Pretties in Pink

13. Hallie

13

HALLIE

A string of curses slipped from Dan’s mouth as she shook her head in disbelief.

“A kid? There was another kid in the room? f**k, she’s gonna be traumatised for life.”

How could she not be? “A fifty-fifty chance of being kidnapped. She lived, and her friend died.”

“We don’t know for certain that Vonnie’s dead.”

“If an abducted child is going to be killed, then eighty-five percent of the time, it happens within the first five hours.”

“If a child is going to be killed.”

“Almost every child is killed within the first twenty-four hours.”

“Almost every child.”

“But there haven’t been any ransom demands. You really think Vonnie could still be alive?”

“Honestly?” Dan leaned back in her swivel chair. “It’s extremely unlikely. But in this job, you can’t afford to close your mind to any possibilities. Do that, and you might as well go join the Richmond PD. If it was up to them, Ethan would still be locked up in a supermax, and the man who nearly killed me would be out there trying to beat Samuel Little’s murder record. And if the cops in Kentucky had gotten their way, where would you be?”

“Okay, okay, point taken. But I don’t think Prestia’s as short-sighted as Duncan and his buddies.”

“Prestia this, Prestia that. The two of you seem quite pally.”

My blush told her what my silence didn’t. Why did my boss have to be a freaking detective?

“Oh, so you like him?”

“I… I… I’m mostly confused.”

“In what way?”

“Generally, I don’t like cops—the reasons are freaking obvious—so I shouldn’t like Prestia. And I definitely shouldn’t like Prestia in the middle of a kidnap investigation where we’re on rival teams.”

Dan just laughed. “You think that’s awkward? Try falling for the suspect in the middle of a murder investigation.”

I hadn’t worked for Blackwood at that point, but I’d heard the stories, and yes, Dan had done exactly that.

“Okay, you win. But what should I do?”

“Are you asking for company policy? Or my personal opinion?”

“Both.”

“Blackwood’s policy is ‘don’t screw up the case.’ My opinion…” Dan paused for a moment. “Sometimes you gotta follow your heart over your head. Just walk fuckin’ carefully.”

“But what if everything goes wrong? I don’t trust my own judgment when it comes to men.”

“I’d say it’s unlikely Detective Prestia’s gonna pin a murder on you.” Dan patted me on the shoulder. “He has Micah Ganaway for that. And if he tries to sell you like a side of beef, rest assured that me and Emmy’ll hunt him down and make a balloon animal out of his junk.”

“Thanks, I think.”

“You’re welcome. Now, ready to go ask questions?”

Not really. “Bring it on.”

We’d split the area surrounding the Feinstein house and Rybridge Fields into four, and I couldn’t lie—our expectations were low. Usually in an investigation like this one, we could play on the heartstrings of potential witnesses by explaining that we wanted to catch a killer. But as far as the general public was concerned, the Richmond PD already had the man who’d taken Vonnie in custody, so why would we still be looking? And if we told the truth—that we were working as part of Micah Ganaway’s defence team—the chances of cooperation fell even lower.

We’d tried our best to level the playing field by including Knox and Kellan on the team. True, Knox didn’t generally work on investigations, but there were a lot of bored housewives in these parts, and he could charm their panties off. And Kellan had a quiet, confident manner that made you spill your secrets before you even realised what you were saying.

By lunchtime, we’d struck out fifty times over, and none of us had hit even a crumb of pay dirt. Most people flat-out refused to speak with us, and those that were willing to talk hadn’t provided any useful information. Was Prestia at the detention centre right now? What was Micah saying?

I spotted a gardener working beside the gates of the next mansion and conjured up a smile. Prestia had promised to call. I just had to be patient.

Trust went both ways.

“Excuse me, do you have a moment to help?”

The gardener looked up, his hands covered in dirt. “You’re lost?”

Were we talking physically or metaphorically?

“I’m actually a private investigator engaged to assist in the search for Vonnie Feinstein.” It wasn’t a lie. We were looking for the little girl. “She disappeared on Saturday night three weeks ago, and I was just wondering if you saw anything around that time.”

“What do you mean by ‘anything’?”

That was always hard to define. And we never asked for “anything suspicious” because any little piece of information could be significant, no matter how innocent it seemed, especially when looked at as part of the bigger picture.

“Were you in the area on that Friday? Or in the days preceding?”

“It was my daughter’s birthday on the Thursday, and she wanted to go to Chuck E. Cheese with her friends. I took the Friday off to recover.”

“What about before that?”

“I was here Monday through Wednesday, but I was working around the back. Don’t recall seeing anything out of the ordinary when I was driving through either, and the week before, I was over in Wakefield.”

“Well, thank you anyway. Do you know if anyone else is home today?”

“The Bradshaws are on vacation, and Consuela has the week off. Did the Feinsteins hire you?”

That question was the kiss of death, but what did it matter if I answered now?

“No, we’re working on behalf of the current suspect.”

Rather than offering the usual withering glare, the gardener just shrugged. “Figures.”

Now I was curious. “Why do you say that?”

“Not like them to spend extra money when the cops are working for free.”

“You know the Feinsteins?”

“Used to work for them a day a week.”

“Why’d you quit?”

