Dean chuckled as he reached beneath the mat to a back corner for something that caught his eye. It was a small metal container no larger than a matchbox. The top slid open to reveal a tire patch kit
containing two small patches and a tube of sealing adhesive.
"Then why would anyone need this?" Dean asked.
"Looks like Norfolk's finest missed something," Hunter mused as he examined the box. "Suppose it belonged to our friend?"
"Even odd, I'd guess. Not too many have used the car as new as it is. But it doesn't make sense either; nobody patches tires anymore. Add it to your inventory." Dean slipped the container into his pocket as he walked around the car.
"Clean as a whistle," Hunter said. "I wish mine had as few scratches."
The two detectives spoke with Leo the waiter, the night clerk and the maid. None could add anything to their earlier stories and none was particularly happy being called in for questioning when they should have been enjoying their time off. According to the time-stamped dinner receipt, Byrne had dined on fish, and had two beers as Hunter had remarked. Any celebratory drinks with departing Fletcher Brunell had occurred earlier and elsewhere.
"We checked a couple of bars local to the World Wide office but they were crazy-busy after-work places and no one remembers diddly." Then Hunter added, "No credit card receipt either but there's a raft of places between the office and the motel and they could have stopped anywhere."
"He was back in the motel at 7:00 or so," Dean said. "He called his wife."
"If you're sure you can believe her." Dean turned quickly and Hunter grinned. "Life ain't always what it seems to be, is it?"
Before leaving, Hunter showed Dean the beach across the road where it was presumed Jeffrey Byrne took his last steps on land. The area was nearly empty except for crying gulls, a man running with his dog, and an elderly lady propped up in a half chair reading. Hunter pointed out where Byrne's things were found but Dean learned nothing from the excursion. They left the seashore and, after a quick bite to eat, Hunter drove Dean back to the airport for his return plane trip to Parkside.
It was after 9:00 by the time Dean finally returned to Collingswood Avenue. He was dog tired and his stomach grumbled its dissatisfaction at being limited to the airline's toy dinner. He half-hoped Fred would either be out socializing or asleep but lost on both counts. The old man opened the door with a barrage of questions, allowing Dean no chance to escape the interrogation. Even Mrs. Lincoln seemed eager to see him, giving his leg a welcoming rub. Resigned to the inquisition, he settled down in his chair with two cans of beer and a piece of apple pie, devouring the pie with a combination of guilt and gusto. Between bites he answered Fred's questions, filling in the details of the trip south.