'The Connells,' Malone added.
'That's right, the police told me their name was Connell — I must try to remember that. Well, I wondered what they were having done, and I thought I should go over and see if I could help, maybe they'd need some washing done or something . . .'
Her mind was wandering a little and Malone was losing patience. 'Well, did you go over there?' he asked, wincing at his own use of the word well.
'No, the phone rang and it was my mother, I spent the next hour or so talking to her. You wouldn't believe how much she can talk!'
Malone found he could easily believe it. 'So you didn't get a chance to go over there. Did you see anyone get out of the van?'
'Well, as I told the police already, I didn't see anyone at the van at all. The windows were blacked out, but I guessed the plumber was already in the house.'
'What about the van itself? Did it have any special markings, or dents, or odd colours?'
'Let me think . . . apart from the name, nothing that I can recall.'
Malone could see she was losing interest in his line of questioning. 'I'm sorry Mrs Kirby, one last question. Did you see the van leave?'
'No, but I think I heard it leave.'
Malone tilted his head, puzzled.
'Well, while I was on the phone I heard the squeal of tyres, and the police said the van had left tyre marks so I assume that was what I heard.'
His questions about the van were exhausted, and he had nothing. The van was there before three-thirty, and had left about an hour later — not a lot to go on.
'Is there anything else you can tell me?' he asked with a hint of desperation.
Mrs Kirby shook her head slowly and said, 'Sorry, I can't think of anything else.'
He thanked her and left the house, pausing to take in the view of the Connells' house and the rubber trail left on the tarmac. Armed with his new clues, namely the brooch and the Glendale Galleria, Malone decided to take a detour on his way home. He wanted to check in with Detective Logan and give him the details of what he'd learned. Maybe Logan had something to add too.
As usual, the station was a frenzy of noise and activity. The desk sergeant put a call in to Logan and told Malone he was on the phone. Malone nodded when the sergeant asked if he wanted to wait, and he took a seat in the lobby. Officers and their catches came in and out, some forcibly, others very gingerly. Next to Malone sat an old man. He looked pretty beaten up, his head bandaged, his lip cut, and his arm in a sling. Malone thought about striking up a conversation but changed his mind when he saw the scowl on the man's face. He scanned the walls, looking at noticeboards with posters of lost children and wanted criminals pinned to them. Are they just this week's collection he wondered, or have they been there for a while? How long since my Mary's picture was taken down?
He found himself passing judgement on the suspects being brought in by the officers — the drug addicts, thieves, and physical abusers. He also made up stories about the two victims who came up to the reception desk of their own volition while he was waiting: the abused prostitute and the mugged businessman, or so he guessed.
'Having fun?' His thoughts were interrupted by Logan's familiar voice. 'It's a regular circus around here. You really do see all manner of people and all walks of life.' He sat down on the bench between Malone and the old man and dropped his voice. 'I'll let you in on a little secret. When I did a stint as a desk sergeant, I tried to guess what had happened to the person coming in before they even opened their mouth,' he grinned as he reminisced. 'You'd be surprised how often I got it wrong.'
Malone smiled as a fleeting look of embarrassment crossed Logan's face. 'I wanted to know if you'd turned up anything yet,' Malone asked, changing the subject.
'Not much small talk with you today is there? Come on, let's take a walk outside.'
Malone figured this meant he either had something, or less than nothing; he guessed it would be the latter.
As they walked, Logan began. 'I've been stuck in the station all morning. I didn't realize what a beautiful day it was.' He squinted as he looked up at the sun.
'I've gone over the reports on the Salinas case and tried to match them up to your own; I really can't see much of a match.' Malone's heart began to sink.
'However, it seems to me the Salinas girl was picked for a reason. Our first guess was kidnapped for a ransom, but there are a few things against that theory. First, the Salinases aren't wealthy; sure, they live in a reasonably nice suburb, but they're pretty much regular people. Second, and probably more relevant, it's been forty-eight hours and still no ransom phone call.'
