by AR Simmons
“Adams?” said Molly incredulously. “He’s actually doing something.”
“He’s actually working pretty hard on the case, Molly,” said Richard. “I think maybe we misjudged his commitment.”
A shift in Jill’s body language signaled approval, but Molly slumped. Both understood that what he was saying signaled his deference to the detective.
“I’m glad he’s finally taking an interest,” said Molly dubiously.
“I’m sure he will find out what happened,” said Jill.
Molly frowned. Her eyes flicked to Richard’s, held them a moment. “At least you know now that I’m telling the truth. Right, Mr. Carter?”
“I’ve always believed you, Molly.”
“I knew you wouldn’t quit on me.”
•••
Jill leaned her back against the door after watching Molly go back across the lawn to her own house.
“Why didn’t you tell her that you were going to leave it up Mr. Adams now that he has a concrete lead?”
“I didn’t tell you all of it. Adams doesn’t believe Boots has the time right, and he’s not convinced that Coomer witnessed the abduction.”
“But he’s looking into it?”
“After his fashion.”
“I’m sure that if there’s anything to it, then he’ll find out what happened. You need to drop it so that we can get on with our lives.”
“Hey. I am working, and we are ‘on with our lives.’”
“When are you going to tell Molly that you’re going to have to stop spending your time on this?”
“Give me time. I can’t just drop it on her.”
“When?” she pressed.
“Soon. Soon.”
•••
Wrestling with it most of the night produced two conclusions and a resolution. The first conclusion was that Jill was the most important thing in his life. Without her, he would have no life. The second was that, rightly or wrongly, Molly had sunk deep hooks into him. Her plight was his burden, and he could no more betray her than he could Jill. He had to forestall Jill issuing an ultimatum or his situation would become impossible. One of the women had to change what they were demanding of him. Molly couldn’t, and he feared that Jill wouldn’t.
Nothing short of discovering what had happened to Mancie could really resolve things. He resolved to simply play for time and hope to find something that would put Adams onto a viable suspect. But what would it take? Adam’s reaction to his possible eyewitness was dispiriting in the extreme, because he was sure that Coomer had actually witnessed the abduction. There were two perps. A two-person crime ought to produce more leads than a single perp crime.
Then he thought of a way he might be able to verify the date satisfactorily—even for the dyspeptic Adams.
•••
October 18
Larry Penrod nodded. “I heard about it. A real shame, but why talk to me? You don’t think one of the boys had anything to do with it, do you?”
“Your renters? No, sir. But the one called Coomer may have seen something the night it happened.”
Penrod’s mind was playing catch-up with what Richard had told him earlier when he had introduced himself.
“You’ve been hired by the woman then?”
“I’m helping her,” said Richard vaguely, hoping to let the matter rest there.
“And you’ve already talked to the police?”
“Yes, sir. Mr. Adams, the investigator on the case. He and I discussed it yesterday.”
“I don’t know what I could—Wait a minute. Why isn’t he here?”
“He probably will be later. We’re looking for confirmation of Coomer’s statement.”
Linking himself with Adam’s investigation was disingenuous, but Richard needed all the leverage he could get.
“Confirmation? I don’t know anything about what he saw.”
“Right, but I understand they had a plumbing problem that night. Did you by any chance have to call a plumber?”
“The stopped-up toilet. That happens about once every two or three weeks. I don’t know if it’s their fault, or if something was wrong with the way the toilet was installed. I got a guy who takes care of all my maintenance problems.”
“So it happens all the time?” Richard said dispiritedly.
“Only with those guys. Still, they’re the best renters I’ve got. I charge them two hundred each, and then eat the cost of a once a week house cleaner. Great deal all around. They get what they want, and I get what I want.”
Richard did the calculation in his head. Penrod was probably clearing about three times the going rate for rent.
“And they’re always on time with the rent?”
“Now they are,” he laughed. “They used to be kind of slipshod, but I installed a lock on the breaker box. Now, if they’re too late on the rent, I just cut off the electricity until they pay. They got gas heat, so the pipes won’t freeze in the wintertime. Those boys can get by without food, air conditioning, anything, but you shut down their computers, and it kills them. I only had to do that once. Now if one of them can’t come up with his share of the rent, the others cover for him.”
Penrod was proud of his solution.
“Is your maintenance guy on salary or do you pay him by the job?”
“Pay for services rendered.”
“So … he submits a detailed bill. You wouldn’t happen to keep a record of payments, would you?”
Penrod snorted. “Ever been audited? You bet I keep a record.”
“If you take a look at your records, do you think you could tell me the dates your man did plumbing work over there?”
“Yeah. That house is the only one I’ve ever had plumbing work done on.”
•••
“It still doesn’t mean he saw someone taking the baby,” Adams persisted.
“No? Then it’s the biggest damned coincidence in history!”
“You’re not listening, Carter. You never listen. If he’s not making it up or confused, the guy saw something, but not necessarily what you want to think he did.”
