He could hear Lewis tugging on bolts.
“No, not just that,” Ginter said. “On that Sunday she sent me a G-mail describing her weekend in Boston while I was in Worcester getting bored out of my mind. She told me how she had gotten into South Station at around six and she and Margarita had gone out to eat in the North End, had walked around Newbury Street shopping on Saturday afternoon, and then she had caught the 1:00 bus back to Springfield on Sunday.”
“I still don’t get it,” Paul said, slightly confused.
“I figure she must have taken the bus rather than drive for some other reason. I told her that her tire story was crap, and then she changed it and admitted that the dealership had put on new tires but that they were the wrong size and they hadn’t balanced them, which made even less sense. When I told her I didn’t believe that story she changed it again to say that she took the bus because it was too cold to drive to Boston .”
“Huh? Too cold?” Paul asked, now clearly intrigued. “To drive a car? So, what was she up to?”
“That’s what I couldn’t figure out at first,” Ginter said. “Then I remembered that her ex-boyfriend was this older guy who was into aroma therapy or some other alternative mental health hokum and that he had moved to New York a few years ago when he couldn’t make it around here. I checked the connections from South Station to New York and the return times on Sunday and guess what?”
“Did she admit it?” Paul asked.
“Never did. But I never mentioned New York to her either. She stuck with her too-cold story and then a couple of weeks later she told me that she and Margarita were going up to Prince Edward Island in Canada for a week so that Margarita could do some amateur photography up there. To put me at ease she said I could call her on her cell all week.”
“When was this?”
“End of April.”
“And?” Paul asked.
“I called her a couple of times on her cell and she’d answer during the day but never at night, and she called me a few times and would say that she and Margarita were in the car driving here or there to take photos. But the connection never sounded like it does when someone is on a cell in a car, you know what I mean?”
Paul nodded.
“It also wasn’t the conversation you have when someone is sitting right next to you either,” Ginter continued. “Once when I called she said that they were at the motel and that Margarita was in the bathroom.”
Paul was laughing now. “You’re a suspicious bastard,” he said. “Did you confront her?”
“ Nah, never had to. I called her on my cell and then called the cell company-we have the same one-and asked if they had towers on Prince Edward Island and they don’t. Then I asked for the location of the receiving tower for the cell call I had placed.”
“And?”
“ Manhattan ,” Ginter answered, giving an especially tough bolt a final tug.
“That’s great!” Paul said, laughing. “But how could she call you from the old guy’s apartment? Wouldn’t he have minded?”
“I figure he was at work hawking aroma bottles during the day and at night she just turned her cell off.”
Paul shook his head. “Where’d you learn to be so damn clever, the army?”
“Hey, I was in the army, I wasn’t a cop,” Ginter said. “I just figure it pays to be always thinking, if you know what I mean. Never trust anyone. There are too many pathological liars out there.”
Paul continued to chuckle. “So anyway, when do the Newark Yankees come to town next year?” he asked.
“Middle of May. You cool to go?”
“I’ll have to check. You’re talking next year for crying out loud.”
“’Cause I got a favor to pay off, y’know?”
“The ticket agent wants to see the Yankees?” Paul guessed.
“Ever since they moved to Newark they’ve been her team.”
“Pencil me in. Promise her for later in the season, she’ll forget all about you by then. That’s a whole year away.”
“So
“No, not just that,” Ginter said. “On that Sunday she sent me a G-mail describing her weekend in Boston while I was in Worcester getting bored out of my mind. She told me how she had gotten into South Station at around six and she and Margarita had gone out to eat in the North End, had walked around Newbury Street shopping on Saturday afternoon, and then she had caught the 1:00 bus back to Springfield on Sunday.”
“I still don’t get it,” Paul said, slightly confused.
“I figure she must have taken the bus rather than drive for some other reason. I told her that her tire story was crap, and then she changed it and admitted that the dealership had put on new tires but that they were the wrong size and they hadn’t balanced them, which made even less sense. When I told her I didn’t believe that story she changed it again to say that she took the bus because it was too cold to drive to Boston .”
“Huh? Too cold?” Paul asked, now clearly intrigued. “To drive a car? So, what was she up to?”
“That’s what I couldn’t figure out at first,” Ginter said. “Then I remembered that her ex-boyfriend was this older guy who was into aroma therapy or some other alternative mental health hokum and that he had moved to New York a few years ago when he couldn’t make it around here. I checked the connections from South Station to New York and the return times on Sunday and guess what?”
“Did she admit it?” Paul asked.
“Never did. But I never mentioned New York to her either. She stuck with her too-cold story and then a couple of weeks later she told me that she and Margarita were going up to Prince Edward Island in Canada for a week so that Margarita could do some amateur photography up there. To put me at ease she said I could call her on her cell all week.”
“When was this?”
“End of April.”
“And?” Paul asked.
“I called her a couple of times on her cell and she’d answer during the day but never at night, and she called me a few times and would say that she and Margarita were in the car driving here or there to take photos. But the connection never sounded like it does when someone is on a cell in a car, you know what I mean?”
Paul nodded.
“It also wasn’t the conversation you have when someone is sitting right next to you either,” Ginter continued. “Once when I called she said that they were at the motel and that Margarita was in the bathroom.”
Paul was laughing now. “You’re a suspicious bastard,” he said. “Did you confront her?”
“ Nah, never had to. I called her on my cell and then called the cell company-we have the same one-and asked if they had towers on Prince Edward Island and they don’t. Then I asked for the location of the receiving tower for the cell call I had placed.”
“And?”
“ Manhattan ,” Ginter answered, giving an especially tough bolt a final tug.
“That’s great!” Paul said, laughing. “But how could she call you from the old guy’s apartment? Wouldn’t he have minded?”
“I figure he was at work hawking aroma bottles during the day and at night she just turned her cell off.”
Paul shook his head. “Where’d you learn to be so damn clever, the army?”
“Hey, I was in the army, I wasn’t a cop,” Ginter said. “I just figure it pays to be always thinking, if you know what I mean. Never trust anyone. There are too many pathological liars out there.”
Paul continued to chuckle. “So anyway, when do the Newark Yankees come to town next year?” he asked.
“Middle of May. You cool to go?”
“I’ll have to check. You’re talking next year for crying out loud.”
“’Cause I got a favor to pay off, y’know?”
“The ticket agent wants to see the Yankees?” Paul guessed.
“Ever since they moved to Newark they’ve been her team.”
“Pencil me in. Promise her for later in the season, she’ll forget all about you by then. That’s a whole year away.”
“So
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