The Pandora Directive: A Tex Murphy Novel by Aaron Conners

Mary. He tossed a celery stalk into the concoction and placed it in front of Emily.
    “Thanks.” She took a sip. She didn’t look like she was in the mood to answer questions, but I didn’t have the luxury of delaying my investigation.
    “Listen, Emily. I need to ask you about a few things, if you don’t mind.”
    Leach leaned on to the bar. “C’mon, Murphy. She’s been through enough. The cops already grilled her last night. Give it a rest for a while.”
    “It’s OK, Gus. I owe him. Answering a few questions isn’t any big deal.”
    She turned to me and took a deep breath. “Go ahead.”
    “The man who attacked you took something from your apartment. A box of some kind. What was it?
    “I don’t know. I mean, I don’t know what was in it. It was a weird box… it didn’t open. At least I couldn’t figure out how to open it.”
    “Where did it come from? Do have any idea why someone would want to steal it?”
    Emily glanced up at Gus.
    “You don’t need to tell him anything. It’s none of his business.”
    Emily looked pensively into the tomato juice and stirred it with the celery stalk. After a long pause, she turned and looked straight into my eyes. “The box was sent to me by Thomas. Thomas Malloy. My husband.”
    I picked up my bourbon and took a long drink. This was just a fine how-do-you-do. Everything I’d seen and heard over the past few days had suddenly shifted around 90 degrees.
    “Pardon me for being stupid, but let me get this straight. You’re Thomas Malloy’s wife?”
    “We were married about a year ago. I used to work at another club here in the city. Gus was the manager. That’s where I met Thomas. He used to come in and watch me sing. He was so sweet and lonely.”
    “So where is your husband?”
    “I don’t know,” She said quietly.
    “But he sent a box you.”
    “That’s right. It came yesterday.”
    “And there was no indication where he’d sent it from?”
    Emily shook her head. “The box was wrapped in plain brown paper. There was no return address, no letter or anything inside. Just the box.”
    “How do you know it was from your husband?”
    “I recognised his writing on the outside.”
    I wanted to take a look at the paper the box had been wrapped in. Even without a return address, something about the wrapping might help me track down Malloy. “What did you do with the paper?”
    Emily shrugged. “I threw it out, I guess. I don’t know where it is.”
    I’d look for it later. For now, I needed to keep Emily talking.
    “Why did Malloy leave? Did he give you any reason for not telling you where he’d be?” the muscles around Emily’s mouth tensed, and Leach half rose from his chair. Immediately, I knew I’d crossed into sensitive territory. I quickly rephrased the question.
    “Do you think your husband left because he was in danger?”
    Emily didn’t respond, but the look on her face said enough.
    Everything fell into place. I turned to Leach. “You’re a friend of Malloy’s, right? He left Emily here and asked you to take care of her until he came back.”
    Leach glanced nervously Emily. When he looked back at me, he nodded. Suddenly, I was the only one talking. “Listen, all I want to do is find Malloy. I’m not one of the bad guys.”
    Both of them were still looking at me.
    “Okay. One more question, and I’ll get out of here. Do either of you know why Malloy’s on the run?”
    Emily cleared her throat and took a sip of her drink. “Thomas never talked about his work. He said it was better that way, safer for me. I honestly don’t know why he left,” She said wistfully.
     
    A dumpster sat in the alley by the side door to the Flamingo. With any luck, the wrapping paper would be inside. Dumpster searching hadn’t been a part of my PI training curriculum. The movies that inspired me to become a detective never showed that part of the job. Oh, well. I rolled up my sleeves and dug in.
    It was stinking, rotten work. Damp tissues, gum,