“No, he ain’t. You’ll have to wait until ten o’clock.”
“Look, Sergeant, I know I’m not a very popular guy around here—but this isn’t for me. A young lady is missing, and the lieutenant may be able to help.” When the policeman hesitated, Savage added, “It might be crucial. I wish you’d let the lieutenant make up his mind if he’ll talk to me.”
“Well—I’ll give him a call.”
Savage stood in front of the desk, longing to break into action, but knew that he had to be patient. Inside, a fear that had been birthed when Ellen had first called was growing. He’d felt uneasy about the case from the beginning. Someone had killed Cory Louvier, and if it had not been Eddie Prejean, then that someone was still wandering around free. And if anyone got too close to him, he had nothing to lose by killing again.
“He says he’ll be here. You wanna wait in his office?”
“Thanks, Sergeant.”
Savage left the front desk, making his way to the office according to the sergeant’s directions. Ignoring the chairs, he went to the window and stared out at the uninspiring view. He was still there thirty minutes later when the door opened and Catlow walked in, irritation in his gray eyes.
“Sorry to be a pest, Catlow,” Savage said quickly. “But my boss didn’t come home last night.”
Catlow stopped abruptly, his brow knotting. “You checked around?”
Savage shrugged. “That’s what I’m doing here—” He ran through the circumstances, stressing that Dani was punctilious about letting her people know where she was. He ended by saying,” . . . so she didn’t call in to the office, which is odd—and she didn’t call her mother, which she just wouldn’t do.”
“Got the stuff on her car?”
“Luke Sixkiller is handling that. She came to see you yesterday?”
Catlow nodded slowly. “Yeah. She was here.”
“She say anything about where she was going?”
Catlow thought rapidly, then asked, “You know about the lighter?” When Savage gave his head a negative shake, Catlow gave him a quick summary of what he and Dani had talked about. When he was through, he stroked his chin slowly. “I think someone found that lighter at the scene of the crime, and she was shielding him. The way I got it, we missed it, and somebody else found it. And it wasn’t one of us who lost it, either. I’ve checked everybody who was there, including the lab boys.” He shook his head slowly, “I’m wondering now if she ran into whoever owned that lighter. I hope not.”
“She left here to trace it? Where would she go?”
“She mentioned going to some jewelry stores.”
“I better start running them down.”
Catlow nodded at a phone. “Use Oakie’s phone. I’ll use mine. There’s a thousand jewelry stores in this burg.”
Savage’s eyes narrowed. “Well—thanks.”
“You don’t know about this, do you?” Catlow said, noting the doubt on Savage’s face. “Well, I sort of took to your boss, and—” He hesitated, then looked directly at the other man. “And the rest of it, Savage, is that this case has never felt right to me.”
“You don’t like Prejean for it?”
“The evidence said he did it—but I got a little built-in warning system. You been a cop, so you must know how it is,” he shrugged. “It goes off sometimes when I least expect it. All the time I was working on the case, I kept looking around for something that said he didn’t do it.” He stared out the window for a moment, then turned his face back to Savage. “It’s going off like crazy right now. Let’s find out where she went with that lighter.”
Most of the stores were not open, but Catlow left demanding messages on the answering systems. The few they did get were negative, but they kept at it doggedly. Lou Oakie walked through the door at 8:30, halting abruptly at the sight of Savage using his phone and making notes on his notepad. He glared angrily at Savage and turned to Catlow saying, “What’s going on here?”
“Miss Ross is missing, Lou. Find a phone and start checking the hospitals.”
“Oh.” Oakie hesitated, then left the room. He came back in fifteen minutes to report, “Not in any of them.” He fidgeted restlessly, then asked in a subdued voice, “Anything else I can do, Riley?”
“You might call the people who do engraving—fancy stuff in gold. She said something about looking into that.”
Oakie left the room at once, and two minutes later Catlow stopped dialing a number when he heard Savage exclaim, “She was there!” Savage nodded at Catlow, then said, “I’ll be right over, Mr. Blanchard.” He hung up the phone, his eyes bright and excited. “She was there, Catlow. I’m going to talk to him.”
“Okay. Call me if you get anything.”
