Page 65 of Line of Sight

“These gentlemen from the police have a few questions.” And with that, Tupi left them with Angelo.

Gary showed him photos of the four. “I know it was a year ago, but do you remember these people?”

Angelo studied the photos, his brow furrowed. Then he smiled. “Yes.” He pointed to the picture of Jennifer. “She was flirting with me all night. I was disappointed when she didn’t ask for my number before she left, especially after all that effort. She must’ve been about my age too. I was surprised. Usually women like her go for Paolo or Giani.” He chuckled. “You know, the younger, pretty ones.”

“What about her?” Gary pointed to Amy.

Angelo frowned. “Ithinkshe was there. Or at least someone who looked like her. She didn’t stick out as much as the other lady. Kinda quiet. Not the kind of woman you’d notice.”

“She didn’t leave the restaurant during the meal?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe she went to the restroom?”

“Do you keep records?” Dan inquired. “Can you see who made the booking?”

“It’s all online, so probably. Let me check.” Angelo went to a monitor and tapped on the keyboard. “Do you have the date?”

Gary consulted his notes. “Yes. January 19, 2018.”

Angelo scrolled with the mouse. “Okay, it was booked by Amy Walsh for five people. That’s right, there was a no-show.”

They thanked him and left.

As they walked to the car, Riley mused aloud. “I suppose there wasn’t time for her to go to the restroom, sneak out the back way, drive to Waltham, kill Murphy, then speed back to the restaurant.”

Gary chuckled. “Not unless she was in the restroom for an hour. But a table for five? That interests me, especially that she booked it. Amy neglected to mention that part.”

Did the mystery guest cry off because something else turned up?

Like, they had to murder Jeff Murphy.

Chapter Forty-Five

Monday, November 20, 2017

I HAVEto admit, I thought I was done with my Secret Murder Club. There’d been no word from any of them since I dispatched Jason’s wife. What delighted me most about that one? I’d been right. Talk about a landslide. Jason Kelly had been elected on a tsunami of public sympathy. Maine’s citizens had been captivated by the tragic narrative of a devoted wife murdered in cold blood.

Yeah, devoted my ass.

They had no idea of the lengths their senator had been willing to go to in order to achieve his lifelong ambition. Not that he’d ever thanked me. None of them had.

Hell, I didn’t want their thanks, but it would’ve been nice if they’d shown one iota of gratitude.

Amy’s call came right out of the blue. Of all of them, I thought she would have been the only one not to take me up on my offer.

I guess times change. So do people. Maybe she had fewer scruples. And as it turned out, yeah, her scruples were almost nonexistent.

I waited for her to speak, curious to know who she wanted dispatched. There could be no other reason for her call.

“Hey. It’s Amy Walsh. From UMass? How are you doing?”

That cheery, false bonhomie made my skin crawl.

“You didn’t call me to check up on my health and well-being, did you? Or to wish me a happy Thanksgiving.”

“I-I need your help.”

I reached for a notepad and pen. “Okay, I’m listening.”