He shook his head. “Doubtful. She left her purse behind, her car keys, driver’s license, everything. Even her glasses, and according to family members she couldn’t see to drive without them.”
Detective Ramirez put the photographs back in the envelope and took out a notepad. I sat down on the couch next to him and pulled out my cigarettes.
“You mind if I smoke?” I asked.
He grinned. “It’s your house, Mr. Senft. Mind if I join you?”
I chuckled. “Feel free. Ashtray is to your right. And call me Adam.”
We both lit up. I noticed he was smoking nonfiltered. Hard-core.
“So,” I said as the nicotine rushed through my bloodstream, “if she’s missing too, then that means that Paul is innocent, right?”
“Why is that, Mr. Senft?”
“Adam.”
He nodded. “I’m sorry. Adam.”
“Well,” I explained, “it’s got to be somebody else. I mean, two women missing in less than twenty-four hours? And Paul was in the hospital last night, according to the news.”
“Then you don’t believe Mr. Legerski had anything to do with his wife’s disappearance?”
“No, I don’t. You’ve got to know Paul. He wouldn’t do something like that. Earlier you said he was missing. Have you talked to him at all?”
Detective Ramirez sighed. “Only an initial interview, while he was being treated. He was cooperative at the time. But Mr. Legerski checked himself out of the hospital late last night. We’d identified him as a person of interest, but no charges have been filed, so he was free to go. At this time we’re unsure of his present location.”
“The news didn’t say anything about that this morning, either.”
“Nevertheless, it appears that he’s gone.” He tapped his cigarette in the ashtray. “Which brings me to my next question. Have you had any contact with Mr. Legerski in the last twelve hours? Or do you know anybody else who may have spoken with him? Your other neighbors, perhaps?”
“No, not at all.”
“Do you know if the Legerskis were having any marital or financial problems?”
“I don’t think so. Paul seemed pretty happy. He had a good job. Just bought a boat to take down to the Chesapeake Bay, so I don’t think they were having trouble with money. But we never really talked about our incomes.”
He wrote something down in his notepad. “What did you and Mr. Legerski talk about?”
I shrugged. “Music, mostly. Fishing. Sports. Stuff like that.”
“Do you know if Mr. Legerski was having an affair, possibly?”
“No. I told you, he seemed very happy. He loved his wife.”
But as Merle had pointed out, what did I really know about their relationship? Perhaps their sex life was unsatisfying, like Tara’s and mine. Maybe Paul had been seeing someone else, and Shannon had found out about it. Immediately I felt guilty for thinking like that, in regards to both my wife and our missing neighbors. I stood up and began to pace around the living room floor.
Detective Ramirez kept scribbling. “And you haven’t seen or spoken with him today?”
“Nope. Maybe he went looking for Shannon?”
“Perhaps.”
“Because I could see him doing that, you know? Especially if he thinks you guys are focusing on him and meanwhile his wife is still out there.”
“Are you nervous?”
“Huh?”
“You’re pacing. I thought you might be nervous.”
“No,” I said, more forcibly than I’d intended. “I’m just shocked, is all.”
“Okay.” He smiled again. “That’s totally understandable.” I sat back down.
“And I need to ask, can you account for your whereabouts last night and this morning, Mr. Senft?”
“M-me?” I was startled. He’d gone back to calling me Mr. Senft again, rather than Adam. “Look, am I a suspect or something?”
Detective Ramirez smiled. “Not at all. We’re asking this of all the neighbors. It just helps us get a handle on things. You might have seen something that can aid us in our investigation and not even realize it.”
“Oh. You scared me for a second.”
He looked up at me expectantly, but said nothing. His pen hovered over the notepad.
“I was here last night,” I told him. “My wife, Tara, can vouch for that. We stayed home all evening. And my next-door neighbor, Cliff Swanson, he saw me too.”
He nodded. “Very good. And this morning?”
“Tara went to work. I was here.”
“Where does your wife work?”
“Baltimore.” I gave him the name of the company and told him what she did for a living.
He paused in his writing. “Huh.”
“Something wrong?” I asked.
“Well, please don’t take offense. I just assumed authors made a lot of money. Enough that their spouses didn’t have to work.”
“That’s okay. Lots of folks think that way. I just wish it were true. For every best seller you see in the front racks of the store, there’s a bunch more of us on the shelves making the literary equivalent of minimum wage.”
