Sandy Keye isn’t on the front stoop vaping. Nor is he on the sidewalk or down Ross Street. Jonah can’t find him. Sandy’s truck is still parked in the drive, which tells Jonah that he didn’t drive off or flee far. Not that he would be surprised if Sandy did, having to deal with a flirty Ricky, and Jonah’s mother, who can’t seem to remember his name, or even note his existence.
No, Jonah doesn’t have Miss Jane Marple or Hercule Poirot investigative talents, but he just might have a sliver of Agatha Christie’s deduction skills within him since he sees the fresh footprints leading to the left, off the sidewalk, and through the narrow line of Boxwood hedges and picket gate. Jonah follows the prints into the Cunningham’s yard. The size ten prints veer to the left, down and into the sloping back
