“It has done that,” Beck muttered, and leaned across his desk to pick up the ringing phone. At the same time, he motioned to Hal to take a seat in one of the empty chairs.
Beck’s call was short and he hung up just as Lisa poked her head in the door.
“First of the onslaught is just starting,” she told the chief. “What do you want to do about traffic control?”
“Put Duncan out on the highway till eleven”-Beck pulled his chair up to his desk and sat-“then call Phil in and ask him to take over out there until two. Things should have eased up a lot by then.”
“What about here in town?”
“I expect the only real problem will be where Kelly’s Point runs into Charles Street, there at the crosswalk,” Beck said.
“I’ll take that until noon,” Hal told him.
“Then I’ll take over from you from twelve to four,” Lisa offered.
“Aren’t you supposed to be off today?” Beck frowned and searched his in-bin for the schedule.
“Monday and Tuesday.” Lisa leaned against the door jamb.
“I’d have thought you’d be down at the boatyard to give your husband a hand.” Hal smiled. “Bound to be some foot traffic, all those people down on the docks. Someone’s going to want to look at a boat. Singer’s Boatyard is the only show in town.”
Lisa smiled back. “The boatyard’s Todd’s baby. He does his job, I do mine. His sister took the kids to the beach for the weekend, so we’re both doing our own thing today. But yeah, we’re hoping that a few folks in the crowd will be looking to pick up a boat this weekend. He’s put a few on sale, so we’ll see.”
“Well, if you want to take the lot down nearest the dock, that’s okay by me. We can put Sue on bike patrol,” Beck said, “just to have a presence on the street. Discourage pickpockets, find lost kids, lost parents. Give directions, that sort of thing.”
“Sue just came in at eight,” Lisa told him. “I’ll let her know she’s on bike today.”
“I’ll do a little foot patrol from time to time during the day,” Beck said. “Tomorrow, Lisa, you can take bike. I expect people will be leaving at different times throughout the day, so I don’t think we’re going to have the mess we’ll have today.”
“So who’s going to be minding the fort back here?” Hal asked after Lisa left to find Sue, the only other woman on the force.
“Me,” Beck told him. “I’ll be in and out all day. Frankly, I don’t expect much. This isn’t a biker convention-it’s not much more than a bunch of yuppies out to put a few miles on their Docksiders, looking to see how much money they can spend in a single weekend. Buy some cool artsy stuff at Rocky’s gallery, maybe some antique something at Nita’s, grab an ice-cream cone at Steffie’s after they eat crabs out at the pier or over at Lola’s. Then maybe they’ll spend a few hours down at the harbor watching the boats, maybe even wander into Singer’s and buy one of those fancy boats Lisa’s old man has sitting in his showroom. I’m thinking the most action we might see will be the parking tickets Duncan writes. A fender bender or two, maybe, since people will be traveling on foot most of the time, once they come into town and park.”
Beck leaned his arms on his desk and grinned.
“And like I said, this isn’t exactly a party crowd.”
“You’re probably right.” Hal hoisted himself out of his seat. “I’m going to head on down to Charles Street. Guess I’ll see you around at some point during the day.”
“Thanks, Hal.” Beck stood as the older man started toward the door.
“For what?”
“For coming back to help out.”
“My pleasure. Truly, it is. I don’t mind traffic. Never did.” He stood in the doorway, half in, half out. “Even when I sat where you’re sitting, I never minded traffic patrol.”
“You just wanted to see what was going on in town. Who was driving what. Who was going where with whom,” Beck teased.
“Damn right. Part of the job.” Hal was still talking even as he left Beck’s office. “Chief of police has to know what’s doin’ in his town. Only way to know for sure is to get out there and keep an eye on folks.”
Beck could hear Hal at the end of the hall, talking to Garland and flirting harmlessly with Sue, who was twenty-five and good-natured enough to flirt back.
