by Nic Saint
“Oh, jeez,” said Chase. “Thank, Joaquin. You’re a lifesaver.”
“I thought you might need that.” He glanced back. “I didn’t want to ask in there, but have you found out more about what happened to Angel?”
“No, I’m afraid we haven’t,” said the cop as he tucked away his trusty notebook.
“I heard you found her phone in a pond in Bickersfield woods?”
So much for keeping certain elements of the investigation confidential.
“Yeah, well, we’re not sure how it got there,” said Chase reluctantly. He’s one of those cops who like to play their cards close to their vest, and not share too much information with the general public.
“If it helps,” Joaquin continued, “when Angel was at the rectory yesterday, she told me that even though she might have used some harsh words with Francis, she only meant half of them.”
“You talked to Angel? asked Chase, interested.
“Well, when she left she confessed that she only said what she said because she feels that Francis is cutting her mother a raw deal, and she wants him to treat her more fairly. She also doesn’t think her mom would quit her job with Francis. ‘Mom is so attached to that stupid job that it makes me want to scream.’ Those were her exact words.”
“What was her frame of mind?” asked Odelia, leaning over Chase to address the handsome sexton.
“She looked a little frustrated. As if she knew her arguments wouldn’t make much of a difference.”
“Francis thinks she might have run away from home,” said Chase. “Do you think that’s feasible?”
“It certainly wouldn’t be out of character for Angel to pull a stunt like that,” said Joaquin, nodding. “She loves her mom, and she told me she’s fed up that she’s always working, and never home when Angel needs her.”
“Would you happen to know which friend she might be staying with?” asked Odelia.
“Well…” Joaquin thought for a moment. “You might want to try Mariko Jarmusch. She and Angel used to be best friends when they were little. Marigold once told me Mariko and Angel used to spend hours at the rectory, playing hide and seek. It used to drive Marigold crazy. I don’t know if they’re still friends, but maybe it’s worth a shot?”
“Where can we find this Mariko?”
“She works at Dough Knot Bakery on Norfolk Street. That’s how I know—I’m a regular customer there,” he explained with a smile. “Big fan of their chocolate croissants—one of my many vices.”
“Thanks, Joaquin,” said Chase. “You’ve been a big help.”
“We all love that girl, Detective. I’d do anything to see her home safe and sound.” He gave the car door a quick rap with his knuckles, then returned to the rectory with athletic step.
Chase and Odelia shared a look. “I could do with a nice éclair for dessert,” said Chase, patting his stomach. “You?”
“I’ll see if they’ve got French bread,” said Odelia. “Dad loves some French bread with his soup.”
And so off to the bakery we went.
24
Dough Knot Bakery is one of those places where not only can you buy bread and pastry galore, but you can also consume it on the spot, as they have a tearoom attached to the main shoppe. But since it was almost time to go home and have dinner, Odelia and Chase decided to forgo this opportunity to top up their blood sugar, and instead got straight to the point. This they did by asking the girl at the counter if she was Mariko Jarmusch, Angel’s childhood friend. The girl answered in the affirmative, and stood looking at the cop and his civilian consultant with wide-eyed anticipation. A lot of people, when they have their first brush with the law, display this same response: immediately images of being arrested flash before their mind’s eye, even though they’re absolutely sure they haven’t done anything wrong.
“We just want to ask you a couple of questions,” Chase proceeded to put the girl at ease.
So she bellowed, “Frank! Can you take over for a minute!”
And when Frank, who turned out to be a pimple-faced youth of about twelve years old, arrived to take over Mariko’s duties as salesperson, she took us to a table located near the window, and Chase and Odelia launched into the interview.
“I don’t know if you’ve heard, but Angel Church is missing since last night,” Odelia introduced the theme, “and now we’re talking to all of her friends, hoping they can shed some light on where she might be.”
“I’m not a friend of Angel,” Mariko said curtly.
“Oh, but I thought…”
“We used to be friends, until she pulled a dirty trick on me.”
“Dirty trick?”