'Okay, I'll bite; what makes you think she was targeted?' Malone interrupted.
'Timing, really. The van picked its time quite precisely; canvassing the neighbours, we found that the van was there for less than an hour. Also, the street is out of the way as far as a chance pick-up goes.'
Malone inwardly chastised himself for not taking note of that.
'What's the matter?'
'Nothing, nothing at all. What else?'
'I went over the reports from some of her friends, and it seems there was a guy in the shopping mall a few weeks back who was calling the name "Mary" in the direction of the group. When the Salinas girl turned to speak to him he apologized, saying she looked like his friend's daughter. None of them thought anything of it, but he did hang around the mall for a while. Not long enough to make them really suspicious though.'
Malone's interest had peaked when he heard the word mall.
'Did they give a description?'
'Yeah, they all did, and they all seemed to be somewhat different. Best we got was male, Caucasian, blond, roughly six foot tall. Not good, my friend.'
Malone sighed and agreed. 'Look, I know you may be a little bit annoyed, but I've just come from the Salinases' place.'
Logan's face didn't change; if he was angry he didn't show it.
'I just wanted to meet with them, to see . . .' Malone started to explain, then thought better of it. 'Anyway, you may be on to something with the shopping mall. My Mary used to go there too. Maybe this guy uses the mall as a hunting ground?' Malone spotted a small change of expression in Logan and pressed on. 'Hey, I know it's not much, but it is another similarity — it's something. Also, there's this.' From his pocket he pulled out a handkerchief. He unfolded it slowly and carefully, as if it contained diamonds. 'I found it in Mary Salinas' jewellery box. My Mary has the same piece, and neither the Salinases nor I know where they came from. I was thinking that maybe it was somehow used to lure the girls.'
Logan took the brooch, complete with the wrapping, and looked at it. 'Of course, I already know you went to see the Salinases; one of the guys from the surveillance team asked me about you. He remembered you and me talking at the coffee machine the other day. Plus I spotted you looking at their address on my computer when you came to see me. You could've just asked for the address and I'd have given it to you; they're in the White Pages.' He smiled at Malone and continued. 'Also, there's a team going through the mall security tapes trying to find an image of the guy who approached the girls. It's a bit of a long shot, but still worth exploring. Malls are a bit of a breeding ground for whackos.' He stopped short of saying that he didn't know why anyone would let their kids go to malls alone. 'Can I keep this?' Logan asked, nodding at the brooch.
'Of course.'
They had walked around the block back to the station. 'Look, there's really nothing to add so far; I'll follow up on the brooch and I promise you I'll keep digging and let you know if anything comes up.' The men shook hands, and Logan walked up the steps and into the station. Malone watched him leave. It was time to go home.
He felt okay about the day. He'd followed up on a couple of opportunities, and he felt confident Logan was doing all he could. The Salinases had been as helpful as they could under the circumstances — he really felt for them. The only minuses were the headache Mrs Kirby had given him, and accepting the role of counsellor for the Salinases.
Thinking of a way to get out of that was now adding pressure to his pounding head.
Daniel had been working hard all day too, checking for plumbers in the area who had beige vans. Although he was tired, he greeted Malone with a smiley face. Daniel was beginning to remind Malone of a pet dog he'd had as a kid — always pleased to see him, his tail wagging excitedly no matter how long Malone had been away.
They shared stories. Malone spoke of the mall and the brooch while Daniel reported he'd only turned up a few companies using beige vans. They agreed it was better than nothing at all and, as Daniel left, they vowed tomorrow would be better.
For Malone the next day started much the same, apart from the dream. Loud knocking at his door had brought him out of a particularly nasty nightmare. In it he'd been dressed in his pyjamas, running down the street, chasing a beige van. Thick black smoke billowed from the van's exhaust, and the acrid taste of diesel fumes filled his mouth making him choke as he screamed at the vehicle to stop because his daughter was inside. He could hear her banging on the inside of the van's rear doors.
