P Is for Peril

the barbecued riblet laid out with all its accompaniments. The Jell-0 was green with a smattering of fruit cocktail submerged in its glowing depths. "Thank you," Ruby said, and then she smiled at me. "Will you come back and see me, dear? I like talking to you."
    "I'll do what I can. Tell you what-next time, I'll bring you a Quarter Pounder with Cheese."
    "And a Big Mac. I see those ads on television and they always look so good."
    "Believe me, they are. I'll bring you one of those, too." I walked down the hall as far as the staff lounge, where I stuck my head in and said, "I'm looking for Charles."
    The man I saw sitting at the table with the evening paper was in his fifties and was dressed in scrubs, like the woman bringing out the trays. He was a mild nut brown, and narrow through the shoulders, his arms hairless and scrawny. He set his paper aside and got to his feet politely to identify himself. "Charles Biedler," he said. "How may I help you, Miss?"
    I explained who I was and what I wanted, repeating the gist of what Ruby Curtsinger had told me. "I know you've answered these questions before, but it would really be a help if you'd tell me what you remember."
    "I could show you where he was parked and where I stood that night."
    "I'd love that," I said. He picked up a folded section of the paper and carried it with him as we moved toward the entrance. I paused to retrieve my umbrella and my slicker, which I held over my head like a yellow plastic tent. Charles used his newspaper as a rain hat and we hurried outside, hunched against the rain, which was blowing against us in gusts. Charles paused at the end of the walkway, pointing toward the cars. "See where that little blue VW's parked? Doctor's space was right there. I saw him crossing the lot and then he got in his car and pulled out right around to here."
    "You didn't see anyone else?"
    "No, but now that corner of the parking lot was darker at nine o'clock than it is right now. Warm that night. I was in my shirt sleeves like this only without the gooseflesh. I spoke to him like always, you know, calling out a word and he said something back, kind of bantering like."
    "There was nothing unusual?"
    "Not as I recall."
    "I'm trying to see this as you did. Ruby says he had his suit jacket over his arm. Did he carry anything else?"
    "I don't think so. I can't picture it if he did."
    "What about his car keys?"
    "I guess he must have had those in hand. I don't remember him reaching in his pocket."
    "So he unlocked the car door and then what?"
    "I don't remember nothing about that."
    "Did the interior light go on?"
    "Might have. After he got in, he sat a while and then he started up the engine and swung around this way so he could drive out the front."
    "Was that his pattern?"
    Charles blinked, shaking his head. "Most times."
    His newspaper was getting soaked and I knew it was time to retreat to the overhang.
    "Let's get out of this rain," I said.
    We headed back to the entrance, pausing again just outside the front door.
    I said, "Was there anything else? Anything at all, even if it seems trivial."
    "He didn't call out good-night like he usually did when he drove past. Last thing he'd do, he used to wave and shake a finger, kind of teasing me like, because I told him I quit smoking."
    "Was the car window down?"
    "I couldn't say for sure."
    "You didn't see anyone in the car with him?"
    Charles shook his head.
    "Are you sure?"
    "Pretty sure. And truthfully, that's as much as I know."
    "Well, I appreciate your time. If you should think of anything else, would you give me a call?" I took a business card from my bag and handed it to him. "I can be reached at this number. There's a machine if I'm gone."
    As I left the porch and started out across the parking lot, I turned and waved. Charles was still there, staring after me.
    I sat in my car for a while, thinking about the fact that I was parked right where Dow Purcell had been on the night of September 12 I did a 180 survey, turning my head. What had happened to him? The rain kept tapping on my car roof like the restless drumming of fingers on a tabletop. He hadn't been assaulted. He'd gotten in his car and he'd sat there a while… doing what? I started the car and backed out of the space, heading, as Purcell had, toward Dave Levine Street. I glanced back at the building. Charles was gone by then. The walk was empty and the rain slanting against the light made the entrance seem bleak.
    I turned right, scanning the street