Page 10 of Tightrope

“I told you, Pickwell is dead.”

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean you can destroy his possessions. His family will probably arrive in a day or so to claim his things. What am I supposed to tell them when they see that someone took a knife to his suitcase?”

“Send them to me.”

There was no sign of a false bottom or a secret compartment in the suitcase. He went to the closet. When he opened the door he saw a navy blue jacket and a pair of cream-colored trousers.

“Those were the clothes he was wearing when he arrived on the train today,” Amalie said. “I remember asking him about the robot. He said he had shipped it in a wooden crate that was taken from the baggage car to the theater by his assistant.”

Matthias glanced at her. “The assistant’s name is Charlie Hubbard. He disappeared tonight. The police are looking for him. Did Pickwell book a room for Hubbard?”

“No, at least not here at my inn. He said that his assistant was going to stay with the robot at all times until the demonstration. I got the feeling Hubbard’s job was to guard Futuro.”

“Interesting.”

“Pickwell may have put Hubbard up at a less expensive hotel or auto court. The Hidden Beach is not exactly the cheapest place in town,” Amalie said. “Do the police think he had something to do with Futuro murdering Pickwell?”

“Hubbard was either involved or else he had the bad luck to be an innocent bystander who knew too much for his own good. He’s the one person who was in a position to know what was going on backstage.”

“There was no one else behind the curtain?”

“No, just Hubbard. The manager at the Palace said Pickwell insisted that only his assistant be allowed backstage.”

“Pickwell was probably afraid that someone might steal Futuro,” Amalie said.

“I doubt it. The thing must weigh nearly two hundred pounds. It would be hard to carry it off without drawing a lot of attention. Best guess? Hubbard is connected to the shooting. He was the last person to have access to the robot. One way or another I doubt he’ll be alive for long.”

“Why do you say that?” Amalie whispered, clearly stunned.

“He played his part and is no longer needed.”

“Whodoesn’t need him?”

“Forget it,” Matthias said. “How many suitcases did Pickwell have with him when he checked in?”

Amalie concentrated, visibly trying to refocus her thoughts. “Two. I helped him with his luggage. One was the grip the robot carried onstage. It was very heavy. Dr. Pickwell was alarmed when I went to pick it up. He insisted on carrying it upstairs himself. I thought he was being a gentleman.”

“No, he was protecting what was inside. He didn’t want to let it out of his sight, not even for a moment.”

“He said it contained some equipment that he needed for the demonstration. Why are you so interested in Pickwell’s luggage?”

“Because there seem to be a number of suitcases floating around in this affair.”

Amalie shuddered. “This is all so bizarre. I still can’t bring myself to believe that Dr. Pickwell was murdered by a robot.”

“Neither can I.”

Amalie eyed him thoughtfully. “Then what, exactly, did happen tonight?”

“I don’t know but I intend to find out,” he said.

He continued moving methodically around the room, openingdrawers, looking under the bed, removing cushions from chairs, and examining the back of the drapes. But he was pretty sure now that he was just going through the motions. Still, he had to be certain.

When he was finished, he walked into the bath and went through the process again.

Amalie came to stand in the doorway. “You know, if you told me exactly what you’re looking for, I might be able to help you.”

He opened a cupboard. “I’m searching for something, anything, that will provide me with a lead.”