by Roger Hayden
“Gosh, I haven’t heard from you in…”
“Six months,” she answered.
“Yeah, that sounds about right. How’s Arizona?”
“It’s been great so far,” she said. “A real nice change.”
“That’s good to hear,” he said, sounding busy.
“I don’t want to take up too much of your time—” she began.
“No, no,” Lou said. “I always have time for my favorite detective.”
Miriam smiled and then got right to the point. “I’m on a case right now. Missing girl.”
There was a pause on the other end. She’d obviously taken him by surprise. “You’re kidding…”
“I wish I was, Lou. Some really freaky stuff. Turns out she’s the daughter of a congressman.”
Another pause and then Lou spoke. “They looking for a payday?”
“I honestly don’t know,” she said, looking ahead as Keely maneuvered around stopped traffic with deft precision.
“What’s the ransom?” Lou asked.
“I don’t know,” Miriam said.
Her phone suddenly vibrated. Miriam held it down and saw a text from Ana, asking if she could go to Tina’s house after school. Tina was her new friend from school. She wanted Ana to make all the friends she could and step outside her box. It was important for her emotional rehabilitation, and the trauma she lived through. Counseling and therapy couldn’t do all the work. Some of it was up to Ana herself.
Miriam typed back with Lou on speaker, telling Ana that it was okay and to be home by eight. She returned to Lou, who of course had questions. “So what are you looking at then? A gang? Terrorists? Or just some loner trying to make a quick buck?”
“Consider for a moment that money isn’t even an issue here,” Miriam said. “What if that wasn’t even the reason she was targeted?”
Keely glanced at her as the conversation continued, curious about who the Lou character on the phone was.
“Okay. Money’s not an issue,” Lou said. “What then? A kiddie-stalker?”
“I don’t know,” Miriam said. “What I wanted to ask you—what I need to ask—is this… Do you believe that Phillip Anderson could still be alive?”
Another pause, longer than the others. “You still there?” she asked.
“Yeah. I’m thinking,” Lou said. He took a deep breath and continued. “If you could have seen that boat. There was just nothing left of it. Three nearby boaters died who just happened to be too close. I don’t honestly see how it’s possible.”
Miriam took the phone off speaker and held it to her ear as Lou continued. “They never recovered the body. Four bodies total, but not one whose DNA matched Anderson’s.”
Lou sounded as though he was defending his own detective work. “They found some articles of clothing. Some DNA. Even some teeth that all matched Anderson’s. He’s dead.”
Miriam remained unconvinced. “I’d like to believe you, Lou. But I’m going to have to trust my instinct on this one.”
“What are you suggesting? That Anderson is involved in this latest kidnapping?”
“I don’t know,” she answered, sounding exhausted.
“So what do you need from me?” Lou asked.
Miriam thought to herself. She needed reassurance—proof that he had died in the boat explosion. “Can you just look into it again? If you have the time, that is.”
He sighed softly. “I’ll see what I can do about re-opening the case. How’s Ana?”
“Good,” Miriam said. “She’s… good. Has a long way to go, but she’s getting there.”
“All the best to both of you.”
“Thanks, Lou. I’ll keep you posted on what we find out here.”
“You better. Take care, Miriam.”
Miriam hung up and just held onto the phone, thinking. Keely had just pulled into a shaded side street, parking near a fire hydrant, where Guillermo’s hangout was in view. It had all the necessary conveniences, a pawn shop and a liquor store, both with bars on the windows. They received some noticeably suspicious looks from group of tattooed men, loitering around.
“Here we are,” Keely said, coming to a stop.
Guillermo had nodded off, and his head jerked up. He looked around, uneasily while rubbing his eyes. “You were supposed to drop me off down there,” he said, pointing in the opposite direction. “What is this?”
“Calm down, G,” Miriam said. “We’re going to have a little walk around the area and ask some questions.”
Guillermo stuck his hand out. “You give me another twenty, and I’ll make it worth your while.”