Well, there was no denying Hal was in his element here, Beck thought as he returned to the pile of mail that had yet to be answered. He figured today would be a good day to get to that. The building would be all but empty for most of the day, and by noon he should have all the mail caught up.
He glanced out the window behind his desk and noted that cars were starting to pull into the lot across the road from his building. Beyond the lot he could see the New River, and beyond that the Chesapeake Bay. Off to his right and hidden from his view was the small, shallow harbor and the docks. He knew from past experience that by noon the town would be filled to near capacity. The latecomers would be looking for parking out on the side of the road leading out of town and walking back to the center of things. Like they say, the early bird gets the best parking space.
Beck turned on his computer and quickly scanned his e-mail. One message stood out.
MISSING WOMAN read the subject. Beck opened it and read the note from his fellow chief of police up in Ballard, a town about four miles away.
The e-mail contained a photo of a pretty young woman with light brown hair and gold-brown eyes. She laughed into the camera, as a large black dog climbed into her lap. The e-mail identified her as Colleen Preston, of Ballard. Twenty-two years old, last seen on June 26. Beck glanced at the calendar. She’d been missing for two weeks now. He knew what the chances were they’d find her alive.
He tapped his fingers on the side of his keyboard. Hadn’t there been a similar e-mail from another police department just a few weeks back?
He checked his old mail. There it was, from Chief Meyer, over in Cameron. He opened the e-mail and read it through, then printed out both that notice and the one from today. He placed the pictures side by side. The two women couldn’t have been more different. Colleen Preston was five feet nine inches tall. Twenty-year-old Mindy Kenneher, from Cameron, was five two and had short blond hair. The only similarity appeared to be that they’d both left home one morning to go to work, and never came back.
Beck got up and walked to the end of the hall, taking both printouts with him. At the bulletin board, he pinned the two pictures up, side by side. On his way back to his office, it occurred to him that Cameron was about seven miles from St. Dennis. Which made it only three miles from Ballard. Way too close to St. Dennis for comfort.
He wondered if either of the girls had turned up. If the investigations had led to any leads. If Meyer in Cameron had been in touch with Chief Daley in Ballard. If they’d traded notes. That’s what he’d do, if it happened in his town.
God forbid, he thought as walked back to his office.
The photo of Mindy Kelleher was still on his computer screen. Pretty girl, he thought as he closed the e-mail. As the image faded away, a solid chill went up his spine. It gave him pause for just a moment. Then he turned off the computer and headed down the hall.
“I’ll be on foot for a while,” Beck told Garland as he passed by and left through the front door.
He walked swiftly to the path that led from the building to Kelly’s Point Road. From there it was a short walk to the center of town. It was a path he’d walked more times than he could count. Today he couldn’t seem to walk fast enough.
Like Hal said, the chief of police should know what was going on, and today was as good a day as any to see what folks were up to, and who was walking the streets of his town.
2
“So what was the final tally?”
Vanessa Keaton, Beck’s sister, slid into the booth across from her brother, then plunked her large designer handbag on the seat next to her.
“Is that thing alive?” Beck asked.
“Is what thing aliv
e?” Vanessa frowned.
“That…whatever it was you just tossed onto the seat there.” He pretended to crane his neck to see over the table. “’Cause you know, this is a nice restaurant. They don’t allow animals in here.”
“Very funny.” She held up the bag, which was a patchwork leather number trimmed in faux fur. “Isn’t it darling? I get them from a designer in Baltimore. And for your information, it’s fake fur. I wouldn’t sell anything with real fur. And I sold eight of these little babies this weekend. I’m going to have to order more.”
“So I take it your shop is doing well?”
“Please. It’s a boutique.” She fluttered her eyelashes and tossed her long black hair over her shoulders. “And quite the froufrou boutique it is, too.”
“Yeah, froufrou. Whatever,” Beck said and signaled for the waitress.
Vanessa laughed. Beck tried not to.
“So you didn’t answer my question.” She opened her menu and began to scan the specials. “What was the final tally for the weekend?”