Big Steve paced in my office. His nails clicked on the hardwood floor.
Detective Ramirez resumed his questions. “And after she went to work? What did you do?”
“I took my dog for awalk, just like we do every morning.”
He scribbled in his pad. “And where did you walk?”
I pointed to the back of the house. “Across the alley and over into the field next to the park.”
He frowned. “I didn’t think they allowed pets in the park.”
My cheeks flushed. “They don’t. We just skirt around the edge of it. We used to walk in the woods down behind the park, but we don’t go in there anymore.”
“I see. And why is that?”
“It’s…well, to tell the truth, Big Steve gets spooked by the forest. You know, with all the animals and stuff. He’s afraid of the squirrels. Like I told you, his bark is worse than his bite.”
“Mm-hmm. Did you see anybody during your walk?”
I thought of Shelly, whom we should have seen that morning, but hadn’t.
“No.”
Detective Ramirez stubbed his cigarette butt out in the ashtray. “What time did you get back from your walk?”
“Around seven thirty, maybe seven forty-five. We didn’t stay out long because of all the reporters.”
He grimaced. “Can’t blame you there.”
“And then I wrote until just now, when you came by.”
“Oh, yeah?” He sounded genuinely interested. “New book?”
I nodded.
“What’s it about?”
“I’m not sure yet. It deals with the Civil War. To be honest, I don’t like to talk about the plots very much until I have them fleshed out.”
“Trade secrets, huh?”
“Something like that.”
His face fell, and I could see that he was disappointed.
Well, that’s what you get for freaking me out,
I thought.
He closed the notebook and slipped it back into the envelope. “Well, again, I’m very sorry for disturbing you.”
“Don’t sweat it. I’m happy to do whatever I can if it will help.”
He stood up. “If you’re serious about that, we’re organizing civilian search teams later this afternoon to help supplement our own people. The fire department is running the show, since it’s still considered search and rescue at this point. But we’ll be assisting, along with your local township police and other agencies. We’re asking residents to meet at the firehouse at two o’clock if they’d like to volunteer to help search. Would you be interested?”
“Absolutely,” I said. “I’d be happy to help.”
“Well, then, maybe I’ll see you there.”
“Sounds good.”
We shook hands once more as I walked him to the door, and he told me again how much he’d liked
Heart of the Matter
. Then he reached into his pocket and handed me a business card with his contact information. He asked me to call him if I thought of anything else that might help with the investigation, no matter how trivial or seemingly unimportant. I promised that I would. Closing the door behind him, I watched through the curtains as he banged on Cliff’s and Cory’s apartment doors. When he got no answer he left business cards in each of their screen doors, and then moved on to Merle’s house.
Big Steve crept out from under the desk and sniffed all around the carpet and the couch where the detective had been sitting. Satisfied, he looked at me and wagged his tail.
“You’re so brave,” I told him. “What a brave, brave boy you are. What a vicious guard dog. He’s lucky you didn’t chew his leg off.”
His tail wagged harder, and he offered me his paw. I shook it, noticing that his nails were getting long again and needed trimming. I scratched behind his ears, and Big Steve leaned into my hand and closed his eyes, shuddering with sheer bliss.
After I’d cut his toenails and played with him some more, I walked down to the gas station and bought two packs of cigarettes from Leslie. The disappearances were the talk of the town, and she’d heard every customer’s theory that morning, everything from a serial killer to alien abduction. Leslie was convinced that Paul had killed Shannon and was on the run, and that Antonietta Wallace’s disappearance wasn’t related. Leslie thought that maybe she’d just left her husband.
I told her I wasn’t convinced that Paul had done it, and advised her to be careful. She shrugged it off and told me I’d written too many mysteries.
“You’re beginning to sound like a character in one of your books, Adam.”
Then she changed the subject, chattering with excitement about her big date that night.
“Well,” I cautioned protectively, “don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
She grinned. “What fun is that?”
“I’m serious. Be careful.”
Leslie promised that she would.
Arriving back home, I decided to see if Detective Ramirez had paid a visit to Dale. He had, and while Dale and I discussed it in the backyard, Merle came out of his house and joined us.
“What’s up, Merle?” I said.
“Not much,” he answered. “That detective come by and visit you guys?”
Dale and I nodded.
“He stopped by my place, too,” Merle told us. “Tried to sell him some antiques. Cheap bastard.”