Keely turned around and smirked. “Time to hit the road, G. We’ll be talking to you again.”
Guillermo turned to Miriam, hoping to fare better with her.
She shook her head. “I already gave you a twenty. I think we’re good here.”
Guillermo looked around nervously. All eyes outside were on the car, peering through the windows. “How about you take me out of the car and rough me up some? Need to build my cred.”
“No deal,” Keely said. “We’ll see you around.”
“Thanks for your help,” Miriam said, ending their meeting.
He looked around, frustrated, then reluctantly opened the door and stepped out onto the curb, putting on a show for whomever was watching. “Don’t come hassle me again. You hear me? I got rights!”
Multiple police sirens could be heard in the distance combined with the rumbling of helicopters. The hunt was on. G slammed the door and walked off angrily, disappearing into the nearest alleyway.
“Are you ready to do this?” Keely asked.
“Sure am,” Miriam said, putting on a blue ball cap. The police cross chatter on the radio continued until Keely turned it off. They stepped out of the car and headed down the sidewalk, toward the liquor store where the group of loitering young men saw them and quickly dispersed.
“We’re looking for someone, and we could really use your help,” she said, trying to ease their worry, but they had scattered like the wind.
“Well… you tried,” Keely said. They stopped at a corner near the liquor store as locals walked past them, not making eye contact, or crossed to the other side. Miriam looked at all the small shops across the street as traffic inched by in both lanes. Ahead of them was a thrift store, a cigar store, and a book store.
“What are you thinking?” Keely asked, inching toward her.
“I say we keep asking around. See what we come up with.”
Miriam scanned some more of the stores past the crosswalk and farther down on their side of the street. A glowing, yellow sign reading “SeXstasy” possibly represented the shadiest of storefront sex shops in the area. She approached the store, ready to go in as Keely followed.
“So this guy was looking for action but got turned away,” she said. “Where does a pent-up, sexually frustrated man go next?”
Keely looked up, narrowing his eyes at the sign. “Looks like they go to SeXstasy.”
“Exactly,” Miriam said. “Though, I’m sure there’s no shortage of characters who frequent this place.”
Its window was filled with magazines and DVDs displayed with the more risqué or explicit images blocked. The impression was clear though. In the age of Internet pornography, the store was a relic. A chalkboard sign outside advertised their latest specials: Buy One Get One Free and Summer Madness Sale.
A bell rang as Keely pulled the door open. He held it open and gestured inside with his free hand, smiling. “After you, madam.”
Miriam stepped in, laughing to herself. “Such a gentleman.”
The store was cramped from the get-go. Once past the entry, she was met with row upon row of shelves filled with erotic books, lingerie, movies, fetish items, and plenty of other X-rated paraphernalia. Just standing in the store made her feel grubby and out of place.
Classic rock music played through the speakers of an outdated boom box on the shop counter where a man sat on a stool reading The Wall
Street Journal. The glass display below him was stocked with every last-minute impulse item possible: lubricants, condoms, rolling papers, pipes, bongs, and a variety of magazines. With his pudgy bulldog face, his stained muscle shirt, and his round gut pressed against the counter, he looked quite the charmer.
He wore a big gold watch and had a gold necklace hanging over his chest. A cigar sat burning in an ashtray next to him. He briefly looked up from his magazine, noticing the potential customers, then looked back down. It was his store, and he didn’t move for anyone. Apparently a greeting wasn’t in the cards either.
Keely stood beside Miriam and spoke softly as he peeked behind the shelves. “Think we found our fat gringo.”
She covered her mouth and tried to hold back her laughter. They decided to go straight to the counter. The man—in his fifties and balding—looked up again. His voice was gruff and his speech laden with an Italian accent. “What can I help you with today? We gotta lotta stuff that can spruce up things in the bedroom.” He smiled and gave them a wink.
Miriam politely set the record straight. “I’m afraid that’s not what we’re here for.”
His smile faded. “Oh. I see….”
