“You’d think if Lineberry found the body and she came down there, that they would have gotten together.”
“He said they didn’t. But there’s no way to corroborate that.”
Blum looked at the objects on the bed. “So that’s all you have left?” she said.
“Not much, is it?”
“Well, it makes each one that much more important,” said Blum judiciously.
“I’d prefer them to lead me somehow to the truth.”
“Your sister’s doll?” said Blum, rising from her chair and picking up Pine’s doll.
“What about it?”
“Britta Pringle mentioned that your mother was looking for it the morning after Mercy disappeared.”
“She also said that people do odd things in times of stress, and she’s right. Maybe my mom thought if she could find the doll, she could find Mercy, too.”
“Maybe.”
Blum put the doll down, while Pine picked up one of the bar drink coasters.
“We used these as checker pieces,” she said, in answer to Blum’s curious look.
“Very creative.”
Pine smiled at the memory, and then that fell away as she focused more closely on the drink coaster.
“What is it?”
“These came from my dad. A bar in New York. The Cloak and Dagger.”
“Cool name for a bar.”
Pine looked at the collection of bar coasters. “But why would my dad have had so many coasters from the same bar?”
“Could he have bartended there? Or been a regular?”
“I’m not sure if he was even old enough to drink back then.”
“Depending on the state you can bartend before you can actually drink. Doesn’t make a lot of sense. I’m not sure of New York’s laws back then.”
“Well, he was trying to break into acting, I was told. I guess actors have side jobs to support themselves.”
“That’s true.”
“The Cloak and Dagger Bar. I wonder why they picked that name.”
“You mean was it simply catchy or did it have some other meaning?”
Pine went on her phone and performed a search. “There’s a Cloak and Dagger Boutique in New York City and a Cloak and Dagger Bar in DC. But neither was around in the eighties. No Cloak and Dagger Bar in New York, at least currently.”
“And in the eighties no websites and probably no digital record today of its existence back then.”
“The coaster doesn’t have an address or phone number on it. Just the name and it being in New York.”
“Well, I’ve seen coasters like that. They don’t all have that information on them.”
“Maybe I’m grasping at straws.”
“Remember your axiom: Everything is important until it’s proven not to be.”
Pine started to put her phone away and then thought better of it. “There might be a way of checking on it.” She consulted her contacts list, selected a number, and punched it in.
“Hello, Stan, it’s Atlee Pine. Yeah, I know it’s been a long time. How are you? Right, that’s good. Yeah, the Bureau works in mysterious ways. No, I’m not in Utah anymore. I’m in Arizona. Near the Grand Canyon. Yeah, it is beautiful. Look, I have a favor. I want you to check up on a bar for me. It was back in the early eighties. The name was the Cloak and Dagger.” Pine paused as the man on the other end said something. “Just anything you can tell me about it. Yeah, as soon as you can. Okay, thanks.”
She clicked off and looked at Blum. “Stan Cashings works at the New York Field Office. Has for over two decades. If anything can be found out about that place, he’ll find it.”
“At the very least it might lead you to something about your father’s past that you didn’t know before.”
“It also might explain why a fashion model chucks her career, gets pregnant, marries my dad, and soon thereafter they give up New York City for Andersonville, Georgia, with two toddlers in tow.”
“Nothing about it really makes sense.”
Pine put her phone away. “No, it does makes sense. We just don’t know how yet. But now, I’ve got to get ready.”
“For what?”
“I’m having dinner with Lauren Graham at a place in Americus. I need to dress up a little, or so she not so subtly told me.”
“Well, you clean up well. I know that.”
“We’ll see.” She looked at herself in the swivel mirror on top of the chest of drawers, focusing on her bruise. “The swelling’s all gone, but it’s still a little discolored.”
“Nothing a little makeup can’t cover. I can help you with that if you want.”
“Thanks. I’m not the best with that stuff. It’s too much to remember.”
“But why are you going to dinner with her?”
“It’s on the pretense of my talking about how I investigate my cases. But the real reason is, I don’t think the lady’s been entirely forthcoming with us.”
“Well, that seems to be the general theme in this town,” replied Blum.
Chapter 43
YOU CLEANED UP WELL.”
Graham was looking up the stairs at the Cottage as Pine came down them. Graham had on a knee-length dark red skirt that hugged her hips, with a white blouse and a hunter green jacket over that. Her tights and stiletto heels were both black.
Pine had put on the one dress she had brought with her. It was black, of a simple design, and it rode snug on her frame. Around her shoulders was a turquoise wrap that Blum had let her borrow. Her heels were open-toed, lifting her height to a couple inches over six feet. She had done her hair; instead of its being pulled back like she normally wore it, she had let the dark strands fall around her shoulders. Blum had helped her cover up the bruise on her forehead with a liberal layer of foundation.
“Thanks. You look great,” said Pine.
“Do you know what came into my head when I saw you just now? Your mother. The spitting image.”