We laughed, and I imagined Merle pushing the hard sell on Detective Ramirez, probably for an ugly old lamp or an ancient Coke bottle.
“I see the scavengers are still here,” Merle said, pointing at the media’s encampment. “I was hoping they’d go chase another ambulance for a while.”
“Slow news day,” I said. “This is where all the action is.”
“They’ll probably want to get footage of the search,” Dale said. “Either of you going to volunteer for that?”
“I am,” I said.
“Me too,” Merle agreed. “Got nothing better to do. Haven’t had a single customer all day.”
“How about you, Dale?” I asked.
“I told him I’d help. Not sure how much good I’ll be. Can’t go more than a few hundred yards without getting winded, it seems. But I’m willing to give it a shot. It’s the right thing to do.”
Merle watched the reporters. “Cliff and Cory are gonna be pissed about missing all the fun when they get home from work tonight.”
A police car crawled down the alley and had to turn on its siren to get the reporters out of the way.
“So, what do you guys think is going on?” I asked them. “I mean really going on, not what the cops and the reporters are feeding us.”
“Paul’s a serial killer,” Merle said. “That’s got to be it. Two women missing, and then he goes missing too?”
I groaned. “Oh, come on! Are you serious?”
He winked. “Serious as a heart attack.”
“That doesn’t mean he’s a serial killer,” I said. “We don’t even know if he’s involved.”
Merle crossed his arms. “The detective sure as hell seemed to think he was.”
I paused. “He told you that?”
“No.” Merle shuffled his feet. “Not exactly. But you could read it in his actions. It’s what they don’t say that gives them away, you know? Paul did it. Watch and see. He’s on the run right now. Bet you he shows up on
America’s Most Wanted
before the end of the month, if they don’t catch him before then.”
My cheeks flushed with anger. “That’s bullshit.”
“Why?”
“Just because he’s married to Shannon doesn’t mean he’s involved. Yes, I agree it doesn’t look good—him disappearing. But that still doesn’t make him guilty.”
“Sounds pretty reasonable to me,” Merle said.
“If that’s so, then why not Antonietta Wallace’s husband? After all, she’s missing too. Why don’t you point the finger at him?”
Merle frowned. “Walt? There’s no way he’s involved in this mess. I know him. He wouldn’t do something like that.”
“And I know Paul. Neither would he.”
Dale rubbed his forehead. “Both of you, shut up. You’re giving me a headache.”
Merle turned to me, changing the subject. “So how’s your girlfriend?”
“My girlfriend?”
“Yeah. Shelly Carpenter. Haven’t seen her run by the past two days. Is she avoiding you or something?”
“She’s not my girlfriend.” I sighed. “And I haven’t seen her either.”
“Maybe she’s missing,” Dale suggested. “Like the other women.”
Merle and I both stared at him.
“Think about it,” Dale said. “Two women supposedly vanish from their homes two nights in a row. It’s been two days since you’ve seen Shelly. Maybe she’s gone, too. She could have been the first.”
Merle punched his palm with his fist. “Son of a bitch! He’s right. I never even thought of that.”
“No.” I shook my head. “She’s not.”
“So you have seen her then?” Merle asked.
“I saw her Monday morning,” I admitted. “When I was walking Big Steve through the forest.”
Dale pulled out a red handkerchief and blew his nose. “Sorry. These damn spring allergies.”
“Shelly was in the woods?” Merle asked.
“Yeah. And…she wasn’t alone. I saw her with…” I paused, unsure how to continue.
Merle grew impatient. “With who?”
“Let’s sit down,” I suggested, pointing to the patio chairs. “Anybody else want a beer?”
“Damn”—Merle snorted—“this must be one hell of a story.”
“It’s a little early to start drinking, isn’t it?” Dale asked.
“I need a beer. Do you guys want one or not?”
Dale shook his head. “I’ll pass.”
“I’ll take one,” Merle said, “if you’re gonna twist my arm.”
I grabbed two beers from the fridge, hooked Big Steve up to his leash, and came back outside. Dale and Merle were seated at the table, watching the reporters and the cops mill about on the Legerskis’ lawn. After handing Merle a beer I tied the dog to his outdoor leash and took a seat. Big Steve wagged his tail at Merle and Dale, and they tried to coax him over close enough to pet him. He’d get within inches of their outstretched fingers and then dart away.