“We’re here on official business,” Keely added.
Avoiding further confusion, they pulled their badges out and introduced themselves.
The man’s playful demeanor dropped. He sat up straight and set his newspaper on the counter. “And what can I help you with, detectives?”
“Are you the owner of… this establishment?” Keely asked, looking around.
“Yes I am,” the man said.
Keely flipped open a notepad with pencil in hand. “And what’s your name?”
The man looked around nervously while growing more agitated by the minute. “Hey… what is this? You guys got a warrant or something?”
Miriam set her hands down on the glass counter in front of him. “Why would we need a warrant, sir? We just want to talk to you.”
The man stood up. His stool scraped against the floor as he pushed it back. “I don’t say nothin’ to no cops. I got a lawyer. Best in town.” He then put both hands on the counter and leaned closer to Miriam in a game of chicken. A thin line of smoke trailed from his cigar, still burning in the ashtray. The salsa music cheerfully continued in the background.
“There’s no reason to get defensive, Mr…”
“D’Alessandro,” he said, still guarded.
“Mr. D’Alessandro, we’re only here to ask for your help.”
The man laughed with a snort and went for his cigar, blowing out a big puff in their direction. “Why would I want to do a thing like that?”
Miriam waved the smoke out of her eyes and coughed as Keely stepped forward, angered. “Because there’s a little girl missing, that’s why.” Keely stepped to the counter beside Miriam and stared at D’Alessandro, daring him to give them more lip. “Think you can break away from the smut peddling and help us out?” he asked.
D’Alessandro jerked his head back, as if offended. “Well, la-di-da, Mr. Morality. Thanks for the lecture.”
Miriam slapped her hand down on the counter, weary of their bickering. “Her name’s Sarah Bynes. She was abducted from school in a blue van earlier today.”
The man took another puff and blew it up at the ceiling, avoiding further insult. His eyes narrowed as he chomped on the end of the cigar. “Whatta ya want me to do about it?”
“Help us identify him,” Miriam said. “We think it could be one of your customers.”
Another silence fell between them as D’Alessandro thought about it. He set his cigar down slowly and snuffed it out in the ashtray. His face began to lose color as he shuffled around behind the counter, rearranging things, clearing it off.
“Blue van, you say?” he asked in a more serious and cooperative tone.
“Yes,” Keely said. “GMC. Older model. Little banged up. Rusted.”
D’Alessandro leaned down behind the counter, disappearing from view for a moment, and rose up with a large blue binder in hand. He plopped it down on the counter and looked up at the detectives. “I keep a registry here. Sales, receipts… customers. Stuff like that.”
Miriam nodded. “We have a description of the suspect, if that’d help.”
“The blue van seems to have struck a nerve with you,” Keely said. “What can you tell us about that?”
The man backed up in a defensive posture. “Just why in the hell do you think that I would know about some kiddie-diddling pervert?”
“Because he was last seen soliciting in this area for underage girls. A few blocks from here,” Keely answered.
Miriam cut in. “And our theory is that perhaps this same man entered your… establishment and may have inquired about the same sort of thing.”
D’Alessandro shifted uncomfortably. “What? Like kiddie porn? You think I’d have anything to do with that garbage? Jesus. I want you both out of my store right now.” His thick, hairy arm rose up and pointed to the door.
Miriam raised her hand to calm him. “Not at all, sir. All we’re trying to find out is if you might have seen him, if he might have made an inquiry.”
“Look, we know he’s been cruising the area. He could very well have come in this store to buy who knows what,” Keely said.
D’Alessandro lowered his arm, slightly calmer, but still suspicious of their intentions. “You have a name?”
“We have a description,” Miriam answered.
He leaned forward, conceding to a point. “Okay. Shoot.”
Miriam and Keely exchanged glances, deciding how to convey their so-called description. She took the reins and turned to D’Alessandro. “He’s a large man. Obese, perhaps. Bald. Glasses.”
