“Oh yeah, did you have anything to do with what she deserved, Raven?”
“If I did, I sure as hell wouldn’t tell you, would I, Gallagher!”
The detective’s face turned red as he angrily reacted, “You have just become my first suspect, Raven. I will do everything I can to nail you to the wall for what you did to the Taylor girl if you are the one who made her invisible.”
It was Raven’s turn to get mad,
“Detective dickhead, if I gave that bitch what she deserved she wouldn’t disappear. You would easily see her with her face smashed in and the rest of her limbs decorating the freshman Homecoming float at halftime.
I don’t make people go away I make them pay for what they did to the ones I love. That’s my style. You have no style. You’re a loser.
If I was working this case, I’d be ashamed of myself if I were you. You couldn’t convict a shoplifter with a refrigerator clamped to his back!.”
She spied Mick sitting on the table on her way out, “And, what is this, a troll?” She held it up near Gallagher’s face.” Nice likeness, looks like you have similar physical characteristics if you catch my drift!”
As Gallagher stood there speechless, his raven-haired suspect stormed out of the room slamming the door so hard it shook the entire police station.
More importantly, he forgot to get her handwriting sample. Cursing under his breath he went over to the window and watched her turn around, look up at him and flip him off before she angrily strode to her car.
He shook his head, “Well, that went well.”
Chapter Forty-seven-redding Shaw
That afternoon, as Mike Gallagher and Officer Jerry Simpson stood on the porch of Archer Taylor’s former business partner, the patrolman noticed Gallagher was quieter than usual, “You okay, Mike?”
“Sure, great.” He lied.
Officer Simpson rang the doorbell and soon a middle-aged man with a shock of wavy red hair answered the door. The individual was 6’3” tall and fit. He looked like a retired athlete.
He was also very genial. “Hi, I’m Redding Shaw, nice to meet you!”
As the detective and the officer introduced themselves, they were led in to a study just off the front door. As they were seated, a maid came in wheeling a tray of coffee and sweet rolls.
As she left, Gallagher got to the subject at hand. “Mr. Shaw, we’re here to ask you some questions as background regarding the disappearance of Allison Taylor.”
Redding Shaw seemed genuinely sympathetic, “Yes, a terrible tragedy. I feel bad for the family. How is he holding up?”
Gallagher and Simpson looked at each other in surprise. The detective looked back at Shaw, “You haven’t heard?”
“Heard what, Mr. Gallagher?”
“Arch Taylor is fighting for his life at Baptist Memorial. He had a heart attack.”
The ex-partner recoiled in disbelief. “When did this happen?”
“Last night. He is being monitored 24/7. It’s a touch and go situation. I think the strain of his daughter missing finally got to him.”
“I need to get over there and see him,” countered Shaw.
Gallagher agreed, “That would be a nice gesture. I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news. But, Arch told me something that brought us here today. He believes that his daughter’s disappearance is linked to his, uh, activities with high school and college girls at parties that were held here in your home. Can you illuminate that a little for us, Mr. Shaw?
Redding Shaw’s scarlet features turned several shades deeper at the mention of, “girls”, “parties” and, “your home.” He stood up and walked over to his fireplace mantle pausing before he spoke,
“Nothing illegal went on here, Detective Gallagher. Neither me nor Archer engaged in any sex with underage girls. There was no alcohol or drugs that I know of and everything was on the up and up.
The kids played Scattergories, monopoly, swam in the pool, had pizza, you know, the usual teen stuff.”
Gallagher was unfazed, “Mr. Shaw, two things; first, I don’t believe a word you are saying. I just don’t have any proof to arrest you. But, I find it ludicrous that you invited these girls over to play board games with them.
Secondly, if you keep up this line of bullshit I will do a little more research and bust your ass faster than you can say the words, ‘red hair dye.’ I am not interested in your what pizzas you ordered, I want to know why he said what he said. Don’t screw with me, Redding, especially not today.”
Simpson looked away and chewed on his tongue so he wouldn’t laugh aloud.
Redding blanched, “Okay, give me a moment, please.”
As the host stood there processing Gallagher’s statement, the detective watched him closely.
Finally, Shaw spoke, “I think what he was alluding to was that Allison didn’t approve of her father’s involvement with several of her contemporaries and it got her in hot water with a pretty nasty crowd who were capable of doing some damage to her if she pushed back at them.”
Gallagher bored in on him, “Allison was upset that daddy was playing around and instead of warning him, she gave some ultimatums to his party girls and they may have permanently shut her up?”
Redding Shaw nodded affirmatively. “These girls from her school were very cliquish. They stuck together.”
