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hopped in and slid the seat all the way
back, putting Darrow’s knees under his chin.
    “Do you know you
have eight rolls of wide, clear tape rolling around the floor of the car back
there?” he asked Hester as he settled into the front seat.
    “Oh. That’s
where it keeps disappearing to,” she said with a thoughtful look. “You’re in a
librarian’s car, sir, and that is the librarian’s friend – book tape. It’s used
for mending paperback covers and that sort of thing. Sort of our version of
duct tape. That stuff would mend the Eiffel Tower if it ever broke. I’m rarely
without it.”
    His feet still
tingled with the feeling returning to them as Hester guided the car toward the
police headquarters.
    They rode silently
for several blocks, but as Hester began to turn toward the Burnside Bridge,
beneath the giant White Stag Sportswear sign with its iconic leaping deer
outlined in white neon, they both started to speak at the same moment.
     “Say, Nate – ”
    “Hester – ”
    Both grinned
with a little embarrassment. “You first,” Darrow interjected.
    Hester smiled
and nodded thanks.
    “I didn’t know
if I should say anything in front of Pim, but that Charbonneau friend of hers –
His ancestor’s pistol she was talking about…” Hester hesitated.
    “Yes?” Darrow
goaded her, fidgeting with some book tape that had rolled forward from beneath
his seat.
    “The pistol
missing from the McLoughlin Collection was a copy of that pistol,” Hester
blurted.
    Darrow’s
response was cut off by a shrill beeping from his sport coat. “Oh, that damn
thing again,” Nate cursed as he slapped at various pockets to find the cellphone.
Finally he fished it from an inside breast pocket.
     “Yeah, Harry, I’m
almost back to the office, what’s up?” Darrow responded after the initial
greeting.
    Hester heard a
muted squawking from the earpiece and watched Darrow’s brow knit. “No shit,
Sherlock?” he asked his colleague after a few moments. “Harry, hang in there, I’ll
be there in five.”
    Pocketing the
phone, Darrow took a deep breath and clicked his teeth together a few times
before explaining to Hester.
    “Well, a
fisherman on the creek at the edge of Forest Park spotted something that had
caught in the old grating where the stream disappears under the Thurman
overpass – it must have washed up after our little thunderstorm last night,” he
said. “And it appears we not only may have found the gun that killed van Dyke,
but from the French manufacturer’s name on it and the little ‘Portland City
Library’ metal sticker on the bottom of the grip, I’m betting it’s your missing
pistol.”
    Hester’s mouth
hung open. “Oh, my lord.”
    A thought dawned
on Darrow and he pulled out his cellphone again.
     “Maybe I can make
good use of this gadget for once,” he announced, peering at a list of phone
numbers that had been preprogrammed into the phone when he got it. Finally
finding what he sought, he hesitantly punched three buttons in succession, and
when an answer came, he spoke briskly.
    “Yeah, Konnie,
it’s Nate Darrow. I wonder if you could get me everything you can find on a guy
named Charbonneau. First name of Pomp – P-O-M-P, as far as I know, probably a
nickname but that’s all I have. And I’m definitely looking for an address and
phone if you can find it.”
    As he pocketed
the phone again, Hester’s probing look loosened his tongue.
    “Look, I’m still
not saying we have anything on Pim’s friend, but there are a few too many
coincidences here and his name keeps popping up,” Darrow explained.
    “Goodness, I don’t
think you’re ever going to be Pim’s favorite,” Hester said ruefully.
    Darrow gave an
audible sigh. “Thanks for the ride, I’ll tell him she says hi,” he finished, as
he jumped out of the car in front of the Portland Police Bureau.

 
    Chapter 12
     
     
    Back at Grand Central
Library that afternoon, the hands on Hester’s old Timex said 3:45.