“Yeah, I’ll do that.” Savage hesitated, then nodded and said warmly, “I appreciate it.”
“Well, you’re a pest, Savage, but your boss has class.”
“Whatever!”
Savage got directions to Blanchard’s store, and fifteen minutes later he pulled up, parking the Hawk in a spot marked Handicapped. There were no customers, and the tall man who came to meet him said, “You’re Savage? I’m Blanchard.” He didn’t offer his hand but demanded, “What’s this all about? The young woman?”
“Yes. She didn’t come home, Mr. Blanchard. I’m afraid something’s happened to her. What time did she come here?”
Blanchard mentioned the time, then at Savage’s request, related the details of Dani’s visit. He spoke slowly and was meticulous in the way he went over his conversation with Dani. Finally he said, “. . . and so I told her I’d see if I could find out who made the lighter.”
Savage stared at Blanchard’s long face and asked without much hope, “Have any luck?”
“Young man, there is no such thing as luck.” Blanchard’s long thin lips curled upward in an expression of disdain. “If a man does what he can do, he will succeed. If he doesn’t, he will fail.” Then he nodded and a light of pride came into his eyes. “The answer is—no, I didn’t have ‘luck.’ But through hard work and intelligence, I did find out who made the lighter.”
Savage blinked, and then he shook his head with admiration. “I’ll have to remember that, Mr. Blanchard. Who made the lighter?”
“Simon Westenthall—a very fine craftsman,” Blanchard said. “I know him slightly. He was the third name on my list, and he knew the piece as soon as I spoke of it.”
“Who’d he make it for?” Savage asked quickly.
“A young woman, he said.” Blanchard took a piece of paper from his pocket, stared at it and read the name carefully, “Lila Dennois.”
“Address?”
“She didn’t give one. Just ran by and told Westenthall what she wanted. Then she came by later and picked it up. Paid in cash, he said.”
Savage shook his head in a gesture of disappointment. “May be able to trace her by name. Can I use your phone?”
“Of course. Come back and use the one in my office.”
Savage followed the jeweler, dialed Sixkiller’s number, and got him at once. “Luke, any word there on her?”
“No. Nothing on her car either. You got any leads?”
“A real thin one that’s about played out. Listen, I want you to find out what you can about a woman named Lila Dennois . . .”
Sixkiller listened while Savage rapidly told him the details of the lighter, then said, “I’ll find her, Ben. I’ll go by and make sure Westenthall can give a positive identification on her, too. What’s your next move?”
“I have an idea Dani might have gone to the Leonard Hotel. She told me she wasn’t happy with the story that Clyde Givens gave about seeing the murdered girl leave with Prejean. It’s just a shot in the dark, but it’s all I’ve got. Say, call Ellen and tell her all this—or as much as you think she needs to know. I told her I’d call, but I’m short of time. Tell her I’ll call later—and if anything turns up there, call me at Catlow’s office.”
“Okay, Ben—and good hunting!”
&n
bsp; Savage put the phone down and turned to face the jeweler who had taken the call in with obvious interest. “Did Miss Ross say where she was going when she left here, Mr. Blanchard?”
Blanchard thought hard, then shook his head. “No. I’m certain she didn’t. But I don’t think she would have gone to any more jewelers to find out about the lighter. She did say she’d come back and check to see if I’d found the craftsman who made the lighter.” A troubled look came to his faded eyes, and he asked, “Do you think she’s in real trouble, Mr. Savage?”
“I think she is,” Savage nodded. “She’d have gotten in touch with her family if she was able. She’s a very considerate young woman.”
“So I would have judged.”
“Mr. Blanchard, call me at the local police station if you think of anything that might be helpful, and ask for Lieutenant Catlow—he’ll know how to find me. And thanks for all your help.”
“It was nothing—nothing!” Blanchard sighed. “She mentioned God to me, and I spoke harshly to her.” He looked down at his shoes silently, then lifted his gaze to Savage. “At times like this, I wish I did believe in God.”
Savage studied the old man’s face, and nodded. “I know what you mean, Mr. Blanchard. Well—I’ll call you if she turns up.”
