by DK Herman
"Huh?"
I explained about Ernie's costumes and beer breakfasts.
"Wow!" Ben laughed. "I'll bet that was a sight."
I heard a commotion in the reception area. "I gotta go," I told Ben. "Talk to ya later." I hung up and walked out of my office to see what was going on.
Andy had arrived and was hugging Jessie while she cried.
"I can't believe your here," Jessie smiled through happy tears.
"I hear I have Hallie to thank for it," Andy said. He looked better than the last time I saw him. His hair was clean, and he was shaved. He looked like Andy!
"I'm glad if I helped, but I don't think I did much. Karl's the real hero." I moved to the couch and sat down.
Andy and Jessie followed me. "You remembered the drug baggies that I found in Marlowe's glove box," Andy said. "When the Chief found them in a locker, it proved I was telling the truth."
I smiled. "I'm glad I could help."
"Have you talked to my brother lately?"
Yeah, yesterday." I tried to sound nonchalant.
"I ran into him an hour ago, at my parents' house." Andy looked confused and hurt. "He didn't say a word to me and hardly looked at me. I thought he'd be glad I'm out, but he seemed mad."
"He didn't say anything about being mad at you," I said. "Maybe, he's just having a bad day."
It must be a real doozy. He's never been so cold to me." Andy hugged Jessie again. "Oh, yeah. I have a message from the Chief." Andy lowered his voice. "He thinks he can get the warrant to search the body shop, first thing in the morning. Until then, he doesn't want you going near it."
I nodded, but I'd planned on breaking in tonight. I didn't like Woody being in the hands of drug dealing scum, and poor Poppy would never be the same if the bastards killed him.
"Listen to me," Andy said in his cop voice. "Marv Deeter lives in a little shack behind the garage, and he's as crazy as a shithouse rat. He sets booby traps in the body shop when he leaves for the night. And if he caught you inside or snooping around outside the place, he'd shoot you for the fun of it."
"Thanks for the tip," I said. But I was still weighing my chances.
"And, the Chief asked me to remind you that anything you find inside illegally, could be thrown out in court. Marv, and whoever else is involved, could walk away from everything they've done. He said, if he has to, he'd lock you up. He's having patrols watch the place all night."
I grimaced. "Will he let me know if he gets the warrant?"
"Yep. And he'll let you tag along for the search if you promise to stay back and not touch anything." He grinned.
"Deal," I said.
"One more thing." Andy looked serious again. "Jerry Dalton reported for his shift this afternoon, high as a kite. His eyes were glassy, and his hands were shaking. Hell, he was so wired, I could see his heart beating through his uniform shirt! He refused a drug test, so the Chief suspended him without pay. On his way out the door, he yelled something about it being your fault. He thinks you've been bad mouthing him to the Chief."
I rolled my eyes. "Terrific." I looked at my watch. It was almost five o'clock. "Why don't you two head out. I want to go talk to somebody. Linda and Rayna can hold down the fort till six."
"Thanks, Hallie." Jessie ran to her office for her coat.
"What are you up to?" Andy asked suspiciously.
"I want to talk to Myron Banner," I said.
Andy seemed relieved. "He's a good guy. He takes good care of his wife and shows up for work. He doesn't have the energy for much else."
"He was at the police station when the drugs disappeared, so I need to ask him a few things."
"I'm ready, Andy," Jessie said eagerly. "Let's go back to my place, I'll cook you dinner."
"Have a good night, guys," I called over my shoulder. I stopped at Rayna's office and knocked on the open door.
Rayna looked up from her computer screen with a smile. "Hey, Hallie."
"I appreciate how hard you're working. You're handling it beautifully, without Poppy." I sat in a chair near Rayna's desk.
"I don't mind," she assured me. "I love what I do."
"I'm glad." I smiled. "Would you mind locking up with Linda? I need to go speak to someone. Andy's been released from prison, but Woody's still missing."
"Sure," Rayna assured me." If there's anything I can do to help, just let me know."
"Come to think of it, there is." I dug around in my purse for the phone number, I’d copied from an envelope in Jerry Dalton’s cabin. “I need a reverse lookup on this phone number.” It was probably nothing, but I had to check.
