Pretties in Pink

14. Hallie

14

HALLIE

Kellan had hit the motherlode in a small enclave of luxury homes a quarter-mile north of the Feinstein house. First, he’d been in the right place at the right time to assist Dorothy Ziegler, a wealthy widow who’d twisted her ankle while she was out for her morning constitutional. Kellan had helped her home, then partaken of tea and dainty cakes served by the maid while they waited for Dorothy’s personal physician to arrive.

And Dorothy Ziegler didn’t think much of the Feinsteins at all.

“They’re part of the nouveau riche, according to her,” Kellan told us. “But they barely qualify for the ‘riche’ part. And Delia Feinstein doesn’t understand the difference between shiny baubles and class. Dorothy said she’s a needy sort, always wants to be the centre of attention.”

“Did Dorothy know anything about Delia’s relationship with her daughter?” Dan asked.

“Dorothy didn’t even know the Feinsteins had a daughter until she saw the news.”

I didn’t much like the picture we were building up. “It’s beginning to sound as if Vonnie was an inconvenience to her parents. Why didn’t they just hire a nanny if they didn’t want to spend time with her?”

As usual, Dan had the answer. “Dorothy was right about the lack of ‘riche.’ Mack’s been looking into the Feinsteins’ finances, and they’re in debt up to their eyeballs.”

“Could it be like the Carmody case? Are we back to the parents again?”

Did they somehow engineer Vonnie’s disappearance? The thought made me shudder. The idea had sounded so farfetched when Knox suggested it, but who else had a motive? True stranger abductions were rare. But then there was Donna Metgood, and when I’d watched a recording of her parents’ press conference, her mom’s tears had seemed genuine. Her father had been more stoic, but he had a clear alibi for his daughter’s disappearance. Norman Metgood had worked as an area manager for a chain of restaurants, and on that Friday night, he’d been dealing with a water leak at the branch in Lewisburg.

Dan shrugged. “Think of the case as a recipe. Right now, we’ve got a bunch of ingredients but no clear idea what we’re making. Although nothing we’ve found so far suggests Micah Ganaway was involved, does it? Knox, have you spoken to Calvin recently?”

“Early this morning. I told him to hang in there and that we’re doing everything we can.”

Kellan took a sip of his Pepsi. “I doubt the cops are getting much further than we are, especially if they’re fixated on the wrong suspect. Dorothy said she hasn’t returned their call because she once met Chief Garland and he was—I quote—a slimy son of a b***h. I quite liked the old gal. Plus she offered to call around her friends and get back to me if they had any other snippets of information.”

“What did she say about the woman with the dog?” I asked.

“Nothing.” Kellan grimaced. “After I’d drunk tea with Dorothy, I made the mistake of knocking on Berta Michaelson’s door.”

When he mentioned the name, Dan nearly choked on her milkshake. “The Grand High Cougar of Glen Allen? I didn’t realise she’d moved to Rybridge.”

“I thought she was gonna rip my shirt off. We should’ve sent Knox in with body armour.”

“She’d only have seen that as a challenge. What did she have to say?”

“Apart from inviting me to go skinny-dipping in her pool?”

Knox winced. “Tough draw, buddy.”

“That was only the half of it. She’s got a bunch of yappy little dogs that kept running around my feet, and I thought her perfume was gonna set off an asthma attack. Next time, I want hazard pay.”

“I owe you a beer.”

“You owe me at least a six-pack.”

“Deal. Berta was the one who identified the mystery woman?”

“Yeah. She’s Berta’s dog trainer, and judging by the teeth marks in my ankle, I’d say she’s not a particularly good one. But I have an address—she lives over in Montrose. Should I pay her a visit?”

Dan shook her head. “When you’re having so much success here? No, I’ll go with Hallie. But if you want to purchase your own set of body armour, I’ll sign off on the expense.”

“Gee, thanks.”

But Kellan was smiling—he knew we were making progress. I only hoped it would be enough to put the right man behind bars.

Linda Hurst lived in a modest duplex in an average part of town. Her yard was small but neat, and most of the driveway was taken up by a small van with tinted rear windows. A sign painted on the side told us we were in the right place. Paw & Order Dog Training School.

When I knocked on the door, a cacophony of barking sounded on the other side, but in an instant, the dogs fell silent as if on command. A moment later, a petite brunette cracked open the front door and peered out.