“Four fender benders, sixteen parking tickets, three lost kids, six lost parents, one pedestrian knocked down by a bicycle-fortunately, not a bike ridden by one of my officers-three stolen purses, and a couple of lost credit cards.” He sipped the beer he’d ordered before she arrived. “All in all, not so bad, given the size of the crowd we had.”
“How’s the pedestrian?”
“She’s fine.” Beck looked up as Shirley, the waitress, approached. “I’ll have the soft-shells tonight, Shirl.”
“Good choice. They’re perfect.” She made a note on her order pad. “Salad dressing, Chief?”
“Blue cheese.”
“Same for you, Vanessa?” the woman asked.
“Ah, you mean, crustaceans cooked in garlicky butter in their allegedly edible little shells?” She wrinkled her nose. “I think not. I’ll have the flounder special. Balsamic dressing on the greens.”
“You’ll never be mistaken for a native, you keep talking like that,” Beck teased.
“I don’t have a problem with that.” She shook her head firmly. “I never pretended to be a native of the Eastern Shore, bro. And therefore I am exempt from having to eat those floppy little crabs.”
“Those floppy little crabs are damned tasty.”
“I just can’t get past the fact that they’re caught while they’re molting, for Christ’s sake. Scooped up when they’re most vulnerable, sold to the highest bidder, and slapped into a pan of butter and herbs…” She faked a shiver. “Inhuman, I say. Sneaky and underhanded, even.”
“But damned tasty,” Beck repeated.
“So you say.”
“And what was your tally this weekend?” he asked as their salads were served.
“I did so well, Beck.” Vanessa’s eyes shone with pleasure. “My best sales ever. It was just wonderful. All those customers, oohing and aahing over all the pretty things. It was just the way I always dreamed it would be, having my own little shop.”
Beck cleared his throat.
“Boutique, that is,” she corrected herself with a grin. “Lots of customers lined up at the cash register all day long. It was just…perfect.”
“Now, you know that every weekend isn’t likely to be as busy,” he reminded her.
“I know it won’t always be this good,” she said, nodding, “but I think St. Dennis is going to continue to attract crowds, right on through to the fall. And the Chamber of Commerce has all those wonderful plans for Christmas; the brochures were given out all weekend. I was handing them out to the customers and a number of people said they’d be back.”
“I’m just saying take it as it comes, Ness. I don’t want you to be disappointed.”
“I appreciate that, but I think it’s going to be a great season. I think all the advertising has paid off. I saw Jonah on my way over here, and he said his inn is booked straight into September.”
“You’re kidding.”
“No. I’m telling you, St. Dennis is the new hot spot on the Eastern Shore.”
“Swell,” he said, half under his breath.
“It is swell. For us merchants, anyway.” She poked at her salad happily. “For you…well, maybe not so much. Maybe you need to think about hiring a few more officers.”
“There’s nothing in the town budget for that. I’m lucky to have Hal and Phil even part-time this year.”
“Well, with all the extra money the town is going to bring in over the next few months in parking revenue alone, you should be able to get maybe one more cop out of the town council, don’t you think?”
“We’ll see.” He speared a chunk of cucumber. It wasn’t just the salary, he could have told her, it was benefits, uniforms, another car, higher insurance, but Beck was tired from the long weekend and wasn’t up to giving his sister a lesson in municipal finance.
“Anyway, I’m glad you had a great weekend, Ness.”
“I had a super weekend.” She grinned, her eyes sparkling.
“Something else happen?”
“I got asked out to dinner for tomorrow night.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “As in a date.”
“Who?” He frowned. “Who asked you out?”
“Mickey Forbes.”
“Forbes?” Beck’s frown deepened. “He’s married with kids.”
“No, he’s not. They’re getting divorced.” She ignored his disapproval. “Where have you been? She left him months ago.”
“Still…”
Vanessa tossed her hair back, and the image of Colleen Preston flashed through Beck’s mind.
