Worst Fears Realized

it was on the top floor, and this is the only apartment on twelve. The elevator moved down to six, stopped, then continued to the ground floor. Where was it when you got here?”
    “On the ground floor,” Anderson said.
    “Then, unless another tenant or a visitor used the elevator between the time I got to this floor and the time you arrived, the perp waited on six until the car stopped up here and I got out, then he rang for itagain and rode it down to the ground floor.”
    “Pretty cool,” Dino said.
    “Yes, pretty cool,” Stone agreed.
    The uniformed cop returned. “A Miss Bean ordered the food by phone; the time is written on the check, right here,” he said, placing the check on the table. “A man arrived to pick up the food half an hour later, waited five minutes, paid for it, and left. He was over six feet, blond hair, medium to heavy build, dressed in a raincoat.”
    Anderson looked at the check and did some mental calculating. “That checks with your story, Mr. Barrington,” he said.
    “Measure the water in the kettle,” Stone said.
    “What?”
    “When I left, Susan said she was going to make some tea. Let’s find out how long it takes for the same amount of water to boil. That might help with the time frame.”
    “Do it, Mick,” Anderson said. Kelly got up and went into the kitchen.
    They continued talking until the kettle started to whistle. Anderson looked at his watch. “I make it three and a half minutes.”
    “How much water was in the kettle?” Stone asked Kelly.
    “A little under three cups,” Kelly replied sullenly.
    “Here’s one scenario, then,” Stone said. “The killer arrives shortly after I leave. Within three and a half minutes. He kills her, then the kettle starts whistling. He turns off the kettle.”
    “Why?” Kelly asked.

    “Because nobody can stand around and listen to a kettle screaming like that,” Stone said. “Let’s see, five minutes for me to walk to the restaurant, I wait five minutes, and five minutes to come back, say fifteen to eighteen minutes. And when I get back, the killer is still in the apartment, maybe. So if he is, what does he do for fifteen minutes?”
    “Searches the place,” Anderson said. “A robbery, maybe.”
    The second uniform spoke up. “I had a look in the bedroom,” he said. “Neat as a pin. There’s a jewelry box on the dresser with some nice-looking stuff in it.”
    “So it wasn’t a robbery,” Anderson said. “What was he looking for?”
    “Something of value only to him,” Dino replied, standing up and walking to a desk in the living room. He opened the drawers one at a time, including a file drawer, then came back. “Everything is neat. No way to tell if the killer found something.”
    Kelly spoke up. “And the killer turned on the kettle again before he left? What for?”
    “To screw up our timeline,” Stone said. “He wanted us to think that he killed her, then left immediately. I think he followed us from Brougham’s place, or at least, picked us up on the street en route.”
    “Did you see anybody?” Dino asked.
    “No, but it seems to me that he followed us, waited for me to leave, then went upstairs.”
    “How’d he get in?” Kelly asked.
    “Rang the bell; maybe she thought it was me, even though she had given me the key.”

    “And she let him in?”
    “Maybe he forced his way in, or maybe she knew him,” Stone said.
    “How’d he know when you were coming back?” Kelly asked.
    “He didn’t; he thought I’d left to go home. He got lucky. I’ll bet he was getting on the elevator when I rang for it. Must have scared him.”
    “Maybe,” Dino said. “Andy, send your patrolmen to talk to everybody in the building. Find out who came and went, and what time.”
    “Right, Lieutenant,” Anderson said.
    Dino looked at his watch. “I think it’s time to wake up Martin Brougham,” he said.
    “The DA guy?” Kelly asked. “What for?”
    “I want to take a look at her office,” Dino said. “Come on, Stone; I’ll drive you home; we can’t have you out on the streets with blood all over you. You’d just get arrested.” He turned to Kelly. “Apologize to Mr. Barrington for your behavior.”
    Kelly turned beet red. “I apologize,” he said. “I thought you were the perp.”
    “Something you should know, Mick,” Anderson said. “Mr. Barrington used to be a detective in the Nineteenth; he was Lieutenant Bacchetti’s partner.”
    Kelly’s face fell. “I really am sorry,”