by Terry Shames
She throws her hands up. “We’ll get a posse. We’ll get hundreds of people to spread out all over.”
I can’t help chuckling at her enthusiasm.
“People could knock on doors. It wouldn’t be hard.”
“I like the idea,” I say. “The problem is, we can’t put people at risk. That’s what law officers are paid for. Suppose some well-meaning person knocked on the kidnapper’s door and got shot for their trouble?”
A big, heavy sigh. “I suppose you’re right.”
I pick up our plates and take them into the kitchen. She follows me. “I haven’t asked about your trip,” I say. “You came home early. How were things with your daughter?”
“Could be worse. I think I have lockjaw from forcing myself to keep my mouth shut and a big smile on my face, but it kept us from having a major battle. I don’t mean to imply it was terrible. We had a few laughs. She even teased me when she knew I wanted to spout an opinion and didn’t.”
“Where is she off to now?”
She frowns. “She was reticent to say exactly where she’s going. I don’t know why she didn’t say. All she said is she’s going to the East Coast to visit a friend.”
“At least she’s in this country.”
She shakes her head. “I guess. I wish I could trust her to tell me the truth. She doesn’t want me to worry, so she’s always vague about her plans. She doesn’t realize that being vague worries me more than if I knew specifics.” She laughs. “At least I think it does.”
“Does she ever talk to her sister?” Her sister lives in Bobtail, is married, and has a sedate life.
“Oil and water. They’re cordial, but they don’t really have anything in common.”
I’m feeling restless to get back to work again, and Wendy senses it. She puts her arms around me and hugs me. “I’m going to go home now. I didn’t even unpack. I came straight here as soon as I got home and set my suitcase down.”
Dusty and I stand on the porch and watch her go. When she drives away, Dusty looks up at me as if wondering what I did to send her away. “Come on, boy, we’ve got to get back to work.”
Maria is on the phone when I walk into the station, and she waves me over with vigorous hand motions. “Okay, thank you very much. We’ll be there to talk to you in twenty minutes.”
She sets down the phone. “A man saw the flyer and called us.”
“Suspect?”
She stares at the phone as if it might double as a Ouija board. “Probably not, but you never know. Sometimes a guilty person will try to play cat and mouse. He said he went out for coffee with Loretta on Saturday, a few days before she disappeared.”
CHAPTER 23
T
he coffee shop is a Starbucks in one of the shopping centers that has sprung up in the last ten years on the outskirts of Bobtail. The main store in the mall is a big grocer, surrounded by a dry cleaner, a real estate office, a shoe store, and various other small shops. Just the kind of mall I would imagine Loretta might like to poke around in.
Wade Drummons is a man my age, with scrawny arms and legs and a bowling ball middle. What surprises me is that he has a little fluff of mustache. I can’t imagine Loretta going for that. She preferred that men be clean-shaven. I wonder whether the photo of him on the website had the mustache.
Maria orders a frothy coffee drink, and Drummons and I get plain cups of coffee. He also buys a brownie. “I love brownies. I order them anytime I can get one.”
We’re lucky and the place is not crowded, so we get a table.
“What kind of drink did Loretta order?” Maria asks, after we sit down.
He shrugs. “Some kind of frou-frou drink like you’ve got.” He nods toward Maria’s mocha.
“Mr. Drummons,” I say, “Before you tell us about your encounter with Loretta Singletary, let me get a few preliminary questions out of the way. Did you and Loretta get in contact with each other through the dating website, Smalltownpair?”
“Yes. I saw her photograph and thought she looked nice, so I got in touch with her, and we agreed to have coffee.” He pinches off a bite of the brownie and shoves the plate out to the middle. “Help yourself. They’re good.”
I wave it off, and Maria eyes it but shakes her head.
“When did you meet her?” I ask.
“It was Saturday a week ago. The flyer said she disappeared the next Tuesday. That’s right after I saw her.”
“Did you arrange to see her any more after Saturday?”
“No, although we left it open that maybe we’d have coffee again sometime.”
“How many times have you met women through the website?”
“Hmmm . . .” He looks at the ceiling while he finishes chewing a bite of brownie. “Six times.”
“How did the meetings go? Did you ever see somebody more than once?”
“No, I didn’t. I’m particular about the kind of woman I want to date, and I haven’t found anybody who is a good match yet.” He has polished off the brownie and wipes his hands on his napkin.
“Have you been married before?”
“Yes. I was married twice. My first wife ran off with another man after only a year. But my second wife, Alison, lasted thirty-two years. She died a while back. Heart attack—the silent killer they call it, and that was absolutely right. No idea she had a bad heart, and bam! She was gone.” He shakes his head. “She’s the kind of woman I’m looking for. My family says I’m too picky, but I think if I found one like Alison once, there’s another one out there for me.”
“How long ago did your wife pass away?”
He sighs. “Eighteen months ago. It’s only in the last few months that I decided I ought to try to start dating again. It gets lonely being by myself after I’ve had a good woman in my life.”
I know what he means, although Jeanne has been gone for a while. “Tell me about your meeting with Loretta. What made you decide to contact us?”