“I don’t remember anything about glasses,” Keely added.
Miriam stopped. “Oh, sorry. I guess my imagination—”
D’Alessandro raised an arm with one finger pressing against his temple. “No, wait! I think I remember.”
They waited patiently as he thought to himself. Miriam wanted to get to the burn marks. That, she felt, was the most important detail. Part of her needed to know more than anything that the man they were pursuing wasn’t who she feared it was.
“Eddie…” D’Alessandro said under his breath.
With notepad in hand, Keely interjected. “Eddie? Eddie who?”
D’Alessandro went to his notebook and opened it. The heavy cover smacked against the counter as he rifled through the pages, scanning a list with his finger. “Got a guy…” he began, with his head down, searching. “Last time he came in here was like six months ago… He used to come in all the time. Bought movies and shit. Quiet guy, and big, like you say.” He raised his head and traced his index finger across his chin. “Think he drove a blue van. If I’m not mistaken.”
“What about burn marks?” Miriam said. “All over his body.”
D’Alessandro shook his head. “Nah. This guy was pasty white. No marks.”
Miriam looked at Keely, disappointed. Keely, then offered his own theory.
“It’s been six months. A lot could have happened in that time.”
D’Alessandro flipped through the thick binder, page by tobacco-stained page. “Eddie…” he said to himself. “What was his last name?”
“Did this gentlemen ask for anything out of the ordinary?” Keely asked, leaning against the counter.
D’Alessandro raised one eyebrow as he looked up. “There you go again. I told you, I run a legitimate business.”
“We’re not suggesting otherwise,” Miriam cut in. “But you can at least remember if any such requests were made, can’t you.”
He straightened up, his hands holding the binder on both ends. Miriam waited for an answer, and looked around the shop, making mental notes. She noticed a small television she hadn’t seen before, behind the counter toward the back, sitting high upon a shelf, just below the ceiling. The signal was a little grainy, but she could see the local news on the screen, the sound mu
ted.
“Please, she said to the man. “Anything you remember could save this girl’s life.”
D’Alessandro dropped both arms, frustrated. “I’m trying. You know a lot of people come in here. Some decent folks, some scumbags, I can’t attest to ‘em all.”
“Just give us a name, if you can,” Keely said. He placed his hands on his hips, impatient now.
Their frazzled would-be informant stammered and shifted around in place. He closed his eyes, repeating names to himself. “Sal… Salva… Silo…” He opened his eyes, looked at the detectives, and slammed one hand down on the table, looking pleased with himself. “Silva! That’s it… I think.” He flipped through the binder and stopped on a page, scrolling with his finger until he found something. His eyes widened and he grabbed the already mashed cigar and put the end back into his mouth. “I fuckin’ knew it,” he said, staring down at a name.
“What is it?” Keely asked as he leaned forward trying to read the ledger.
“Eddie Silva. I’m pretty sure that was his name,” said D’Alessandro, his focus still on the page. He looked up, noticing the relief on both detectives’ faces. “Yeah, he came in here a lot.” He raised a finger in defense. “He never asked for anything illegal! It was just the comments he made.”
Keely scribbled wildly in his notepad. “Like what?”
D’Alessandro held his hands out, shaking his head, short of words. “I… You know, just inappropriate stuff.”
Keely cocked an eyebrow.
“Yeah, inappropriate even for here!” D’Alessandro protested. “He said something about girls today. How he liked them young. A big fan of the first-time, eighteen-year-old stuff.”
“Interesting…” Keely said while writing. “Big Internet fan, was he?”
D’Alessandro scoffed. “I don’t fucking know. I’m just telling you what I remember.” He pressed his big finger onto one solitary spot on the page. “There he is. All renters have to provide an address. You trying to find this creep, take this down.”
Excited, Miriam pulled out her notepad as well and began scrolling.
“Twenty-five, twelve, South Cooper Road. At least that’s what I got written here.”
Miriam jammed the notepad back into her pocket, ready to go.