Mariko, who was a round-faced young woman with bright red hair, was chewing a piece of gum so vigorously I thought it must have personally insulted her. “She stole my boyfriend. Me and Cody Szulc had been going steady for six weeks—coincidentally the longest relationship of my life—and Angel knew I was crazy about that boy, but still she decided to hook up with him after cheerleader practice. And then she had the gall to pretend nothing happened, when it was Cody himself who told me she’d allowed him to go to second base behind the bleachers. So no, Detective. Angel Church is not my friend, and frankly I don’t care what happens to her.”
“When did this thing with Angel and Cody happen?” asked Odelia, suppressing a smile.
“Two years ago.”
“So you would have been, what, sixteen?”
“Seventeen!” said Mariko, her eyes blazing. Clearly the trauma hadn’t yet healed.
“And you haven’t talked to her since?”
“I told her exactly what I thought of her, and that’s the last time we talked.”
“So you don’t know where Angel could be?”
“No, I don’t. Though actually, yeah. She’s probably with that sleazy boyfriend of hers. Matteo Drews.”
“Matteo Drews?” asked Chase, immediately jotting down the name.
“Yeah, total sleazeball.”
“You know this Matteo, do you?”
“Oh, sure. He used to have the hots for me, but I wouldn’t let a guy like that anywhere near me. Of course Angel isn’t so picky. That slut would let any idiot feel her up.”
“Is that how you would characterize Angel?” asked Odelia. “As a slut?”
“Absolutely. That sneaky slut stole my boyfriend, and she didn’t even have the decency to own up to it, or apologize.”
“And did she steal Matteo from someone, too?” asked Chase, trying to keep track.
Mariko shrugged. “I heard that Carmel had the hots for the guy. Don’t ask me why.”
“That would be Carmel…”
“Carmel Kraft. Angel’s new bestie. The weird thing is that Matteo doesn’t even like girls. Everybody knows he’s into boys. So when Angel and him hooked up it took us all by surprise.”
“Oh, so you all still meet, socially I mean?”
She gave Chase a look as if figuring he wasn’t too smart for a cop. “Hampton Cove is a small town, Detective. So it’s hard not to meet people, even a slut like Angel Church.”
“Were you one of the girls she hung out with last night?”
“Nope. No way. Though I did see them as I left the Cocky Cauldron. I ignored her, of course, and she ignored me. We’re not on speaking terms.”
“Could you give us the names of some of her friends?”
Mariko glanced up at the ceiling. “Carmel Kraft, Amy Ollermann, Beatrice Felag, Jody Huix. Oh, and Bridget Elfman.” She frowned. “Yeah, I think that’s it. Except Carmel’s boyfriend Wesley Trygar was also with them. Total creep, Wesley.”
“She seems to have a strong opinion on things, Max,” Dooley commented.
“Yeah, she’s very outspoken,” I agreed.
“So where can we find some of these people?” asked Odelia.
“Try McDonald’s. Carmel works the evening shift, and so does her boyfriend.”
And so we went from one food emporium to another. And since Odelia and
Chase were famished at this point, but wanted to see their investigation through, they decided to skip dinner, and grab a burger instead. It’s those kinds of sacrifices your true detective needs to make.
Frankly Dooley and I were also a little peckish, and a nice burger patty or chicken wing sounded just fine to me.
25
The McDonald’s in Hampton Cove is where our friend Big Mac likes to hang out. His human runs that particular restaurant, and Big Mac enjoys all the perks—and he has the size to prove it.
I was really hoping to run into him, as it had been a while since we met the guy. Also, he might be able to shed some light on this missing person case.
“Do you think Big Mac will be there, Max?” asked Dooley now, clearly thinking along the same lines.
“I hope so,” I said. Talking to witnesses and such is all fine and dandy, but it doesn’t beat the kind of information you can pick up when talking to a fellow feline.
