUAL, POE’S sleek blue Road Runner turned heads as he sliced through crosstown traffic. The powerful Plymouth was the latest addition to his impressive muscle car collection, and it was a real attention-getter.

Marple was not impressed at all. She ignored the gawkers as she tapped her fingers on the passenger-side armrest. When they reached the Holland Tunnel under the Hudson River, traffic appeared to be backed up for the entire length of the tube.

“We would have been better off on a moped,” said Marple.

“How far is Keelin Dale’s place?” asked Poe, straining against his seat belt as traffic inched forward.

“About half an hour,” said Marple, “if you can ever get us out of this wormhole.” She could tell that Poe was resisting the urge to hit the car’s horn, with its ridiculous cartoon beep-beep. When they finally broke into daylight on the Jersey side of the tunnel, they passed a pair of parked police cars at the exit, lights flashing.

“Maybe we should ask for an escort,” said Marple.

“I doubt they could keep up,” muttered Poe. Marple realized that he felt the need to reassert his vehicle’s dominance. He revved the Plymouth’s hefty V8 and roared around the southbound curve of Route 78. Marple held on tight as Poe did his best to blast past every vehicle in his path.

Less than ten minutes later, they entered the downscale Greenville neighborhood, a mix of prewar apartment buildings and single-family homes. Poe pulled into a space across from a renovated two-unit frame house with matching front doors.

“Keelin’s place is on the left,” said Marple, sliding out of her seat.

They walked up the steps and looked around. Traffic on the side street was light, and the only pedestrian in sight was an Amazon driver stepping back into his truck a few houses up. Marple knocked on the door while Poe pressed his face against the front window.

“Anything?” asked Marple.

Poe shook his head. He waited for a few seconds, then pulled a thin metal tool from his pocket.

The lock was nothing special. A stainless-steel Defiant, probably twenty-five bucks from Home Depot. Poe had it open in ten seconds. He put his hand on his Glock in its holster. Marple looked for an alarm pad or a trip wire. Listened for a dog. Scanned for cameras. Nothing. The place was quiet, and all the lights were off.

Marple stepped in beside Poe as he closed the door.

“Keelin?” she called out. “Miss Dale? Anybody home?”

No response.

They moved slowly through the living room toward the back of the unit. The apartment was small but tidy, furnished in contemporary young-adult style. Lots of medium-grade furniture, a good-sized TV, and a few discount-store shelf units.

As Marple walked through the archway into the small kitchen, she saw Poe’s head whip around, as if he’d heard something.

Then she heard it too.

A baby crying.