Free Right from the Gecko by Cynthia Baxter

think any of us could stomach it.”
    I tried not to look too surprised. “I would have thought the police would take her possessions as possible evidence. They have been here, haven’t they?”
    â€œSure. That homicide detective you mentioned you’d spoken to, Paleka, came by first thing this morning. He’s the same guy who called me last night, asking me to come in and identify the…identify Marnie.” He swallowed hard, then took a deep breath before continuing. “He asked the usual questions and looked through her desk, but Detective Paleka wasn’t all that interested in what he found there. Especially since he seems pretty sold on the idea that Marnie was killed by the guy she was seen with coming out of that bar near the airport. The one they’re still working on identifying.”
    â€œI’d be happy to clean out Marnie’s desk,” I told Mr. Carrera, pleased that I’d be getting the opportunity to look through the personal items Marnie had left behind. While my main concern was that there might be someone out there who thought I had Marnie’s tape, I was also trying to find everything I could about someone who died just hours after I met her. My hope was that this little cleanup job would tell me a little more about her life. Maybe even her death.
    â€œThanks.” He sounded relieved. “You’ll find some cartons in the kitchen, way in back. If you need any help, just ask Karen.”
    â€œI will. By the way,” I couldn’t resist asking, “did you ever meet Marnie’s boyfriend, Mr. Carrera?”
    He looked surprised. “I didn’t even know she had one. I figured all that girl ever did was work. I’d come in here at seven in the morning and she’d be working. I’d come in at eleven at night to pick up something I forgot and she’d be working. How any guy would ever put up with that is beyond me.”
    I wasn’t about to admit that I was a little curious about Marnie’s social life myself. But that would have to wait until later.
    At the moment, I was much more concerned with the fact that my interview with Marnie’s boss was coming to a close. He glanced at his watch, the sides of his mouth twitching downward.
    I decided to go for broke.
    Desperately hoping he couldn’t hear how loudly my heart was pounding, I said, “Mr. Carrera, one of the things I wanted to ask you about was a tape Marnie recently made. I can’t help wondering if it had anything to do with her murder.”
    â€œA tape?” The hardness I’d perceived on Mr. Carrera’s face when I first walked into his office returned, fast and furious. His eyes blazing with suspicion, he insisted, “I don’t know anything about a tape.” I noticed he was suddenly enunciating quite clearly. “Why don’t you tell me what
you
know?”
    I began to feel extremely uncomfortable. And the fact that I’d come here to find out what he knew, not to tell him what I knew, was only partly responsible. From the way he reacted, I got the distinct feeling he knew exactly what tape I was talking about. “Nothing, really. It was just something she mentioned.”
    â€œTell me what she said,” he insisted.
    Instead, I plastered on an innocent-looking smile. “My mistake,” I said with a shrug. “When Marnie and I last spoke, she said something about a tape, that’s all. I thought it might have meant something, but I was obviously wrong. For all I know, she was referring to the latest Green Day CD.” I laughed, trying to make light of a subject I wished I hadn’t brought up in the first place.
    I told myself I was probably misinterpreting his reaction. After all, I hardly knew the man, and he certainly didn’t seem to be someone who openly displayed his emotions. It was possible that he had some policy about his reporters not taping interviews, or…or maybe as the