“That’s very kind. I don’t think I’m nearly in her league. Or that glamorous.”
“You might have missed your calling,” said Graham.
“I think I found it just fine. You ready? I can drive.”
* * *
On the ride to Americus, Graham said, “So, have you given any thought to what you can share with me?”
“Investigative methods, some details of cases without identifying what cases they were attached to. And I can answer general questions you might have.”
“That’s very generous. Okay, first thing, what do you think are the most important traits a detective can have?”
Pine collected her thoughts, though she didn’t really need to in order to answer this basic question. “Patience and tenacity. They go hand in hand. The cases can either solve themselves quickly because the criminals were so stupid, or else they can take years and a lot of legwork and going over and over old ground. I’ve been involved in both kinds.”
“Any nuances you can share?”
“Small details can matter more than the big ones. Criminals always fail on the little details. Blood spatters, trace fibers, fingerprints, ballistics matching. DNA. They think they can get rid of all blood traces by using bleach. But if you really want a decent shot at destroying DNA you should use an oxygen-based detergent that produces oxygen-rich bubbles. That blocks the oxygen in the DNA from uplifting to the luminol that we would use to reveal the blood stains. Or you can go the other route, by collecting DNA samples from other people who might have ties to the victim and flood the murder scene with them. That could overwhelm an investigation and give a defense lawyer wiggle room.”
“That’s fascinating.”
“It just comes with the territory.”
“And are you always armed?”
Pine touched her clutch purse. “Beretta Nano eight-shot. Just in case. It’s a girl’s best friend in my line of work.”
“I may use that line in my novel, if that’s okay.”
“Go for it.”
Twenty m
inutes and many more questions and answers later, they arrived at the restaurant, an intimate Italian bistro with an upscale wine list and waiters with black bow ties and starched shirts. They were seated at a table by a window.
“Just so you know, my pocketbook does not cover this sort of a place,” said Pine after she looked at the prices.
“This is on me,” said Graham. “I’m sorry I didn’t make that clear.”
“You don’t have to do that. I was just going to order water and an appetizer.”
“No, please, you’ve already given me some great material. I really appreciate it.”
They ordered and were sipping glasses of red wine from Sonoma Valley when a familiar voice called out.
“Ladies, if I knew you were here, you could have joined me.”
They both looked up to see Jack Lineberry gazing down at them. He was smartly dressed in pearl-gray slacks, a striped shirt, and a dark blue blazer with tasseled loafers. A pocket square of color fronted the jacket. His skin was lightly tanned, and his hair was neatly trimmed. Perhaps for the first time, Pine realized what a very attractive man he was.
Graham beamed up at him. “Jack, I didn’t know you were going to be here.”
“Last-minute change of plans. I just finished up. But I don’t want to interrupt.”
“Please, join us for a glass of wine,” said Graham.
When he turned and focused on Pine his features froze.
“Are you okay?” asked Pine.
His face changed color. “I’m…I’m sorry,” he said, his grin weak and forced. “For a minute there—”
“—you thought it was Julia,” Graham finished for him, her exuberant expression fading quickly as she said this.
Lineberry slowly sat down next to Pine and nodded, his gaze averted from her. “Yes,” he said quietly. His face was pale and his voice was husky.
“I’m sorry if it gave you a nasty turn,” said Pine.
He lifted his gaze to hers. “No, quite the contrary, it was an overwhelmingly positive feeling.” His expression turned embarrassed by this admission and he looked at Graham. “Did you mention a glass of wine, Lauren?”
The waiter must have overheard this because he hurried over and poured one out for him.
“Thank you, William,” said Lineberry to the waiter.
As the man walked away Pine said, “I take it you’re a regular here?”
Lineberry nodded, but Graham added, “Jack bankrolled this place. Otherwise, it would never have happened.”
“Good food and wine should not be the exclusive property of big cities,” noted Lineberry. He glanced at Pine. “You look quite lovely tonight, Lee. I…” He looked away.
“You didn’t realize I had any potential beyond pants, attitude, and a gun?” But Pine grinned as she said this, softening the bluntness of her words.
He smiled warmly. “Something like that.”
Graham said, “She was giving me some professional information for the novel I’m writing.”
“Wonderful. That’s very considerate of you, Lee,” said Lineberry.
Pine said, “Just keep in mind that if you’re writing a historical detective novel, DNA and luminol and all the rest won’t be appropriate subjects.”
“I know. But I plan on writing a second novel set in current times, too, so there’s that.” Graham rose from the table. “Just going to hit the little girls’ room.”
Pine thought that Graham maybe wanted to freshen up her makeup and hair now that Lineberry was here. But this gave her an opportunity with the gossipy Graham out of the picture for the moment.
“While I have you here, Jack, I’d like to ask you some follow-up questions, if that’s okay,” said Pine.
He looked startled. “Follow-up questions?”
“About my parents.”