He sprang up in bed and looked around the room, trying to focus and get his bearings. His throat was sore and he was covered in sweat. The bright aqua figures on the clock read 8.30 a.m., and he realized it would be Daniel knocking at the door.
'One minute!' he yelled and the knocking ceased. He grabbed a fresh pair of track pants and a T-shirt from the drawer and went to the door. Sure enough, there was Daniel with his smiley face and two cups of coffee.
'Were you in the shower?' Daniel asked, seeing Malone's wet hair.
'Something like that,' he muttered in response, and snatched the coffee.
There was little need to go over the previous day's events, but Daniel felt they should do it anyway, just in case they'd missed anything. 'Sometimes, when you sleep on things they get more focused,' he said. Daniel gave Malone a list of the four companies that used beige vans.
As he scanned the names looking for Abbott or About, Malone saw they all started with A. Aardvark Plumbers, Able Plumbers and Builders, Adam's Plumbing, and Angels Plumbers.
'I haven't got to the end of the A's yet.' Daniel's tone was apologetic. 'You have no idea how many plumbers there are in this city. I'm sure you already know there are no Abouts in the directory.'
Malone nodded; he knew the name didn't exist, but it didn't hurt to hope a little. Once their brief recap was finished, Malone stood up. 'Okay, I guess today is going to be a day of phone work. We'll take it in half-hour turns; you can start, I'm gonna take a shower.' He grabbed his coffee and walked off towards his room.
Daniel switched on the computer and got onto the internet. The Yellow Pages was their main source of leads, and they'd already perfected their plan of attack. Going through the list, Daniel would ring up in an irate manner, saying that one of their drivers, in a beige van, had just cut him off on the freeway. If the person on the end of the phone said they didn't have any beige vans, he'd apologize and hang up. If they did have beige vans, they'd establish after a bit of conversation it wasn't one of theirs that had caused the freeway distress, then once again he'd hang up. The lead would be noted for Malone to follow up.
At the end of the second day, the list of four leads had turned into a list of twelve, and they were up to the D's. They decided Malone should visit the names on the list the next morning, and congratulated each other on a productive day. Before Daniel left — and so he could get an early start in the morning — Malone gave him a key to the house and told him to come around when he wanted.
Early the next day Malone grouped the twelve leads by locality and took a cab to the first address on the list. Coolwater Plumbers' premises was in the middle of a small group of garages that claimed to be an industrial park. Malone had rehearsed what he was going to say so many times he felt as ready as he was ever going to be. As he walked through the door, a stout woman with her back to him was barking orders into a radio .
'3077. That's Threeee Ohhhh, Thirty. Have you got that?'
The radio static hissed for a moment.
'Roger that.'
'Stupid goddamned . . .' she stopped what she was saying when she spotted Malone. 'I'm sorry, but this is a telephone plumbing service only. No one is allowed in here. If you need a plumber you'll have to call . . .'
Malone interrupted her, 'I don't need a plumber, I . . .'
It was her turn to interrupt. 'There's a sign on the door saying No Hawkers, so if you don't mind . . .'
Malone didn't realize it was going to be this difficult. 'I'm not a salesman and I don't need a plumber. I'm just a parent in need of some help!' This silenced the woman and Malone pulled out a picture of his daughter. 'My name is Michael Malone. About five years ago my daughter was abducted by someone driving a beige plumber's van. The same thing happened to another family a few days ago, and I'm meeting with all the plumbing firms in LA that have beige vans and asking for information. All the companies so far have been very helpful, and I can only assume that if any are not, then they have something to hide. Would you be willing to help me, or do you have something to hide?' Trying hard to disguise his trembling voice, Malone felt pleased with the way his script sounded.
'We have nothing to hide. What information do you need?' the woman said as she folded her arms.
'Thank you,' Malone continued. 'If I give you the two dates and times, would you be able to account for the whereabouts of all of your plumbers?'