Chase parked his pickup in the McDonald’s parking lot, which is located just beyond the town limits, and he and Odelia got out. On the drive over, Odelia had called her mom to tell her she and Chase wouldn’t be able to make it home for dinner, and asked her if she needed to get her something from McDonald’s. Marge had ordered fries, but when Odelia asked her if she wanted mayonnaise with that, Marge had choked up. Odd.
“What was that about?” asked Chase as they walked up to the entrance, Dooley and me hot on their trail.
“I’m not sure,” Odelia confessed.
The place was pretty busy. It was the dinner hour, after all. And while Odelia went in search of Angel’s friend, and Chase scanned the menu, Dooley and I slipped out the back to look for Big Mac, who likes to hang out near the dumpsters.
As luck would have it, we immediately laid eyes on the voluminous orange cat.
“Hey, buddy,” I said as we snuck up on him from behind.
It was with a grin that we watched him jump about a foot in the air, then turn on us with a baleful look on his cherubic face. But when he saw it was us, his anger quickly dissipated, and he caroled, “Max! Dooley! Long time no see!”
“Hey, Big Mac,” I said.
“Have you eaten a lot of Big Macs lately, Big Mac?” Dooley quipped.
“You better believe it,” said the large cat. He took a seat next to the dumpster. “Though they seem to have changed the recipe. Something tastes off lately—maybe it’s the topping.” He pointed to a half-eaten hamburger lying next to him, which he’d clearly been sampling when we caught up with him.
“Maybe you should eat them fresh,” I told the cat. “Not drag them out of a dumpster.”
“What can I tell you? I like to live dangerously,” said Big Mac with a Cheshire grin.
“That, you do.”
“Anyway, I’m thinking about changing my name. Lately I’m more partial to the Quarter Pounder with Cheese Bacon, so maybe you should call me that from now on.”
“That’s a mouthful,” I said.
“You bet it is. Takes more than one mouthful to chow down one of those bad boys.” He gestured to the remnants of just such a specimen. It looked a little yucky, smeared as it was with ketchup and other condiments. In fact it looked as if a child had used it for fingerpainting practice rather than as part of its Happy Meal. “Wanna have a bite?”
“Thanks, but I’ve just eaten,” I said. At the sight of that burger, my stomach had miraculously stopped rumbling, deciding to skip a meal if it looked like that. “So is your human still running the restaurant?” I asked as we watched one of the servers step out for a smoke.
“Absolutely. Place is still as busy as ever. So what brings you guys out here?”
“An investigation.”
“Not another murder investigation.” Last time we met, we’d investigated the murder of a bestselling writer, and Big Mac had been of great assistance describing the killer.
“No, a missing girl this time,” I said. “She went out with some friends last night, and now she’s missing.”
“And one of her friends works here,” Dooley explained.
“Carmel Kraft.”
“Oh, yeah, I know Carmel. She’s so sweet. Always gives me the best stuff.”
“So let me get this straight,” I said, deciding to clear up a point. “Your human feeds you, then you dig through these dumpsters every night, and the people who work for your human also feed you?”
The big cat gave us a big smile. “I know, right? I’m one lucky cat. Now talk to me about this investigation. Color me interested.”
“Okay, so the name of the missing girl is Angel Church. She was last seen leaving a club in downtown Hampton Cove. And one of the girls who was with her was Carmel.”
Big Mac was nodding. “I think I know the girl you’re referring to. Pretty little blond thing? She was in here last night.”
“Angel was in here last night?”
“Oh, sure. She’s in here all the time, her and her friends. Since Carmel works here, they’ve been coming here a lot.”
“But Carmel wasn’t even working last night.”
“No, see, this is how it goes: they all meet up here, have dinner, then go out. Then they drop by again around three or four o’clock in the morning, when they have another late-night snack.” He shook his head. “How these girls manage to stay so thin is beyond me.”
“So did they adhere to the same schedule last night?” I asked.
“Oh, absolutely. Though I have to admit I didn’t see Angel.”
“You didn’t?”
“I saw her friends, but not her. Which is weird, because she’s the biggest trencherwoman of them all. That girl loves to eat, Max. A pleasure to watch.”