He nodded slowly. “Okay, I’ll tell you what I can.”
Pine inwardly frowned at his comment, not quite sure how to interpret it.
“Myron Pringle gave me a magazine showing my teenage mother to be a fashion model, walking the runway in London. And apparently back then her first name was Amanda and her last name was unknown.”
Lineberry just gazed at her dully. “Did you not know your mother’s maiden name?”
“Astonishingly not. I know it sounds crazy, but she never talked about her family. Not once. Neither did my father. I just assumed they had no family living.”
“Okay.”
“Did you know that about her? That she was a model?” asked Pine.
He sipped his wine and set it carefully down. “I recall your mother mentioning something like that once.”
“And you weren’t surprised?”
“That your mother was a model? No, of course not. She was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. I…” He coughed, looked embarrassed, and stared into his wineglass.
“But to go from all that to Andersonville?”
“I can’t in all honesty tell you that I didn’t find that odd, because I did. But your parents never chose to explain their reasons for coming here and I was not going to pry. I mean, we all have things in our lives we’d rather not talk about.”
“You obviously cared for her,” said Pine.
Lineberry reached for his wine again, but then withdrew his hand. He cleared his throat and without looking at her said, “I cared for both your parents. What happened to them should not have happened. It troubled me back then and it still troubles me to this day.”
“You tried to find my mother?”
“I wanted to know that she was okay, yes.” He glanced at her. “I hope that the challenges you mentioned her having are not insurmountable.”
His features showed the strain that he was under in making the query.
“In all honesty, I don’t know.”
He nodded. “Life is quite strange, you know.”
“How so?” asked Pine.
“You have a vision, a predetermined idea of how things will work out. And then none of it does.”
“I think most people would take how your life has turned out a hundred times out of a hundred.”
He looked at her with a sadness there that Pine found deeply confusing.
“Well, things are not always how they seem,” he said before finishing his wine and bidding her good night.
As she watched him walk off, Graham came back to the table. Pine had been right. Her lipstick was fresh and her hair had been brushed.
“Is Jack coming back?” she said, sounding hopeful.
“No, he’s heading out.”
Pine had a sudden thought and looked at her. “Did you know he was going to be here tonight?”
“What? Oh, no. I had no idea.”
Graham was a lousy liar, thought Pine.
They watched as Lineberry headed out the front entrance. Pine thought she could see Jerry standing outside, waiting.
“He’s such a wonderful man, but he feels things so deeply. Maybe too deeply,” said Graham.
Pine was pondering something else.
Exactly when did Jack Lineberry fall head over heels in love with my mother?
Chapter 44
FOR THE SECOND TIME that night Pine heard the term “Wow” used in her general vicinity.
She had gotten back to the Cottage after dinner in Americus. Graham had already gone off to her room, but Pine had lingered in the foyer thinking about the discussion with Lineberry when a man had come out of the shadows and spoken the word.
She looked at Eddie Laredo.
“What are you doing here?”
He grinned. “I got a bump on the per diem, extenuating circumstances. I checked in here today. They had one room left. Much nicer than where I was staying.” He looked her over. “Where have you been dressed up like that? Some international ball or something?”
“Dinner with Lauren Graham.”
“You know, I’ve never seen you in a dress before.”
“Why would you? I never wore one to work.”
“
Right,” he said quickly, taking a step back. “So how did dinner go?”
“I didn’t have enough to drink.”
“What?”
She checked her watch. “It’s early yet. You want to hit the Clink?”
He looked taken aback by the offer but quickly nodded. “Sure. You want to change?”
She eyed him sternly. “Do you want me to?”
He looked even more flustered. “What! No…That’s up to you.” He ran his gaze over her. “You…you look…um, I don’t have an opinion—I mean…”
She pushed past him and walked over to the door. “Glad we cleared that up.”
* * *
The Clink was three-quarters full, and Pine drew stares from all as she and Laredo walked in.
Standing beside her, he had to look up at Pine.
“What?” she said, catching his gaze.
“With heels on, you’re taller than me.”
“If your male pride is wounded I can go barefoot.”
“Depending on how many drinks we have, it may come to that.”
That just got him a snort in reply.
They found a table at the back near the singer and guitar player holding forth on an improvised stage.
Pine ordered a Budweiser and Laredo a gin and tonic on the rocks with three limes.
“You haven’t changed your drinking habits,” she noted.
“Neither have you.”
“Cocktails were beyond my pay grade.”
When the drinks came she tapped her metal can against his glass.
They sipped their drinks and listened to the singer and musician for a minute, their heads swaying to the sounds. Then Laredo said, “What was the dinner about?”
“Payback for Lauren Graham’s help. But there was an interesting development.”
“What was that?”
She told him about Jack Lineberry.
“So he had a thing for your mother?”
“Unless I’m reading him way wrong. In fact, for a minute there…”
A Minute to Midnight Page 23