"I'll leave the information on your desk," Rayna said.
“Would you send it to my email?” I asked. “I want to look it over tonight.”
“No problem.” She smiled.
"Thanks. See you tomorrow." I went to my office for my coat and purse. After thanking Linda on my way out, I left for Myron Banner's home.
Myron Banner lives in a brown and tan, split-level home in an eighties housing development. The house had seen better days. A few shutters hung crookedly, and it needed a coat of paint.
I parked and followed a cracked sidewalk to the front door. Ringing the bell, I wondered how difficult it would be to live here with his wife in a wheelchair. But I knew from experience, how hard it is to give up your home.
Myron answered the door, looking more exhausted than he did in his picture. "Can I help you?" He looked at me curiously.
"I'm Hallie James, from James Investigations." I extended my hand. "I was wondering if I could talk to you for a few minutes?"
Myron shook my hand and opened his door wider, waving me inside. "I'm making supper, so we have to talk in the kitchen."
Inside the front door, the living room was decorated in blue and cream with scuffed hardwood floors. Shabby furniture was arranged against the walls. Maybe to make room for a wheelchair to maneuver.
I followed him up a short ramp, into a large eat-in kitchen. His wife was there, sitting in her wheelchair. She was slowly, slicing onions and carrots with a plastic-handled paring knife that she held awkwardly, in her right hand.
"Can I help with anything while we talk?" I asked.
"You can help Rhonda with the veggies." Myron handed me another paring knife and remembered to introduce us. Rhonda smiled at me warmly.
I smiled back and sat at the table next to her. I picked up a carrot and got to work. "I wanted to ask you some questions about last Saturday night."
"Sure," Myron said. Let me grab the lettuce, and I'll sit at the table with you girls." Myron sat down.
"Would you like to have supper with us?" Rhonda asked.
"It's only salad and burgers, but you're welcome to stay," Myron added.
"Thank you, but I'm expected at home soon." I finished peeling the carrot and began cutting it into thin slices.
"What did you want to ask me?"
"Did you see anyone in the police station, the night the drugs went missing?"
Like I told the Chief, no," he said.
Rhonda opened her mouth to say something, then changed her mind. She looked at her husband with an anxious expression.
"Andy is out of prison, Rhonda." Myron sighed.
"You did see someone," I said. I could see the truth in their eyes. " Why didn't you say something?"
"He's afraid of getting fired," Rhonda admitted. "And it's my fault, being stuck in this stupid chair."
"It’s alright, honey." Myron took her hand, not holding the knife. "It’s not your fault."
"If you weren't so tired from taking care of me all day..." Rhonda sniffled.
"You fell asleep.” I said gently.
Myron nodded. “Please, don’t say anything. We can’t afford for me to lose my job. But there are times, I’m just exhausted.”
Myron and Rhonda seem like good people, in a bad situation. However, I couldn’t let pity stand in the way of doing my job. “I understand, but I have a friend who's missing. And I'm certain th
at the scum running the meth lab have him. The person who took the drugs from the police station had to be a cop. It had to be someone with a key to both the key room, and the evidence room. Are you sure you didn't see or hear anything?"
Myron sighed and chopped some more lettuce. "Phil Stewart was on shift with me. He knows about my situation and covers for me when I fall asleep. He was in and out on calls, but he'd never do anything like this. But Dalton was in, early Sunday morning." Myron curled his lip in distaste.
"He's definitely on my suspect list." I nodded. "Anyone else?"
Myron nodded. "Around two in the morning, somebody woke me up, demanding to see the guy Andy arrested."
"Marlowe," I said.
"Yeah, the guy Jason Brady found strangled," Myron said. "I don't know how long this guy was in the station, but he woke me up yelling, and he had a big ring of keys in his hand."
"Who was it?"
"Andy's brother. You know, the guy that owns the bar. He’s tall with dark hair and blue eyes.”
“Hank,” I said.
“Yeah, that’s him.”
"You've been awfully quiet since you got home, Hallie," Aunt Jeannie said.