'A few days ago would be okay, but five years ago? Now that's stretching it. I doubt if our records go back that far.' Her tone had become softer.
It wasn't long before Malone had discovered the location of all four of their vans, and established that they were all working on the same high-rise.
The woman had heard about the Salinas girl, and wished him good luck as he left. Malone took a cab to the address of the next name on the list, and started all over again.
***
After four long and largely uneventful days, Daniel was tired of calling and Malone was tired of wild-goose chases. They discussed the future. Daniel told him he had to go back to work or he'd lose his job. Even if it was a crappy job, it paid the rent. Malone understood, even though the expression on his face was one of rejection. His sad-puppy eyes were enough to break Daniel, so he volunteered to come around after work to help out. Malone eagerly accepted.
The days turned into weeks and the investigation went nowhere. Malone arrived home after another fruitless day feeling completely dejected. It was time to give up on this pursuit. Since Daniel wasn't there that night, he decided he'd phone in the morning. Finding a piece of apple pie in the fridge, he threw it into the microwave, set the timer and hit the start button; the machine sprang into action and Malone watched through the glass as the pie rotated.
The phone rang, startling him; he snatched up the handset and said gruffly, 'Hello?' Daniel was on the other end. He was using his one phone call to reach Malone. After getting the basic story, Malone took a cab to the police station. Daniel had been caught helping some friends steal software from the Computer Warehouse. The plan had been simple. His friends would come in and buy a computer cable or something else of small value; in the same basket they'd have a box of software. Daniel would take money for the cable, deactivate the security chip on the software box, and they'd walk out with both the cable and the software. The first couple of times it went to plan, and on-selling the software reaped pretty good money. Then one of his friends got greedy and tried to take out three packs at once — and the floor manager got suspicious. Daniel was pulled into the office and the police were called. Daniel wouldn't rat on his friends, so now he was taking the full rap for the thefts.
Malone listened to the story and decided to help. He spoke with Logan and struck up a deal. He said he'd meet with the Computer Warehouse manager and arrange to get the charges dropped by paying for the missing stock. He told Logan he really wanted to give Daniel a chance because he knew he was a good kid.
Dani
el looked pathetic as Malone peered at him through the bars of the cell. A heavy stench of disinfectant rose from the concrete floor, causing Malone to turn his head away and take another breath. The dirty white walls of the cell were covered with graffiti: names and dates, each with its own story of hate and false accusation. Daniel was seated on the metal frame bed, back to the wall, his legs drawn up. His head was bowed, resting on his knees, and his fingers were entwined behind his head. The steel-barred door slid back with a heavy clang, and Malone walked into the cell. Daniel looked up; his eyes wide.
Malone looked solemn. 'I've met with the detective, and I'm afraid it doesn't look great. They've pulled your police records from San Francisco, so now you're a thief with priors.' Malone sounded like a lawyer. 'I've managed to secure a deal for you, but it's non-negotiable.'
Daniel listened intently.
'You can either go to court and do your time, or I can extend a loan to you; this loan will be used to pay the store for the missing software. We'll find you a job to pay the loan back to me — with interest. One last thing, and this is a biggie, you'll have to live under my supervision — a sort of house arrest — for one year.'
Daniel only had one question. 'Why are you doing this?'
'Let's just say I believe in second chances.'
The reality was Malone liked having the kid around, and the sense of responsibility filled a void in his life. And stopped him drinking.
Daniel agreed immediately. Malone sorted out the arrangement with Logan, and everyone shook hands in a form of gentlemen's agreement.
Daniel had been in the cell for most of the day and was famished, so Malone decided to take him to the closest diner. They sat opposite each other in a booth, and Malone realized he really didn't know that much about the kid. They'd shared basic stories over the weeks they'd been working together, but now Malone felt he should dig deeper.
Deciding on the food was a simple mission. 'Two of your best and biggest burgers with everything on them, and a couple of Cokes!' Malone's voice boomed as though he was ordering caviar and vintage champagne and wanted everyone to know.
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