“Why are you so dead set on thinking Molly did this?”
“Because it’s the most likely answer. What have you found that should make me change my mind?”
Richard tried to see Adams’s point. He couldn’t.
“Okay,” he said. “If Coomer did see a guy hand a baby to someone in the car that night—you’ve got to admit that’s a possibility, then you’ve got—”
“We’ve got your friend, Molly in the car taking the dead body,” said Adams impatiently.
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why be so careful with it if the baby wasn’t alive? Doesn’t it make more sense that Coomer saw the abduction?”
“No, because he doesn’t know what he saw. You’re a hell of a lot more sure of what he saw than he is. That’s because with you, it’s become a matter of faith. You’re all wrapped up with Molly Randolph, and you’ll believe anything she tells you.”
Adams was wrong. Richard wasn’t at all sure of what had happened. Adams was the one fixed on an idea. Somehow the detective had arrived at logic-proof conviction. Only concrete evidence could open his mind again. At least, Richard hoped it could.
“Carter, don’t bother me on Sunday again. No—don’t bother me at all again.”
“Not even if it means withholding evidence?”
“Fat chance.”
“Why are you so hell-bent on seeing Molly Randolph as the perpetrator rather than a victim?”
“Maybe because I saw what was in her system that night. And maybe because I’ve seen too much of what druggies do to the kids they’re supposed to be taking care of. It doesn’t surprise me that she’s got you fooled. She’s probably trying to convince herself that she didn’t do it. But she did, Carter! You can bank on it. And what really burns me is that if we prove it, all that will happen is she’ll cry to some shrink and get off with a slap on the wrist and a bunch of counseling a
t taxpayer expense.”
Richard could have said something about confusing political doctrine with real events and the lives of real people, but it would do no good. Besides, it wasn’t in his interest or Molly’s to alienate Adams further if he wanted the man share anything should something turn up.
Chapter 7
October 19
Molly said the neighbors on the other side of her house had been a young couple who were seldom at home, and had moved shortly after Mancie’s abduction. She thought they were hospital workers because she had seen each in scrubs occasionally. Richard obtained the house owner’s name from land records at the courthouse. He called the man, making a vague reference to the investigation to give the impression that he was a policeman, and elicited the information that the former renter was Joseph M. Shell. Feeling ambivalent about his increasing competence at duplicity, he conceived a stratagem for discovering Molly’s former neighbors’ new address. The phone book listed the old address.
He called Directory Assistance and got their number. After eight rings a hesitant female voice clicked on.
“Hi. This is the home of Joe, Mandy, and Marcy—” (short pause for a nervous giggle) “Leave a message and number, we’ll call you back. Have a nice day.”
He had intended to obtain the new address by pretending to be calling another Joseph Shell at a different address, a ruse that could work in a leave-the-keys-in-the-car-at-night small town. With only two hours before he had to pick up Jill, he decided on an alternate stratagem. He drove to the James Mill Medical Park, a collection of offices for various specialists, from pediatricians to podiatrists clustered around a clinic, a sort of strip mall medical center.
With more offices than he had time to visit, he opted for the clinic since more people worked there. He recited a carefully concocted story that he was passing through town, had a few minutes, and thought he would look up his cousin whom he thought worked at the clinic. The severe matron manning the business window listened to the whole thing before informing him that no one named Shell worked at the clinic.
Back at the car, he thought about trying some of the doctors’ offices in the park, but couldn’t come up with a third stratagem. The cousin bit wouldn’t play face-to-face with one of the Shells. He punched in their number again and got the same chirpy message. He decided to drive out to the college and try again tomorrow when the possible significance of the answering machine message occurred to him.
He punched a number into the phone.
“Molly, this is Richard.”
“Did you find out something, Mr. Carter?”
“No, Molly. I just wanted to ask you something about the people who used to live the other side of you, the ones who moved out.”
“Why?”
“I’m trying to find them so I can interview them,” he said, not wanting to share his idea with her just yet. “How long did they live there?”
“They were there when I moved in.”
“How often did you see them?”
“Just every now and then. Not every day. I told you that they both wore scrubs sometimes.”
“Yes, I remember. Probably healthcare workers. Can you give me a physical description of them?”
“They was both kind of small, especially her. I remember thinking that she surely didn’t handle patients like a nurse would have to sometimes because she was so tiny.”
“How many times would you say you saw them?”
“Maybe ever two or three days. I saw them leaving for work mostly.”
“How many cars, one, or two?”
“Just the one. I think they maybe worked at the same place. Why are you so interested in them? Did you find out something?” she asked eagerly.
“No. I just want to talk to them,” he said distractedly. “I want to know as much as I can about all your neighbors. I’m trying to get a picture of the neighborhood at the time.”
“That guy who saw someone take Mancie—he said the car was parked in front of their house, right?”
“Yeah. I need to talk to him again to see if he remembers seeing their car there too that night. Did you ever see any car other than theirs parked there?”
