The Night Remembers

37

The receptionist at Paul Heckart’s office was sipping coffee and glancing at a Cosmo she had skillfully tucked beneath a wide swath of papers. Presumably she hadn’t heard about Richard Heckart’s death or she wouldn’t be her usual indifferent self.

“Good morning,” she said, then frowned slightly. “Do you have an appointment?”

“No. But I’d like you to buzz Paul if you would and tell him that I need to see him on a very urgent matter.”

“I’m afraid that without an appointment—”

“He’ll want to see me. Believe me.”

I kept my voice level but I sounded more serious than most people she met at this desk.

She covered up Cosmo completely and then picked up the receiver from the small bank of phone buttons. She touched an expert red-tipped finger to a certain button and waited, tapping that same red-tipped finger against the desk. Finally, she said, “Humphf.”

“What?”

“He doesn’t seem to be in his office. Would you like me to page him?”

“Please.”

“All right.” She paged. The sound was like that of a hospital, discreet but imposing nonetheless. “Paul Heckart. Please call the receptionist. Paul Heckart. Please call the receptionist.” To me, “It should just be a minute. Would you like to sit down?”

“No thanks.”

Seeming vaguely insulted, she said, “Would you mind if I got back to my work, then?”

“Not at all.”

I wondered if that would be Cosmo or the stack of papers.

After a minute, I said, “Would you mind paging him again?”

She glanced up. “Sometimes he gets busy and it’s hard for him to get to the phone right away. If you’d just be a little patient—”

Just then a pleasant-looking woman in her forties appeared. She wore a gray suit that gave her the formidable look of a country-club matron who had once been a babe.

“Oh, Helen,” the receptionist said. “Have you seen Paul in the past twenty minutes or so?”

Helen looked at me and then back at the receptionist. “Yes, I did. About fifteen minutes ago.”

“Where was he?”

“In the small conference room in the back, but I think he went down the back stairs. He had a topcoat and valise with him.”

“The back stairs lead to the parking garage?” I said.

She did not seem happy with me. There was an order to the universe and I was upsetting it. “Yes, why?”

“Thank you.”

I got out of there before they could say anything.

The parking garage was a big gray concrete tomb, cold and shadowy on a day like this one. Car engines sounded like fighter planes echoing off the walls; the air was tart with the smell of exhaust fumes.

The parking place that said Paul Heckart in black-on-white letters was empty.

At an outdoor phone, I called the Pennyfeathers. Lisa answered.

“Is George there?”

“Not right now. He’s gone somewhere for a few hours.”

“I’d like to know where.”

She started to sound worried. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m not sure yet. But I really need to get ahold of George.”

“Would you mind telling me why?”

“It would be better right now if I didn’t have to explain, Lisa. When I’ve got more time and more answers, I will. I promise. Now, would you tell me where George went?”

“The cabin.”

“Where we were the other day?”

“Yes.”

“Why did he go out there?”

“Well, he hadn’t planned on it or anything but Paul came over and asked if he’d just ride along. Paul said he needed to check the cabin for a leaky roof. He still uses it from time to time, even though he officially gave it to us a long time ago.”

“Thank you.”

“You really sound in a hurry.”

“I am. A little bit, anyway.”

“Well, I hope everything’s all right.”

“I’m sure it will be.”

I left town just as crews began putting up Christmas decorations on Third Avenue. The brightness of the ornaments gave the gray day a lift. Cedar Rapids is very pretty at Christmastime especially, the timbered hills surrounding it snow-topped and serene. The downtown decorations just make it all the more gorgeous.

Unfortunately, right now I didn’t have time to think about anything pleasant at all. I wondered if Paul Heckart planned to kill George Pennyfeather the way he had the others.