“How well do you know him?”
“Beck.” She put her fork down. “It’s dinner. Dinner. That’s all. What’s the big deal?”
He hesitated, not sure what to say.
“Look, it’s really sweet of you to want to be the big brother. I kinda like it sometimes, especially since I didn’t have that growing up, you know?” She tried to laugh. “And God knows, I could have used some brotherly guidance, back then.”
“ Ness…” His face darkened with regret.
“Hey, not your fault. That wasn’t meant as anything other than a statement of fact.” She reached across the table and patted his hand. “And you’ve more than made up for it this past year. There’s no way I can ever repay you for helping me set up the shop and finding the apartment for me and-”
He waved her words away.
“Just be careful who you go out with, where you go, keep your doors locked, that’s all I’m saying.”
“Do you know something I don’t know?” Her eyes narrowed.
“Little sister, I know lots of things you don’t know.” He tried to interject a little humor into the conversation but it fell flat.
“Admitted, but right now we’re talking about Mickey Forbes. Is there something you know about him that I should know?”
“No, nothing. I just didn’t know he was getting divorced, that’s all. Wouldn’t want to see you step into a mess.”
“I appreciate that, Beck. I really do.”
Their dinners arrived and the conversation ceased for a moment as each concentrated on their meal.
“There is one thing,” he said after a few minutes of near silence. “I got alerts from the chiefs of police in two nearby towns. One from Cameron, which is about seven miles south of here, and the other from Ballard, which is-”
“I know Ballard. The stable where I ride is in Ballard.” Vanessa nodded. “What was the alert about?”
“Each town has a young woman missing. Cameron a little over a month ago, Ballard two weeks ago.”
“And they haven’t been found?”
“Not as far as I know.”
“But they haven’t been found dead, either, right?”
“Right.”
“So they could just have run away or left town or be off on a binge someplace? Couldn’t it just be a coincidence that there are two of them?”
“It’s possible. I don’t know enough about either case right now t
o say, but I guess when someone’s missing, those are all possibilities. Earlier today I called both Daley and Meyer, but I haven’t heard back yet. Of course, I was out of the office all day. I expect I’ll learn more once I’ve been able to catch up with them. But in the meantime…”
“I hear you, and I understand what you’re saying.” She nodded slowly. “And I promise not to do anything stupid or go anyplace alone. Though God knows St. Dennis is probably the safest place I’ve ever lived.”
“There’s no place that’s entirely safe from everything, Ness.” He cut his soft-shell crab with his fork and raised the fork to his mouth.
“Oh, man, that is one ugly thing you’re eating.” She visibly shivered.
Beck waved the fork at her, relieved to have the diversion. The two young women had been heavy on his mind ever since he’d read those e-mails yesterday morning. Vanessa’s comments were right on. Either or both of them could have returned home by now, or contacted their parents to let them know their whereabouts. Or they could have run away from home.
Or they could be dead.
He shook off the last thought. If he didn’t hear back from someone by tomorrow noon, he’d try Warren Daley again. Maybe he’d have some news that he hadn’t gotten around to sharing with the surrounding departments yet.
Maybe then that cold spike Beck got up the back of his neck every time he thought of Colleen Preston or Mindy Kenneher might go away for good.
They finished their entrées and talked quietly while Vanessa polished off a huge serving of strawberry shortcake and two cups of coffee. Shirley returned twice to the table with the coffeepot in her hand.
“You sure, Chief?” She asked when he declined a second cup.
“I’m sure,” he told her. “I’m up with the sun again tomorrow. Any more caffeine and I’ll still be awake come dawn.”
“Which would make him very cranky,” Vanessa stage-whispered.
“Well, we couldn’t have that, now, could we?” Shirley placed the check on the table. “Whenever you’re ready, Chief.”
“That’s mine.” Vanessa reached for the check. “And don’t argue with me. I had a very good day.”
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