“Whatever you’re selling, I’m afraid I don’t want any.”

Dan did the talking. “We’re not selling anything.”

“Are you sure? Not even religion?”

“We’re actually private investigators.”

“Private investigators? Are you here about the missing trash cans? Because I have no idea where they’re going.”

“No, we’re here about the disappearance of Vonnie Feinstein. Do you have a spare moment?”

“Vonnie Feinstein? The little girl on the news? Because I definitely don’t know her.”

“But you were in Rybridge the day before she disappeared. Friday evening, three weeks ago.”

Now Linda looked puzzled. “Yes, I was there. I take Mrs. Juneau’s labradoodle to the park on Fridays. Loopy was so reactive to other dogs when I first started walking him, but he’s gotten much better. Now we just need to work on his recall, and— That’s not important, is it?”

“We’re interested in what you saw in the park that day.”

“But why? I thought the police already caught the man responsible?”

“There’s some uncertainty over whether they have the right person in custody, and Vonnie’s still missing. We’re doing our best to find her.”

“Oh, I see. Well, yes, of course, I’ll tell you everything I can remember, but I don’t recall seeing anything strange.”

“Do you want to talk out here, or would it be easier if we came in? I notice your neighbour is watching us.”

Dan had a sixth sense about these things. I glanced to the side in time to see the voile drapes at the bay window of the next house fall back into place.

Linda tutted. “She spends half her life nosing around. If anyone knows where those trash cans are going, it’s her, and yet she denies everything. Come in, come in. The pups don’t mind visitors.”

Linda had three big dogs—Dobermans? I thought they were Dobermans—and perhaps her training skills weren’t so bad after all. She told them to stay, and they did, watching attentively, then she dropped one hand and they sat down in perfect unison. Hmm. Did she work with parrots?

“Would you like a drink?”

Dan nodded. “I’ll never say no to coffee.”

Linda turned to me. “Coffee?”

“Uh, I only drink decaf.”

Dan snorted, but the tables were quickly turned when Linda said, “Really? Me too. In fact, that’s all I have.”

Since I was with a colleague, I’d risk sipping a drink, and five minutes later, we settled onto comfortable leather couches with steaming mugs. No stray hair, so I figured the dogs weren’t allowed on the furniture. They were starting to get a bit creepy now, just sitting there in silence, arranged in size order from small to large, staring at us with unblinking eyes. Dan showed Micah’s pictures of the park to Linda, but didn’t tell her who had taken them.

“You look as if you saw something interesting there. Can you remember what it was?”

“Oh, sure, sure. There was a loose dog, which there really shouldn’t have been because dogs are meant to be on leashes in Rybridge Fields, and it was running all over, doing as it pleased. There were other dogs around, and children too, and I remember thinking it was only a matter of time before somebody got hurt.”

“And did they?”

“Well, no, not that day, but it did scare a teenage girl walking a chihuahua. The poor little thing slipped its collar and raced right out of the park with the girl running after it.”

“Which direction did they go?”

“Toward the exit onto Willow Avenue.”

Which was the exit nearest to the Feinstein home. I leaned forward to point out the Feinsteins in Micah’s pictures.

“Did they leave before or after these people?”

“Sorry, but I just don’t know. Is that the girl who disappeared?”

“It is.”

“I don’t…” Linda reached out and touched the picture as if that might form a connection. “I don’t remember. When I’m out walking, I always pay more attention to dogs than people, but I guess I should change that, shouldn’t I? I mean, I didn’t even see the person with the camera. Is the girl dead? On the news, they say she’s missing, but it’s been weeks now.”

My head told me the answer was yes, but Dan was right—there was always hope. “Nobody can say for sure.”

“Her poor parents. I always feel safe when I’m walking Rocky, Ranger, and Royal…” She waved a hand toward the three statues on the other side of the room. “But Loopy Juneau’s such a friendly dog. Should I start carrying pepper spray?”

“That wouldn’t hurt.” Dan rummaged around in her oversized purse. “Here, take my spare.”

“Wow, thank you so much.”

“Don’t suppose you know the name of the girl with the chihuahua?”

Linda shook her head. “But I’ve seen her before, so I think she lives in the area. Want me to ask around?”

“We’d appreciate that.”