“I can’t remember one. You think they might know something?”
“I don’t know. Look, Molly, I didn’t mean to make you think I’ve found out anything important. I’m just trying to look into everything for you, and I wanted to touch base with you on this.”
“I’ll bet that damned Adams never talked to them,” said Molly bitterly.
“He probably did, Molly. They canvassed the area right after the disappearance, remember?”
“They just went through the motions, Mr. Carter. They all thought that I done something to my baby. They still think that. That’s why they’re not looking for her. Thank God you come when you did. I just wish you had come earlier.”
“Were you ever in their house, or did they ever come over to visit?”
“No. Why?”
“I’d just like to know what kind of people they are before I go visit them—you know, so I’ll know what to expect.”
“They seemed all right, but kind of standoffish like city people are. I think they come from somewheres else. They talked like … I guess with an accent.”
He had given her plenty of time, but Molly hadn’t mentioned the third member of the family, the “Marcy” on the answering machine. Neither had she referred to the petite woman as pregnant. As he pondered that, the phone rang.
“Who is this?” asked a male voice when he answered.
“Who did you call?” countered Richard.
Silence for a moment. “You called me—twice today without leaving a message. You should have left your name and told me why you called.”
“Oh,” said Richard. “I’m sorry about that. I’ve never liked voicemail. You’re Joseph Shell, right?”
“Yes?”
“Well,” Richard improvised. “I’m Robert Snell. I moved into the house you used to live in and—”
“How do you know where I used to live?”
“Because the address is the same as mine … on the letter that came that is … an official-looking envelope. It came to the house but with your name on it. I thought it might be important. I guess the post office made a mistake.”
“I don’t understand that. I filled out a change of address.”
“Well, if you give me your address, I’ll stick it in another envelop and put it back in the mail. I don’t think it would be a good idea to just write ‘wrong address’ on it. It would probably end up in the dead letter room or something.”
“Official looking? What’s the return address?”
“Someplace out east,” said Richard. “I’m on the road right now and don’t have it with me. It looked like maybe it contained some kind of legal papers.”
“From a lawyer’s office?”
Richard cursed himself for elaborating the lie. “Look, I’m not sure. I should have taken a better look at it. It just looked like it might be important, and I thought I’d try to help somebody out. If you want me to just pitch it, or scribble ‘wrong address’ on it, and drop it back in the box, then I’ll do that.”
After a short hesitation, John Shell gave his mailing address. Richard made note of it and then punched off the phone in disgust.
“A post office box,” he grumbled.
•••
On the way home from the campus, he thought of a way to at least find the Shell’s new home. When he and Jill got home, he left the car running.
“I’ve got some running around to do,” he told her.
“Where are you going?”
“To see this guy about … maybe getting another job. I’m getting a little sick of working in a grease pit. Look at my hands.”
He held up oil-stained fingers. There was a rind of black beneath each nail, and the lines of his knuckles were etched darkly.
“The smell’s getting to me. It’s ruining all my clothes. And winter’s c
oming on. The place will be cold with those bay doors opening all the time”
It wasn’t wholly fabricated. He wasn’t looking for a new job just yet, but the smell of motor oil had lost its teenage mystique. On the way out the door, it occurred to him that lying to Jill was worse than just a bad idea. He reversed his direction.
“Jill,” he said, poking his head into the kitchen, startling her.
She looked at him expectantly. He changed his mind again, excusing his lie by telling himself that she would be happier thinking his absence was job related.
“I should be back in about an hour or so,” he said.
“I’ll have dinner ready.”
•••
He attempted to look inconspicuous as he lingered near the Plexiglas boxes trying to peek at the contents. His hopes sank when he saw that Box 563 was empty. He picked out a handful of brochures and took them to a stand with a chained pen attached, and pretended to read the information while watching people coming in to check their mailboxes. Richard knew that he looked about as inconspicuous as whipped cream on a hot dog if anyone suspected surveillance, but he doubted that anyone coming in would notice him. It was the postal workers in the other section of the lobby that worried him. At four, one of them came to lock the door separating the lobby where the PO boxes were from the counter.
Shortly thereafter a car stopped at the curb, and a diminutive woman wearing blue scrubs came in and made straight for the area near box 563. She fit Molly’s description. Evidently, her box was empty, because she turned to leave after just a glance. He exited after her and walked past as she got into the passenger side of a car idling at the curb. He noticed a car seat, but couldn’t get a good look at the baby as he hurried past and crossed to his car. It was facing the wrong direction.
He got in and quickly circled the block breaking several traffic laws in the process. Luckily, he caught sight of the car pulling through the stoplight. He barely made it through behind them before it changed, and then tried to follow inconspicuously a few cars back. Traffic thinned as they left the center of town and was nearly nonexistent by the time they turned into a lower middle class residential neighborhood south of the housing development where Richard had roofed and laid sod. The woman turned repeatedly toward the driver, apparently absorbed in conversation.