Free Trick of the Mind by Cassandra Chan Page B

went to prison for that one—his first time, although from his record, he’d been in a fence for years, only nothing could be pinned on him before the McDonald robbery. He got out early for good behavior.”
    A smile had touched the corners of Carmichael’s lips. “I remember that robbery,” he said. “It made a big splash in the papers. They don’t make thieves like that anymore—it’s all knock’em over the head these days, more’s the pity.”
    “On the other hand, sir,” said O’Leary, “the violent ones don’t get out of prison for good behavior so easily.”
    “There is that, lad,” agreed Carmichael. “Well, back to business. What did Gibbons say about his own case?”
    O’Leary thought for a moment. “Nothing startling,” he said. “Mostly he was telling me what he’d learned about jewelry, and how different Arts Theft was from Homicide.”
    “He didn’t mention any theories he was working on?”
    “No, I’d have remembered that. He was saying that Arts Theft was more interesting than he’d thought it would be, and I asked if he’d ever consider a permanent transfer there.”
    “And would he?” asked Carmichael, very much hoping not.
    “He said not, sir,” replied O’Leary. “He said he didn’t think the job played to his strengths and besides, there was something visceral about a homicide investigation that he missed in Arts Theft.”
    Carmichael let out a little sigh of relief. “I’m glad to hear that at least,” he said. “It’s the first good news I’ve had in two days. Very well. So the two of you talked shop over a couple of pints, is that what I’m to take away from this?”
    “Yes, sir,” said O’Leary. “Like I said, I had a date, and after I’d finished my pint, I had to be off. Jack hadn’t quite finished his bitter, but he told me to go on. So I did.”
    “So at half-six,” mused Carmichael, “Gibbons was sitting in the
Feathers, finishing a pint. He’d want his dinner, no doubt, and so far as we know, he was done with his work for the day. He didn’t say anything about needing to finish anything up, did he?”
    O’Leary shook his head.
    “It almost sounds as if, whatever he was up to, it didn’t have to do with his case,” continued Carmichael. “Still, I’ll send Lemmy down to security and have them make sure Gibbons didn’t reenter the building after you’d left him.”
    “He might have had an idea after I went and wanted to check it out,” suggested O’Leary.
    “Exactly,” said Carmichael. “Well, I want you to think over your conversation with him, O’Leary, and let me know if anything else occurs.”
    “Of course, sir. I’m sorry I didn’t think of it before now, but with all that’s happened, it seems as though that drink we had was a decade ago.”
    “Natural enough, lad,” said Carmichael, shifting his weight off the desk. “Let me go and read Davies’s report now, and you can go back to our old cases.” He paused, looking thoughtful, and then shook his head. “No,” he said. “I want you to do something else for me, O’Leary. I want you to write as complete a report as you can on your conversation with Gibbons that night.”
    O’Leary, considerably startled, said, “Yes, sir,” rather doubtfully, and Carmichael waved a hand.
    “I know,” he said. “It may be a waste of time. But it’s the only thing we know for certain about how Gibbons spent his evening. He may have made a remark which will jog his memory, if it doesn’t come back on its own. Do your best for me, O’Leary.”
    “I will, sir.”
    “And let me know if you hear from Hollings.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    O’Leary returned to his chair with a sigh, closed his case file window, opened a blank Word document, and sipped at his nowcold coffee.

4
    The Haverford Case
    B ethancourt woke last of all. The exigencies of the night before had exhausted him, and he slept like a log in consequence, not waking until a full eight hours had passed and the