I was at the dinner table with my family, but I couldn't stop thinking of Myron Banner's revelation about Hank. "I have a lot on my mind." I put a piece of pork chop into my mouth and chewed slowly.
"Anything I can help with?" George asked hopefully. The man loved an adventure.
If I had these suspicions about anyone else, I know what I'd do. But this is Hank. If he knew I considered him a suspect, again in murder and drug manufacturing, he might get a little miffed.
But there was Woody to consider. Whoever had him, wasn't tucking him in at night with warm milk and a bedtime story. I had to do something. That something, was search either Deeter's Body Shop or Hank's home.
Since Chief Woods had put Deeter's out of bounds, and it was being watched by his men, that left Hank's house. And I must admit, I've been curious about the inside ever since I returned to Herville. Maybe I was a nosy bitch, but I was going to search Hank's bungalow.
Having made the decision, I felt a little better. "I need a volunteer to help with a snooping mission." I reached for a fresh roll, and the jar of Liv's homemade apple butter.
"I'm in," George said. "Who are we snooping on?"
I told my family about Hank waking Myron at the police station, early Sunday morning. And how Hank had treated Andy today. "I have to check it out, just a quick look through his house."
"Are you looking for Woody?" Poppy asked.
"Yes, or any sign that Hank knows where he is," I said. "I need somebody to make sure he stays in the bar while I look around in his house."
"I'll help," Poppy offered. Her eyes were brighter than they had been since Woody vanished.
"OK, and George, is there anything you can talk to Hank about, to keep him busy inside the bar?"
"I need to check on the wedding plans," Gram said with a wink. "George and I will talk to Hank about some details."
"What about me?" Poppy asked with pleading eyes.
"Gram and George are the distraction, you'll be my lookout," I said.
Poppy smiled for the first time in days. "When are we leaving?"
We all helped clear the table, and my search team piled into my SUV. Gram had called Hank to ask if she could go over some details, she'd thought of recently. He agreed to meet her in his office.
"If Hank’s in his office, call my cell, let it ring twice, and hang up. When Poppy and I are done, we'll come inside to get you," I said before dropping Gram and George off by the entrance. Then I drove deep into the lot and parked toward the woods, near Hank's bungalow.
The bungalow's white siding and light blue trim glowed in the moonlight. It's a cute little home with two stories and two dormer windows on the second floor. The first floor has a picture window to the left of the front door. A light burned towards the rear of the first floor
My cell rang twice and stopped. "Let's go," I said.
Poppy and I walked casually, to the bungalow's small front porch. Remembering Hank's quirk of not locking doors, I tested the doorknob. It turned easily, and the door swung open.
"Very trusting, considering he lives next to a bar," I whispered, handing Poppy a pair of gloves. We pulled out our flashlights and stepped inside.
"Keep your flashlight beam low," I reminded Poppy quietly. "I need you to stay in here." I led her into the living room, next to the picture window. If you see anyone coming this way, let me know, and we'll slip out the back."
Poppy nodded and took up her post.
I shined my light around the living room. It was filled with a comfortable looking couch and matching recliners, a forty-inch flat screen TV, and a small brick fireplace. There was nothing interesting, laying around on the couch or end tables. And Hank is a good housekeeper, everything was neat and clean
I wondered into the room on the other side of the stairs. It was a dining room with a table for six. A large photo of a little girl with long dark hair and bright, blue eyes hung on the wall. It must be Heather, his daughter.
Next I went onto the immaculate kitchen. It boasted cream and gold marble counter tops and a tan and blue tile floor. The appliances were a dark brown, and the cupboards golden oak. I peeked inside several cupboards and Hank’s fridge. He ate healthy, for a single guy.
I looked inside a large closet, full of cleaning supplies, before opening a door that led into a small cellar.
I descended the steps and had a look around. There was a washer/dryer set, a furnace, and a chest freezer, but no Woody. I returned to the main floor. Seeing Poppy at her post, I climbed the stairs to the second floor.
Upstairs, I found two good-sized bedrooms on either side of the stairs. A full bathroom was in the center, toward the rear.