“Didn’t quit. Got let go. Delia Feinstein and me, we had a difference of opinion over whether it was possible to grow canna lilies in the winter. You want a tip? It isn’t. But the new guy, he planted them—saw them as I was passing—and they all died after the first frost. Guess he got let go too.”

“Thanks for the info.” I held back a smile. A disgruntled ex-employee was the perfect person to dish the dirt. “As far as I know, the Feinsteins haven’t hired an investigator of their own. You think they’re penny-pinchers?”

“I think they have the wrong priorities. They’ll spend thousands on a new cabana for the swimming pool, but a few bucks to take their kid to the petting zoo? No way. And they wouldn’t be caught dead at Chuck E. Cheese.”

“They focus on appearances?”

“Yeah. Don’t know why they even had the kid. They seemed to regard her as more of a nuisance than anything else. Always figured it was a ‘keeping up with the Joneses’ thing. All Delia’s friends had kids, and she didn’t want to get left out.”

“She couldn’t just have bought a puppy?”

“She did buy a puppy. Sold it again after it ate her favourite pair of shoes.”

“How do you know that?”

Nobody else had mentioned issues with the Feinsteins’ behaviour, including Prestia. Was the gardener merely bitter and trying to cause trouble? Or was there a grain of truth in his story?

“Rosalia told me. Their maid. But I doubt she’ll say the same to you because she can’t afford to lose that job. You want to see the real Delia Feinstein? Find the people she fell out with or fired.”

“What about her husband?”

“Stu? Never saw much of him. But if I’d married that woman, I’d have spent most of my life at the office too.”

“You think they could have harmed their own daughter?”

“Harmed her? Not on purpose. When I heard the kid was missing, I figured Delia had accidentally left her at the mall or someplace, but now they’re saying she got taken. Watched Delia on the TV last night. All those crocodile tears. She cried more after someone scratched her fancy new BMW in a store parking lot. Felt damn sorry for that girl, having those two for parents.”

If what the gardener said was true, then I felt sorry for Vonnie too. I knew what it was like to grow up with parents who didn’t care. Well, parent. My father had walked out before I was even born.

“I really appreciate you telling me this.” Even if it fell into the “interesting” rather than “useful” category. “If I have more questions, is there a number I can reach you on?”

“Got a card somewhere… Here you go.”

Garry’s Landscaping Services, no job too big or too small. Water features a specialty. I handed over a card in return and got a smile.

“Halina Chastain. Pretty name for a pretty girl. If you ever need any yard work done, give me a call.”

“I live in an apartment, but if I ever get a house… I don’t suppose you know who planted the canna lilies, do you?”

Could it have been MowTown Lawn Care?

“Can’t help you there, I’m afraid.” Garry turned back to his digging. “Good luck with the hunt.”

I met Dan and Knox in a ritzy little café not too far from Nick’s place. Kellan said he’d join us once he’d finished the next cluster of houses. A group of women by the window looked down their noses at Dan’s outfit, even though she’d reined in her wilder side with jeans and a leather jacket today, but the irony was, she was probably wealthier than all of them put together. Plus she was practically married to a world-famous music producer. I wasn’t jealous—she’d earned every cent of her money and every second of her happiness—but I couldn’t help wishing I could find my own little slice of joy someday.

I stole one of Knox’s fries while I waited for my panini to arrive, and dished Garry’s dirt on the Feinsteins.

“But I’m not sure what it means, if anything. That Delia Feinstein’s been crying for more sympathy than she deserves? We know a stranger took Vonnie.”

Knox pointed his fork at me. “But was it a stranger to Vonnie or a stranger to the kid witness? The Feinsteins were out, but what if they came back a few minutes early, and Stu Feinstein climbed through the window to make it look like a third party was involved? What shoe size does he take?”

“I’m not sure.”

“What’s the motive?” Dan asked.

Knox shrugged. “Beats me.”

I shook my head too. “From what Garry said, Stu just wasn’t interested in his daughter. Why would he risk prison to make her disappear? And where is she?”

“Okay, so it’s a stretch.”

“Although the yard-work angle’s worth following up on,” Dan said. “We know the Carmodys used a service, and maybe the Metgoods did too? They were financially comfortable. Dual income, one kid.”

“I’ll see if Prestia has a list of tradesmen who visited the Feinstein house.”

“When are you seeing him again?”

“Tomorrow evening.” Knox started humming the “Wedding March,” and I threw a wadded-up napkin at him. “I don’t see you making personal sacrifices for the good of the case.”

“Is that what women call dates now?” he asked, eyes twinkling. “‘Sacrifices’?”

“Screw you.”

“Any time, baby.” He leaned in closer. “How about this? When we find the motherfucker who took Vonnie, I’ll make a personal sacrifice by defenestrating him.”

“De-what?”

“Throwing him out of a window,” Dan supplied, then nodded over my shoulder. “The server’s bringing your sandwich over.”

But before the girl could put down the plate, Dan’s phone rang, and when she answered, I knew from her satisfied smile that we had something good. My throat went dry, and I barely even noticed when Knox grabbed a handful of my potato chips.

“What happened?” I asked the instant Dan hung up.

“Kellan’s on his way—he found our mystery woman.”