Gallagher didn’t understand this logic. “Then why didn’t you or Archer Taylor come to me following Allison’s disappearance and tell me this right away so I could move on it?”
The man with the red hair had no answer. He looked meekly at the floor.
“Was it because it would incriminate you, as perverted adult men, in a scandal that would make all of you look bad to the community? So, a young girl who was trying to protect her father’s reputation is now missing?”
Shaw tried to explain, “Mr. Gallagher try to understand that we are well-established in the town.”
Simpson quickly jumped in between her partner and the host. He could feel Gallagher losing control.
“Mike, think first before you do anything here. We have a court system. Let a judge handle this.”
Redding Shaw tried to justify his lack of honesty at the beginning of the case, “Hey, there’s no proof that these girls actually did anything to Allison, I just heard the rumor that,”
Gallagher was livid. The veins in his neck looked like a Rand McNally road map of rural Georgia. “And you let an innocent girl get hurt or even killed to save your cowardly ass?”
Jerry Simpson was literally on her knees tackling Mike Gallagher as he forced him to the ground. He yelled at Redding Shaw, “Get the hell out of here for your own safety, now!”
As the host walked quickly out of the room, the officer continued to sit on top of a squirming Gallagher. “It’s over, Mike. Let it go. Don’t go to his level. We’ll nail his butt in court.”
Slowly the detective took several deep breaths and finally got up off the floor. As they approached the front door to leave he looked back at the empty hallway and seethed,
“We’re coming back for you, Shaw. This community will find new role models to replace Taylor, you and the other vermin who use your power and influence to satisfy yourselves.”
As he left the richly dark interior of the Shaw estate, the pure radiance of the sun was a refreshing tonic to Detective Mike Gallagher. With each step he took away from the house he felt increasingly lighter.
Chapter Forty-eight--the man in the Mercedes
It was time to track down the driver of the Mercedes on the day of Verna Oden’s funeral.
Gallagher picked up the telephone and placed a phone call linked to the Mercedes registration to see if the residents had any answers for him.
“Hello?” A woman’s voice answered pleasantly.
“Hello, this is Detective Mike Gallagher of the Athens Police Department. I would like to speak to Mrs. Halverson?”
“This is Nadine Mason. My former name was Halverson. What does this concern, Mr. Gallagher?�
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“You are the mother of Malcolm and Verna Oden, correct?”
“Yes.”
“First of all, I am truly sorry for what you’ve been through this past month. I can only imagine the pain you must be going…”
“I can’t talk right now.”
Gallagher heard some muffled sobs and it was replaced by a man’s voice. “Hello, this is John Mason. Is this the police?”
The detective sensed an antagonistic tone in the man’s voice, “Yes, sir. This is Detective Gallagher. Athens Police Department, I am following up on a man seen driving a red Mercedes that belonged to Malcolm Oden.”
“Yeah, so, is that a crime?”
Gallagher laughed nervously, “No, of course not. But, I would like to talk to the gentleman who owns the vehicle. Do you know who that would be?”
“It would be me. I usually drive the car. But, it was in the driveway that day. We rode over to the funeral with friends. We left the Mercedes in the driveway and when we returned, it was in the same place.
Did you get a license plate on the car? Maybe you saw the wrong car, detective.”
Looking down at his notes, Gallagher repeated the license plate number, “The tags were YGG145, Mr. Mason. I copied them down as the man drove off. He appeared to be in his late thirties, with a similar build to, uh, a man that age.”
The detective rolled his eyes at his own ridiculous statement, hoping it didn’t sound as stupid as he said it. It did.
“A man that age could have any build, detective.”
Gallagher was not going to tell the John Mason that his stepson, heretofore dead, may now be alive. So, he tried a different line of questioning, “Is there anyone else who drives the Mercedes, Mr. Mason?”
“Well, my wife, of course, maybe once a week. My son Danny drives it occasionally, too.”
“Did Danny ride over with you to the memorial service?” he asked hoping to get a negative answer.
“No, Danny didn’t go with us. He rode over with a friend.”
“Sure he did,” thought the skeptical detective, “I see,” Gallagher smiled, “how old is Danny, Mr. Mason?”
“Nineteen,” calmly answered the man. Gallagher’s heart sank. This was not the guy he saw at the funeral. He now had a major problem.
His name was Malcolm Oden.
“Thank you, Mr. Mason. This clears up any questions I have. Please extend my sympathies to your family. I am sorry to bother you at this time. Good-bye, sir.”
Hanging up the phone, Mike Gallagher was thinking two words…
Search warrant.
He wanted to see if there were any hair fibers or fingerprints of Allison Taylor in or out of that red Mercedes.
