Frenzy by John Lutz Read Free Book Online Page A

allow for that possibility.”
    â€œWe do have a security guy at MoMA says he saw Grace Geyer talking with some man, away from the rest of the group. In the fourth floor painting and sculpture section.”
    â€œBut he doesn’t remember what the man looked like,” Quinn said.
    â€œRight. We tried to find the guy on the security cameras, but had no luck there. And the guard says he couldn’t pick the guy out of a lineup.”
    â€œIf we get a suspect,” Quinn said, “he sure as hell is going to try.”
    â€œI’m going on Minnie Miner’s show tomorrow,” Renz said. “I won’t mention the security guard. Guy’s liable to leave town like a rocket.”
    â€œIf he’s smart,” Quinn said. He didn’t think the museum guard would be much of a help as a witness, but the killer wouldn’t know that for sure. “If we need him, we can reach out and get him. Whatever you tell or don’t tell Minnie Miner, be careful with it.”
    â€œShe’d really rather talk to you,” Renz said, sounding a little miffed.
    â€œThat would just impede the investigation,” Quinn said, feeding Renz what he wanted to hear. Not that it wasn’t the truth. “Maybe someday,” he said, “we can use Minnie.”
    â€œWeaver see you yet?” Renz asked.
    â€œYeah. She filled us in on what the uniforms first on the scene had.”
    â€œTell her what you know,” Renz said, “so I can know it.”
    â€œYou bet,” Quinn said, and broke the connection.
    The detectives were all staring at him, wondering if they had anything new to work with.
    â€œWas that Renz?” Fedderman asked, unnecessarily.
    â€œYeah. Grace Geyer was seen by a museum security guard talking with a guy in MoMA. They were standing away from the rest of the group.”
    â€œMaybe trying to pick her up,” Fedderman said.
    â€œOr just talking about brush strokes,” Sal said.
    â€œYou ask Renz about Christy Mathewson?” Harold asked.
    â€œWhile you and Sal are on the way to get verification statements from potential witnesses at the hotel,” Quinn said, “why don’t you call Nift and see about this Mathewson thing.” Keep us from possibly looking stupid, now that you’ve brought it up.
    â€œGood idea,” Harold said. “Touch all the bases.”
    Quinn gave him a look that might have meant he was perplexed or angry.
    Sal said, “Let’s get out of here, Harold.”
    They left, Sal thinking you really never knew for sure about Harold.

10
    England, 1940
    Â 
    T ucker could see the bombs slung beneath the planes’ fuselages as the pilots brought the Stukas in single file, bow to stern above the Sondra. He hoped the German pilots would consider the small fishing boat too minor a target to waste bombs on.
    He got his wish, but that didn’t rule out the machine guns mounted beneath the planes’ wings.
    The little boat rocked this way and that as the captain attempted to zigzag. That helped some, but not much. A man in a French army uniform stood up near the bow and aimed his rifle at the incoming lead Stuka. He was cut nearly in half by machine gun bullets. Two of the crewmen hacked lines and launched a small dinghy the boat might tow, but no sooner had the dinghy hit the water than the crewmen both spun and dropped overboard beneath the hail of bullets. The boat’s grizzled old captain stepped halfway out of the pilothouse to yell some instruction, then fell in a red mist of blood.
    Immediately after the first pass, the planes wheeled to the left, maintaining their single file line, as they maneuvered for another run at the boat. This time, as the first plane approached and the winking muzzle blasts of its guns became visible, men began diving and jumping overboard.
    BEF Corporal Henry Tucker, huddled near the stern, decided it was time to abandon ship.
    He scooped up his backpack,