“Okay, okay,” he says, nodding. “When I first saw the flyer, I wasn’t going to bother you, but then I thought, ‘You know, she said something that struck me.’ I thought maybe it could be of help to you.”
“What was that?” Maria says. I can see she’s trying not to be too eager, but we both want to pounce on the little hope he holds out.
“I have to give you a little context. We figured out pretty fast that we weren’t meant for each other, but we liked each other. Like I said, we even thought we might meet again sometime, just to talk. She had a funny sense of humor, and we were relaxed. We started talking about our pasts and our families. And then we went on to talk about how we decided to go on the dating site, and how we picked the people we wanted to get to know. We both said we didn’t want anybody too young, and we didn’t want anybody weird. She said she didn’t want anybody with a dog, although she could tolerate a cat. That kind of thing.” He looks from one to the other of us to make sure we’re following.
We nod for him to carry on. He’s chatty.
“Then she surprised me. She said that she would like to meet someone quirky. And I asked what she meant. She said somebody who had an interesting past or an interesting occupation. She had talked to one guy online who had been in the circus when he was young, and she thought that might be interesting. She also said she was thinking about going on a date with a man who had a chinchilla farm.” He chuckles. “I asked her if she had ever seen a chinchilla up close, and she said no. I told her they’d drive her crazy. They never stop moving.” He laughs again. “She said she would mark him off the list.” He shifts in his seat. “But the remark I’m referring to is that she said she was going to meet a man who said he was interested in the fact that she liked baking, and that he would like to learn how to bake.”
“Learn how to bake?” Maria says.
“He said he was a chef, and he’d never learned to bake.”
“A chef. Did she say where he worked?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “We moved on to other subjects.” He leans closer. �
��She was a nice lady. I wasn’t attracted to her, you know, in that way, but I’d feel bad if something happened to her. I take it she hasn’t been found?”
“That’s right. And we really appreciate your coming forward with this. Did she say when she was going to meet the man?”
“That’s what perked up my interest. She said she was meeting him the next day, Sunday. She said she was meeting him in Bryan, although she didn’t know whether she wanted to get involved with a man who lived that far away.”
“We appreciate your coming forward,” I say. “Gives us something to work with.”
Maria says, “What did you do before you retired?”
“Insurance. Drummons and Son Insurance. Went into my daddy’s office right out of high school and never considered doing anything else. It was the perfect job for me. Made a good living. Married a good woman, at least the second time.” He snickers. “Me and Alison had a couple of kids, and they’re both raising their families right here in Bobtail. I’m a lucky man, if you don’t count losing my wife.”
After he leaves, I think it’s a shame that he and Loretta didn’t hit it off. He seems like a solid person, and she could have done worse . . . and in fact, probably has done worse.
“I’ll check up on his story,” Maria says as we’re walking out.
She’s right. No matter how upright he sounded, you have to verify everything.
When we walk out of the Starbucks, I see that it’s almost five o’clock. “There’s one thing I’d like to check on if we can get there in time.”
I drive to Darlene’s Beauty Shop. Darlene said that Lucy normally works Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday, but that she had a few clients this afternoon. I hope she hasn’t left for the day.
Maria goes in with me, and I see Lucy behind a woman in the styling chair, using a hair dryer on her. I assume that means she’ll be done soon. She’s intent on what she’s doing, with that same sour expression on her face. She walks around in front of the client and then cocks her head to look at the hairdo critically. When she starts back around, she glances up and sees me. She looks startled. But then she glances over at a woman sitting in the waiting area, and I realize she is probably worried that we’ll take up time she needs to get her clients out.
When the woman she was working on gets up and heads for the pay station, which consists of a little desk, Lucy follows her, saying to me, “I’ll be with you in a minute.” The woman pays, and Lucy comes back, hands on her hips. She glares from me to Maria and back. “I’m really backed up. I don’t have time to talk. I need to get out of here at a reasonable hour.”
“One question. That’s it.”
She glances over at Darlene, who is eyeing us. “Okay, what?”
“Did Loretta Singletary ever mention that she was going on a date with a cook or a chef?”
A funny look flits across her face, like she’s alarmed, but then she frowns. “No, like I said, she didn’t talk about that kind of thing at all.” I don’t remember her saying that, but that’s all I needed to know. When we leave, Maria says, “That is one unhappy woman.”
I tell her what little I know about the woman’s husband leaving her in the lurch financially.
I managed to fend off Scott Singletary over the weekend, but I could tell he was getting more and more agitated. The dam breaks at 6:00, just as I’m leaving for the day. He calls and chews me out, saying he doesn’t know what I’ve been doing, but it obviously isn’t enough. He tells me he’s coming back tomorrow, and if I don’t have a solid lead by then, he is going to see to it that my job isn’t safe. I suspect he has been getting grief from his brother, who must feel helpless living so far away.
I don’t tell him that he isn’t likely to have much sway in town over my job. The fact is, if I can’t find Loretta, and if she ends up dead, I don’t think I’d have the heart to continue the job anyway.
“Scott, I wish I had good news for you. Believe me, I’m as frustrated as you are.”