“Huh. Interesting.”
“Do you believe in aliens, Big Mac?” asked Dooley now.
“Oh, absolutely,” said the big cat. “Why?”
“Well, I happen to think Angel was abducted by aliens, see, because two friends of ours followed her trail from Hampton Cove to the woods, and the trail stopped dead in the middle of the woods, right next to a pond. And a diver who dredged the pond only found her phone.”
“Oh,” said Big Mac, eyes wide. “And so you think…”
“I’m almost one hundred percent sure that she was…”
“… beamed up!”
“Exactly!” said Dooley, glad that he’d finally found a friend who subscribed to his outlandish theory.
“I think you might be onto something, Dooley. Those aliens beam innocent people up all the time.”
“I don’t get it,” I said. “Why only humans? Why don’t they beam up cats and dogs? Or livestock?”
“Max is right,” said Dooley, nodding. “Why the discrimination? We have just as much right to be beamed up as the next human.”
“Oh, but they do beam up pets and livestock,” said Big Mac, who seemed to know a lot about this stuff. “In fact they beam us up all the time. Lampposts all across town are plastered with flyers of missing cats and dogs—and if you gave me a cheeseburger every time a complaint is filed about a missing cow or sheep…”
“I don’t believe this,” I muttered. Now I had two delusional felines to contend with.
“I just hope they won’t beam me up,” said Dooley, directing a worried glance at the sky. “I don’t think I’d enjoy being probed. I’m very ticklish, you see.”
“You know what you should do?” said Big Mac. “You need to make sure you gain weight, Dooley. A lot of weight.”
“And why is that, Big Mac?”
“Because those aliens, they only beam up the young and healthy. A fat cat like me doesn’t stand a chance. They’re not interested!”
“But why?”
“Because those aliens are trying to build a master race, see, and they can only build their master race by abducting the best and the brightest. So your sports jocks, your fitness freaks and your mathletes. Those are the ones they’re interested in. So the unhealthier you are…”
“Big Mac, you’re a genius!”<
br />
“So get yourself fat and unhealthy, and you’re safe.”
“Are you sure?”
“Hey,” said Big Mac, slapping his big belly. “It’s worked for me so far. Haven’t been abducted yet.”
“If you were abducted,” I said, deciding to strike the discordant note before these two got carried away, “you wouldn’t remember. Because they wipe your memory when they’re done with their ‘alien probe.’”
Both cats stared at me. “You mean we could have been abducted already, and we wouldn’t know!” Dooley cried.
“There’s one way to know,” said Big Mac, who was fast outing himself as an alien believer. “They leave a small mark.”
“A mark?” asked Dooley, wide-eyed.
“Right behind your ear. If there’s the single mark, you’ve been abducted once. Two marks, and you’ve had the dubious pleasure of their company twice, and so on and so forth.”
“Can you check my ear, Max?”
“Oh, Dooley,” I said with an eyeroll.
“Here, I’ll do it,” said Big Mac. “Not all cats are believers, and I have the distinct impression that our friend Max here is not one of us.” He quickly checked Dooley’s left ear, then his right ear, but shook his head. “Nothing. You’re clear.”
“How about you, Big Mac? Do you want me to check?”
“Go ahead. But I know I’ve never been beamed up. They can fool other cats, but not me.”
“Sure, Big Mac,” I said resignedly. “Whatever you say.”
Dooley was busy inspecting our friend’s ears, and suddenly froze.
“What is it?” asked Big Mac, a note of concern in his voice. “What do you see?”
“Big Mac!” said Dooley in hushed tones.
“What? What?!”
“Max, come and take a look,” said my friend, and reluctantly I did as instructed.
“That’s not a mark, Dooley,” I said. “That’s a birthmark.”
“It’s round.”
“So it’s a freckle.”
“A freckle? Oh, boy,” said Big Mac.
“What does it mean, Big Mac?” asked Dooley in hushed tones.
“I’m afraid to tell you, Dooley.”
