Fall Guy

some gold coins, two wrist-watches, a small silver box with the initials 'T.W.O.,' and some clothes that may or may not have belonged to Parker.“
    „And the winter coat?“
    „I imagine he'd planned on taking that as well.“
    „He and Tim were the same size?“
    „Wouldn't matter to Parker.“
    „You mean he had sticky fingers? It was there, he'd take it.“
    „Has sticky fingers,“ he said. „Don't turn your back when he's here packing up. And don't be afraid to question anything he claims is his. Anything you're unsure of. Anything that has value.“
    What difference would it make if he took Tim's clothes? I thought. Tim didn't need them any longer. But for Brody, it was the principle of the thing. So I didn't bother to voice my opinion.
    I stood and whistled for Dashiell. Brody stood as well. I picked up the briefcase and Dashiell's leash. Brody took the garbage bags. I walked out ahead of him but he didn't come right out. I waited on Horatio Street. I wasn't sure why. It seemed the polite thing to do.
    When he came out, a few minutes later, I opened a garbage can for him and he dropped in the bags. He'd bagged the empties, tying the tops of the bags as I had. It sounded like an explosion when they hit the can.
    „If there's anything else I can help you with, don't hesitate to call me. I put my cell phone number on the back of the card I gave you. Don't worry about the time. It's always on.“
    I took out one of my cards and gave it to Brody. „Same here,“ I said. „My cell phone number's on there, too, in case you think of anything else I should know.“
    I turned to leave, but curiosity got the best of me once again.
    „Was he your partner, Detective?“
    He blinked once.
    „No, Ms. Alexander. He wasn't.“
    He pointed east, his eyebrows, raised. I shook my head and pointed west. I'm sorry for your loss, I thought as I watched him head up the block. I was, too. For all the loss he saw.
    Even though it was out of the way, I headed toward the river. I'd wanted to get away from Brody and his unspoken grief. And from O'Fallon's apartment. At the moment, I was wishing I weren't quite so curious or quite so stubborn.
    Walking south along the Hudson, the breeze felt good on my face. Dashiell seemed to have forgotten the scents that had wafted toward him from under O'Fallon's closed bathroom door. He was now occupied with new smells, the air redolent of the fish and birds that populated the shoreline. My thoughts were still back in that apartment and I was barely aware of my surroundings. I didn't think Brody was being particularly forthcoming with me, which came as no surprise. I hadn't exactly been George Washington myself. Had Jin Mei not been out in the garden, I wouldn't have mentioned having been there earlier. Nor had I bothered to mention Mary Margaret's peculiar little note. I thought I'd speak to her first and find out what it meant, then tell Brody. Or not.
    I was thinking and acting as if I were on the job, a habit that had become a way of life for me, something I had in common with Timothy O'Fallon, never mind that it was something he never knew about. He hadn't told me he was a detective and I hadn't told him I was a private investigator. In fact, when someone else in the group had asked me what I did besides pet therapy, I'd lied, the same lie I'd told Brody, the same one that was on the business card I'd just given him. „Research,“ it said. Perhaps that was more of a half-truth than a lie. No one had asked what it meant and I hadn't volunteered anything further.
    Carrying O'Fallon's briefcase and lost in thought, I followed behind my dog, not paying any attention to where we were going. We ended up all the way down at Houston Street before I noticed, turned around and headed home.

CHAPTER 6
    The answering machine was blinking. I hit play.
    The first message began with someone coughing. „Be quiet. I'm on the phone here. Rachel, this is Parker, um, Parker Bowling. I need to get my things from Tim's apartment. I guess you're not home. I'll call you later.“ I could hear some noise in the background, as if he were calling from a restaurant or a bar.
    „Ms. Alexander, this is Maggie O'Fallon returning your call.“ There was a long pause, just short of disconnecting the answering machine. „You sounded ... it sounds as if this is something important, but you didn't say what it was about.“ Then she hung up.
    „Rachel, it's me again. I'll try you later.“ This time he must have