“I seriously doubt that.” I hear his wife murmuring in the background. It sounds like she’s trying to calm him down.
“I do have a couple of very slim leads, and I’m following up on them.”
“What leads?”
“I can’t discuss it with you. But I promise I’m doing everything I can.”
I hang up to find Maria looking as mopey as I feel. “What leads?” she says.
“I fudged. Lead, not leads. The chef.”
“How are we going to find him?”
We stare at each other, willing a bright idea. “I guess the only way is to talk to every damn cook in the county and ask if he met Loretta.”
But we both know that’s absurd. For all we know, the man might not have been a chef at all. Or he doesn’t live in Bobtail County. Or when asked whether he met Loretta, he could lie. Even if we did question the right person, he might realize we were hot on his trail and decide that Loretta has become a liability. We might be signing her death warrant if we get too close.
“We’re getting out of here for tonight,” I say. “But both of us need to come in tomorrow morning with a new idea. I don’t care if I have to stay up all night to think of one.”
As I walk to my car, I’m thinking that the only way we’re going to catch the guy we’re looking for is through the dating site. I need to start back at the beginning and recheck every single person who Loretta might have contacted. I’m convinced one of the men she was in touch with is a kidnapper. And I need to figure out a way to smoke him out.
After I gobble down a meal, with Dusty hot on my heels, I head for Loretta’s place to retrieve the list of men’s names that she considered as possible dates. Maria took them back to Loretta’s place after she tried calling the men in case we needed to check them on her computer again. It occurs to me that it may be an incomplete list, and I may have to dig deeper.
The first time Maria and I went through the list and the website, we were not taking seriously the idea that Loretta had been abducted. Or at least I wasn’t. Maybe we missed something.
I bring the pages back to my place, pour myself two fingers of bourbon, and get to work. The first thing I do is set up a dummy profile on the dating site, as if I’m a woman looking for a man. If the kidnapper took two women, it’s likely he won’t stop there. I’m hoping that a new profile will get his interest. Working from Loretta’s profile, I create a “woman” by the name of Nancy Helms. Like Loretta, she loves to cook, especially baking, she’s a widow, owns her own home, likes to go to live country music concerts, and dabbles in art. I decide to take out that last part, not wanting to make it too similar. I ponder whether to say she’s a Baptist but finally say “churchgoer.”
I don’t have a dummy photo to put in, but I’ve noticed that a few participants in the website say, “Photo on request.” I put that in.
I post the profile and start the second part of my mission. When I went through Loretta’s list the first time, I was only interested in the ones that she marked as possible. But what if she changed her mind about one? I begin the painstaking process of matching each name with a profile. Luckily for my search, for each man she was interested in, she wrote down the number associated with his profile, so I have a way of finding them.
My plan is to read through each profile to see whether there are any who call themselves chefs. If that doesn’t work, then I’ll have to think of other criteria. Reading the profiles is hard work because they are like reading a bad book. Only one or two of them seems to have any imagination. One after another, they list their former occupation and what they like to do in retirement—golf, fishing, and hunting are the biggest ones. One says he does charity work, and another likes to do carpentry now that he’s retired. On the first two pages, I find two men who say they like to cook, although they don’t mention being chefs. I turn to the third page and stop short. There are only three pages. I’m sure there were four when Maria and I first went through them.
I go ahead and read the profiles on the third p
age, and nothing pops out at me. But now I have to go back and get the fourth page. I must have left it behind.
It’s late, way past my bedtime, but I intend to finish this tonight. Dusty is reluctant to leave his comfy bed, but he also doesn’t want me to go out without him. We trudge back to Loretta’s house. The evening air is nice. It has cooled down. A few porchlights are on, but most are turned off. Everyone has gone to bed. It’s peaceful. Or at least it would be if I wasn’t on such a hard mission.
The missing sheet isn’t in Loretta’s desk. I go through all the drawers of the desk and look behind it to make sure it hasn’t fallen back there. It isn’t on the countertops in the kitchen. Maybe Maria snatched them up too quickly and left one behind at headquarters. I consider going there to look for it, but my eyes are tired and my brain is shutting down. Tomorrow will have to do.
CHAPTER 24
Wednesday morning, I go straight to headquarters, but I don’t see the missing sheet. I call Maria at home and ask whether she remembers where it might be. She tells me she didn’t take any of them home, so if it’s not at Loretta’s, it would be at the office. “I don’t suppose you made a copy?”
“Didn’t think of it.”
“It’s missing.”
“Where could it be? Do you suppose that’s what the man who was in her house was looking for?”
“It’s possible. I can’t remember if he was there before or after you took the list back to her house.”
“I can’t remember either,” she says.
“We’ll figure it out.” I tell her I made a fake account on the dating site last night. “Since he lured two women, I’m hoping he’ll be looking for more.”
“We can always hope,” she says. “And by the way, you should call Elaine Farquart’s next-door neighbor and ask if she mentioned going out with a chef.” Maria tells me she won’t be around for a while. She is meeting Jenny Sandstone in the DA’s office in Bobtail late this morning to discuss what more she needs for them to pursue a case against the man she suspects of being guilty in the cold case.