Blanchard called out as Savage made his way to the door, “Yes, please call—” But Savage was gone. The old man turned and went back to his high stool at his workbench, then sat down slowly. He watched through the window as Savage pulled away, then a sound at his feet made him look down. A chubby calico cat was staring up at him with round eyes, and he slowly bent down and picked her up. He stroked her fur absently, and then whispered, “Yes, Dolly, I wish I could believe in God. Such a fine young woman—!”
Heading for the Leonard Hotel, Savage got only two blocks away when he had a thought. Ducking into an Exxon station, he used the pay phone to call Catlow. As soon as the officer answered, Savage told him what he’d found out from Blanchard.
“Lila Dennois? Don’t know the woman,” Catlow said slowly. “What now?”
“There’s a chance Dani might have gone to the Leonard Hotel. The security guard, a big ox named Mullins, doesn’t like me. Maybe you could give him a call—tell him what a fine chap I am and how nice it would be if he let me talk to the help.”
“Have at it, Savage,” Catlow said at once. “I’ll rattle Mullins’ cage. Let me know if you get anything.”
“Sure. Oh, yeah, I gave your number to some people in case they get anything, so you may get a call. I’ll check later.”
Ten minutes later Savage was facing Mullins, who said with a red face, anger glinting in his small eyes, “Yeah, you can talk to the guys. No problem.”
“Hey, that’s real nice of you, Mullins,” Savage said smoothly. “I appreciate it. Be as quick as I can so I don’t slow them up.”
“Always glad to help,” Mullins said, forcing the words out through tight lips.
Savage nearly smiled, for he knew the big man wanted to chew him up and spit him out. But he only nodded, and left at once. He wanted to tackle them one at a time and found Bejay Guidry clipping the mock orange trees beside the hotel. He recalled what Dani had told him about the man and said at once, “Guidry, I’m Ben Savage, one of Miss Ross’s operatives.” He flashed his ID and saw apprehension leap into the man’s dark eyes. “You’ve gotten yourself in over your head, man,” Savage said, deciding to handle the young man roughly.
“Hey, what’s all that jazz?” Guidry held the shears in both hands, clipping a branch to show he was cool. “I told all I know about that dumb case. Go read the report.”
“I’ve been reading reports, Bejay,” Savage said, curling his lip in disgust. “You’re going up the flue on this one.”
Guidry gave up his pretense of clipping branches and dropped the shears on the ground. His eyes narrowed as he said, “What you trying to pull, you?” he said softly, as he balanced himself on the balls of his feet as though he were ready to throw a punch.
He knows something, Savage decided. But he’s a tough one.
“I hope you do go down, Bejay,” Savage said. “I told Miss Ross to let you go up the river, but she said to give you a chance.”
“You’re talking crazy!” A sudden thought came to Guidry, and he said, “You been talking to that crazy Dax Fontenot, ain’t you?”
Savage had never heard the name, but said, “Sure, I have.”
Guidry shook his head. “The guy’s got the mind of a ten-year-old—and you’re listening to him?”
“He made some sense, Bejay.”
“Sense? Dax don’t know enough to tie his shoes.” Anger stirred the Cajun’s face, and he added, “He’s always hated me ’cause Cory liked me better than him.”
“Not what he told me,” Savage shook his head. None of what Guidry was saying made sense, but he hoped something would fall out of the man that would fit. “You’re going to take a hit, Guidry. You been to Angola? You won’t like it much.”
Perspiration suddenly appeared on Guidry’s forehead, and he looked around, then said in a lower tone, “You want some advice? Don’t pay any attention to that nut. I talked to him, yeah, but he ain’t got nothing that’ll put me away.” He lowered his voice, adding, “If you want to do some good, be sure your boss stays away from him. He don’t like her. He told a friend of mine that Lady Detective .38 she carries won’t help her if she don’t stop poking her nose in his business!”
Savage’s eyes sharpened. “What friend did he tell that to?” When Guidry hesitated, he snapped, “You’re in a spot, Bejay! And for some reason my boss wants to help you. Now—what friend?”
“Annie Louvier,” Bejay said reluctantly. “Now, I got to go to work.”