One bedroom must be for his daughter when she visited. Everything was pink, even the lacey canopy over the bed. There was nothing but toys and a little girl’s clothes and shoes in the room.
The bathroom had a beige sink and tub/shower combo, contrasting against the azure blue walls and lighter blue tile floor. I checked in his medicine cabinet and found nothing interesting. After a look in his clothes hamper, I moved on.
The last door was Hank's bedroom. Decorated in tan and browns, it suited him. The closet held his clothes, hung neatly on hangers, pairs of shoes on the floor, and a few boxes on the shelf. I chose a box at random and opened it. It was full of pictures and old letters. I looked for any from Marlowe.
None were from him, but there were plenty from many different women. He must have had a hell of a good time in the army! Before I tore them to pieces, I returned them to the box.
I picked up some pictures and softened when I found our Prom picture still in its heart shaped frame. We looked so young and happy. I sighed and returned it also.
I looked under the double bed. Nothing there, but a pair of worn slippers and some dust bunnies.
Next, I went through the nightstand. The bottom drawer held a flashlight and batteries, some books and magazines, and a Smith and Wesson revolver. I closed the drawer and opened the next.
There were several pair of boxer briefs. I imagined Hank in a them, and my knees got weak. So, I sat down on the bed. After a couple of deep breaths, I reminded myself I had a job to do and continued the search.
My flashlight revealed a small box near the back of the drawer. It was a 12-count box of condoms. I peeked inside and counted, eight were missing. "Son of a bitch!” I exclaimed before clapping a hand over my mouth.
He was either seeing someone, or he was picking up floozies. Why did I let him kiss and touch me again? My temper piqued, I tossed everything back into the drawer and shut it. Then I opened it again, and arranged things a little neater.
Pulling down a ladder from a trapdoor in the hall ceiling, I had a quick look around the tiny attic. Then I returned downstairs to the living room and motioned for Poppy to follow me outside.
We hurried through the chilly evening, back to my car. We climbed inside, and I turned on the engine and the heat.
"Nothing?" Poppy asked.
"Sorry," I said. "Tomorrow, after Chief Woods gets a warrant, the police and I are searching another place."
"Can I go along?"
She looked so much better when she was doing something, so I couldn't say no. I nodded. "Come along with me to the office in the morning."
My phone rang as I saw Gram and George exit the bar. "Yeah," I said.
"Get out of the house," George said frantically. "We couldn't stall him anymore. He said that he's tired and going home."
"It's OK. We're in the car," I assured him. I put down my window and waved. I started my car and drove to the bar entrance.
Gram and George climbed into the back seat, and I drove us home.
I parked and went inside. Grabbing a left-over pork chop and a helping of mac and cheese, I went up to my suite.
Buddy and Princess greeted happily greeted me, but I could tell the instant that they smelled the pork chop. I took one bite and split the rest of the meat between them. Then setting my plate out of their reach, I went to the bathroom to draw my bath.
While the tub filled, I remembered the info on the telephone number. I whipped out my phone and found an email from Rayna.
The phone number belonged to a Tricia Marlowe with an address in Queens. Rayna ran a quick check on the name. Tricia was Chet’s younger sister and Dalton’s ex-wife! I would relay the information to Chief Woods tomorrow. I’m sure he would find the connection interesting.
I stripped, kicking my dirty clothes into my closet and took my mac and cheese into the bathroom. Slipping into the hot water, I sighed with pleasure. Nibbling my snack, I relaxed until I was sleepy.
Climbing out, I dressed for bed and climbed under the covers.
I woke at seven-thirty the next morning. Buddy and Princess lay on the couch in my sitting room. They were mad at me for yelling at them last night. "Sorry guys," I said, patting their heads. "It was two o'clock in the morning. I was too tired to put you outside, just so you could chase a deer, or whatever was out there."
Actually, their growls and barks had been a little intense and they'd creeped me out. I didn't hear anything outside when I opened my balcony door. And I got frustrated when the dogs wouldn't settle down. After yelling at them to be quiet, I felt bad. But I needed sleep for the day ahead of me. Hopefully, we would find Woody, alive and well.