If she knew the person who abducted her, she would have easily gotten into a vehicle with all the trust in the world.
Especially with an assistant headmaster named Dr. Malcolm Oden.
Chapter Forty-nine--A handwriting Match
“Gallagher, here are the handwriting samples the Colony school faxed over for Margaret Williams aka Raven. How do they look to you?”
The detective studied them carefully. He especially noticed the telltale crossing of the letter “t” in lower case. It had the identical dip to it that was on the note left on Justin Shaw’s car windshield.
This put Raven right back in the thick of things. It was time to call the girl in for another interview. He braced himself as he phoned her with his latest request.
“Hello Margaret, this is Detective Gallagher.”
“Yes.”
“I need for you to come back to the station. I have a few more questions…”
“Okay, I’ll be there in twenty minutes, Gallagher. See you then!”
Click.
As he stared at the receiver he wondered if the girl had bipolar disorder. He had expected a tirade and instead, got a gentle assent.
He wondered if she was finally willing to cooperate or if she was changing her tactics as she continued to play a cat and mouse game with him.
He also wondered how well she knew Malcolm Oden. He was pretty clear on how well she knew Archer Taylor.
She showed up promptly. Just like she promised she would. As she entered the conference room, Gallagher noticed she was smiling at him.
“What is she up to…?” thought the detective.
“Hello, Raven, thanks for coming by. I want to show you something.”
He opened her file from the school and showed her the handwriting samples from some of her essays. She looked at them and nodded. “Recognize the writing here, Margaret?”
Raven glared at him. “I don’t like that name. Play nice, Gallagher,“ She reviewed the handwriting and then smiled smugly, “Yep! That’s mine. I remember cheating on this paper, got an ‘A.’”
“That’s noble, Raven,” the detective then laid a second sheet in front of her It was the cryptic note Justin Shaw had found on his car windshield. “Do you remember writing this message or is this plagiarism, too?”
“Hmm, interesting piece of work, isn’t it? Why would Allison Taylor write a stupid thing like that? Oh, I forgot, because she is stupid!”
Gallagher was surprised. He shouldn’t have been. After all, he was dealing with Raven.
“This was written after Allison Taylor disappeared, Raven. This means, if she wrote it, she may have voluntarily disappeared. If she didn’t write it, then someone who knew her handwriting did and that is the person who probably took her that day at noon.”
“That’s not her handwriting, Gallagher. It’s my handwriting.”
The detective was shocked at Raven’s honesty. “So, you’re saying you wrote this note?”
“Who were you suspecting, Mr. Green in the ballroom with the chandelier?
Try to understand this. This is my handwriting style, not Allison Airhead’s. She loved the way I wrote and she copied me. She didn’t have an original bone in her anorexic body!”
This was news to Gallagher. “She was anorexic?”
“No, but she was thinner than me, the bitch!”
The detective laughed, classic Raven logic.
“Okay, so you’re saying this handwriting is yours, but you didn’t write it? So, who do you think wrote it?”
“Obviously, the person who took you know who!”
“And, that wouldn’t be you, you or you?”
“Not a chance. Too much work. Kicking her ass was fun. But, kidnapping? Oh, the logistics…”
“You could help me on this case you know…”
“Yeah, I know. But, I won’t. I don’t like the police. They do strip searches for their own pleasure, creepy.”
“I didn’t do a strip search on you.”
Raven smiled suggestively, “But, you’d like to.”
Gallagher laughed again, “I think I’ll pass. My wife would have an issue with it!”
“Relax Michael, I don’t do married men.”
“Really, that’s not what I heard? I was told you and your friends love to party with older men who happen to be very, very married.”
“Mr. Gallagher, while ‘tis true that I have friends who, on occasion, allow their sleazy side to take money for a certain amusement involving the slimy, middle-aged male underbelly of this fair town, I have no use for someone who would pay me to service them.
Besides, I found the love of my life. It will be awhile before I venture out again after he died.”
“So, do you think some of your friends were upset with Allison Taylor for any reason relating to her father doing some sleazy partying?”
Raven frowned at the detective. The look on her face was tentative. She wasn’t sure she trusted him enough to respond to that specific question. At least that is what Gallagher sensed as she twisted her lips in contemplation.
“Let’s just say that Allison Taylor pissed off some very headstrong girls, Michael. And, leave it at that.”
“You know, I would love some names here Margaret!”
Raven picked up her purse a
nd turned to leave. As she passed from the conference room to the outer office, she cracked, “When you quit treating me like a child and start respecting me, I might just tell you what I think happened to Allison Taylor. Until then, go strip search a waffle iron.”
That brought laughs from the other officers in the room as Raven addressed them, too,
The Promise Page 20