The more people on the lookout, the better. But this was yet another piece that might or might not have been part of the puzzle. Only time would tell.

“He was there.”

Prestia’s words sent a bolt of shock through me. He’d called after lunch as promised, but we’d ended up playing voicemail tennis all afternoon while I spoke with potential witnesses and he visited the science museum with his sister, niece, and nephew. Now I was home, and my feet were killing me. Pinchy had no sympathy whatsoever.

“Who was where?” I asked, just in case I’d misunderstood.

“Micah Ganaway was at the Carmody house.”

Yes, I’d always known that was a possibility, but I’d never truly believed it.

“Are you sure?”

“He admitted it. First, he said he wasn’t, claimed he didn’t remember going there, but then Duncan showed him a picture of the place and he recognised the pool.”

“Just like that?”

Detective Duncan had Micah in his sights, and Micah had handed him extra ammo?

“Surprised me too, and his lawyer. The lawyer tried to shut him up, but he said that firstly, he wasn’t a liar, and secondly, if he said he wasn’t there and it came out later that he was, he’d look even guiltier. Guess I can see his point.”

“Did he mention Mila?”

“Swore blind that he didn’t see her, let alone touch her, and he claims he only visited the house once or twice, covering for someone else. It wasn’t one of his regular jobs.”

“When did he go there? What dates?”

“He doesn’t recall.”

“So it could even have been after Mila’s abduction? And there’s still no proof he ever set foot on the Feinstein property, just that he was nearby. Do you have a list of people who did visit the Feinsteins?”

“You’re trying to create reasonable doubt?”

“At least fifty people went through the Carmody home in the two weeks before Mila disappeared. I have a list Blackwood compiled at the time when people’s memories were a lot fresher, and Micah’s name isn’t on it.”

“Fifty? Was it a home or Grand Central Station?”

“The Carmodys never lifted a finger for themselves.” With their wealth, they didn’t need to. I suppose that’s what surprised me the most about Emmy and Black—they had billions in the bank, but if a sink was blocked, one of them would still grab a plunger. “They hired people for everything. Landscapers, cleaners, a cook. A florist brought flowers every week, Mrs. Carmody had a personal stylist, and Mr. Carmody’s golf buddies came over most weekends. They were having the driveway repaved and the guest cottage repainted. Then there were delivery drivers and repairmen, oh, and the window cleaner, and that fifty doesn’t even include the guests at a party they held the previous week. You say Micah Ganaway’s a suspect, and I’ll give you a hundred other people who should be on that list. Did you cross-reference?”

There was a long pause. “I don’t have the list for Carmody.”

“You don’t have the list?”

“It appears that some of my predecessors weren’t so hot at filing.”

“You mean there was a list, and somebody lost it?”

“It’s listed on the evidence log, but it’s not in the box.”

“How about a soft copy?”

“It’s got six names on it.”

“Are you kidding me? Was everyone asleep on the job?”

“Who the hell knows? Duncan said there was a server failure a few years ago, and they had to recover the Carmody files, but some of them were corrupted, and… I’ll buy you dinner if you send me your list.”

“Is this when I give my speech about being incorruptible?”

“What if I throw in dessert?”

“What if I trade my Carmody list for your Feinstein list?”

“You strike a hard bargain, plum.”

“Is that a yes? And did you get ahold of the Metgood file yet?”

“It’s a yes, but I’m still buying you dinner. And I’ve put in a call to the lead detective on the Metgood case.”

“Is this dinner in addition to Chinese tomorrow night?”

“Do you want it to be?”

Do I want it to be? I took a moment to breathe. Every conversation with Prestia left my heart racing, and this was no exception.

“Are we talking a working dinner? Or…something else?”

“Take your pick.” His tone softened. “I just like spending time with you, Hallie.”

Freaking hell. What was I meant to say to that? Words stuck in my throat, and I was still trying to come up with an appropriate answer when I heard a small voice in the background.

“Uncle Ford? Uncle Ford! Mom says dinner’s ready.”

“I’ll be there in a second.”

“No, now. Mom says it’s ready now.”

“Guess I’ve gotta go, plum. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? And I’m buying the Chinese.”

“Okay.” The word came out as a croak, but before I could say it again, Prestia was gone.

And for the second night in a row, I barely slept a wink.