“I’ll be dropping by—or maybe it’ll be Lieutenant Catlow.”
Savage wheeled and left, not giving Guidry a chance to argue. He found Leon Williams stacking dishes in a cabinet in the dining room. The black man smiled at once. “Why, Mr. Savage, you back again?”
“Hello, Leon,” Savage said hurriedly, then asked, “You haven’t seen Miss Ross, have you?”
Williams stared at him. “You means recent? No, suh, I ain’t.” Seeing the disappointment on Savage’s face, he asked, “Something wrong with Miss Ross?”
It went against Savage’s policy, which was never to tell anyone anything he didn’t have to, but he suddenly said, “She’s missing, Leon. I’m afraid for her.”
“No! Oh, Lord help that lady!”
“Listen, I’m going to be moving around, but if you hear anything, give me a call. I can be reached at Lieutenant Catlow’s office. Here’s the number.”
“I’ll pray on it, too,” Williams nodded firmly.
“Miss Ross would like that, I think.”
Savage left Williams and found Clyde Givens sitting at the desk in the parking lot. There was something about Givens that bothered him, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. He quickly discovered that Givens hadn’t talked to Dani—or claimed that he hadn’t. But Ben didn’t feel inclined to lean on him as he had on Guidry. He asked him to phone Catlow’s office if Dani got in touch with him, and Givens agreed rather sulkily.
Savage left the hotel and drove around the city, trying to think. On almost every case there came a time when there was nothing to do but wait—but this time there was no time. He drove down to the river, parked by the levee, and then walked up to sit and stare out over the expanse of brown water moving steadily toward the Gulf. Tugs pushed long steel barges against the current, and when he glanced to his right, he saw the colorful platform just north of the USS Kidd—the spot where he’d asked Dani to marry him.
Usually Savage was able to handle things, even tough things.
But this was not something tough that affected only him. He sat there on the grass, gripped by the most depressing sense of helplessness he’d ever known.
The river surged past, roiling brown eddies against the bank, and the paddlewheeler, The Samuel Clemens, started churnin
g the water as the pilot backed her out into the current.
The wind was brisk and chilly, but Savage didn’t feel it. For thirty minutes he sat there, then got up and walked down the levee toward the bridge. As he walked along, he kept his head down, and images of Dani came to him. He thought of her as he’d first seen her in the silo, and remembered he’d had nothing much but contempt for her—thinking she was just another Jesus freak. He remembered the look on her face when the two of them had fought a desperate battle on the snow-covered top of that prison, a battle that seemed hopeless, so great were the odds against them. But at the most critical moment, he remembered her face, how it had not been defeated but how it had glowed with a faith that had shaken all his thoughts about religion.
He thought about the fights he’d had with her—and how her eyes seemed to sparkle when she was angry. He thought about how he’d kissed her, holding her tightly in a cabin on a bayou, with a giant gator bellowing below. The smell and the touch of her firm body pressed to his as he held her—he thought of that, as well.
But the more he thought of her, the more helpless he felt. He turned under the bridge, and made his way back to the car. Slamming the door, he sat there, uncertain about what to do and unable to put the rising fear that had been growing for hours at rest.
Finally he drove back to the Leonard Hotel and got a room. When he was alone, he called Catlow, saying, “I’m in room 314 at the Leonard Hotel. Got to do some thinking. If anybody calls, put him through here.”
Catlow agreed, and then Ben called Sixkiller. The two talked for some time, wrestling with the matter. Savage could tell that Luke was getting shaky. The burly homicide officer was fond of Dani, and like Savage, he was a man of action. Finally he said, “It’s in God’s hands, Ben.”
Savage stared at the phone, then said, “Sure, Luke.” He hung up, then called Ellen. He spoke with her for a long time, not giving a great deal of hope, but just being company. He knew that she was terribly afraid, but he could only try to cover his own fears while he comforted her.
He soon discovered that he couldn’t fool this woman. “Ben—” she said finally, “I know you don’t believe much in what God is able to do. But you’re wrong. I’m scared—can’t help that! But I’ve got someone who keeps me from falling apart—the Lord Jesus!”
Race with Death Page 19