Pied Piper

CHAPTER 19

LaMoia looked forward to another meeting with Sherry Daech but could not escape the pressure of passing time. Rhonda Shotz and Hayes Weinstein were out there somewhere, counting on him. Hayes had been missing for four days; Rhonda, going on two weeks. The chances of finding them alive seemed slim. He had eaten only sporadically in the past few days. What time he found for sleep was bridled with insomnia.

Boldt had told him about McNee’s realtor friend who kept current on abandoned houses.

“The guy probably watches the obits,” Boldt had said.

“And who knows what else?”

“Find out.”

LaMoia intended to do just that.

Sherry Daech did not answer any of her numbers, but LaMoia found her Hummer parked outside the agency offices, a small white clapboard house in Wallingford. The building was locked though some lights were on. He rang the doorbell and was greeted through the glass by a man in his youthful fifties, graying hair and blue eyes. LaMoia showed his shield through the glass and was admitted.

The building’s interior felt more corporate than quaint. He entered her upstairs office with his usual swagger. However practiced and forced in junior high school, it had long since become part of his muscles and ligaments, and therefore a part of him. It telegraphed an overconfidence and conceit that his co-workers accepted and that strangers found outlandish. LaMoia was a modern-day carpetbagger; he took what he wanted. What he wanted from Sherry Daech was information. He needed a list from her; he would not leave until he had it.

Busy with paperwork, she did not look up immediately.

“Working late,” he said, greeted then by an authentic smile.

She motioned to the stacks around her. “If you do this during the day, there’s no time to sell.”

“Your partner?” he asked motioning toward the hallway.

“Business partner,” she clarified. “One of them.” She drummed her painted nails on the desktop.

“A couple of questions,” he said.

“Oh, darn.” She flashed a smile and barked an eager laugh.

“I need some help.”

“I thought you’d never ask.” The eyelashes were dyed, but effective. They beat like little wings.

“We needed a realtor. I thought of you.”

“I love making that kind of impression on people.”

“I would imagine it’s quite often.”

“Complete with a silver tongue. You must need this help pretty badly.”

“May I?” He motioned to the available chair. His legs were dog tired.

“I like you better when you’re standing,” she said, looking eye level at his rodeo belt buckle, “but okay.”

He remained standing. “A realtor must track houses that are likely to come onto the market-try to get a jump on the competition and win the listing.”

“Listings are the golden ring. Sales are great, but I get a piece of the listing even if someone else sells it.”

“Ahead of time, I’m talking about.”

“Of course. You stay ahead or you fall behind.” She adjusted herself in the chair, enjoying his company, and said, “It’s a rule that pertains to so many things in life.”

“And how do you do this?” he asked. “Other than reading the obits?”

“You’re not thinking of getting your license, are you?” She added, “I hate competition.”

“Scout’s honor.”

“You were never a scout. Too many rules for a man like you.”

“I wasn’t a man then.”

“I think you had better sit. You’re distracting me. Good. There. All right. How do I do it?” she asked, chewing on a wry smile. “Okay. Obits, of course. Sure. Divorce filings can be a gold mine. I get a lot of play out of the divorce market-the separation filings are registered downtown. Early bird gets the worm. Construction permits are a good source: couples often fix up the house before trying to sell, or they start work on a future home before committing to listing the existing one. Tricks.”

“Others?” LaMoia, for all his ability to think through crimes, had not come up with the divorce and construction angles.

“Oh, sure. I have lots of other tricks.” The same smile, but a little more forced.

He appreciated her ability, her desire, to toy with him, to flirt. He knew the game and enjoyed playing it. He trusted her because of this. She demanded another’s confidence in herself that only the best salespeople, attorneys and cops possessed. She was family. “Such as?”

“Don’t tease, Detective.”

“That is definitely the pot calling the kettle black.”

“Smaller clues? Other sources?” she inquired, knowing what he sought. “Let’s see … property taxes in arrears-that can point you toward a vacancy, and it’s a matter of public record.”

“Public records,” LaMoia mumbled, writing fast.

“They are the easiest. City water being shut off is the biggie. Private records don’t hurt, if you have access: phone, utilities. If you know someone in the insurance industry, multipolicy car insurance lapsing or a change in property coverage can signal a death. It’s a long list. Maybe we should discuss it over a drink.”

“Do you keep a list of these places? Some way to follow up?”

“A database on my machine. Sure I do. My secretary makes the cold calls for me. I do the follow-ups. It’s one of those things always running in the background, you know? Low priority. Boiling away back there. A lot of it’s wasted time, but every so often it pays off and I get a listing worth a trip to someplace warm and dry. The Biltmore in Phoenix. Ever been?”

“No.”

“Friend and I own a two-bedroom suite in the hotel, a condo deal that works out great. We each get two weeks a year. It really is amazing weather down there. Rain is just another four-letter word. Not like here.”

He asked, “Can I get a copy of the database?”

“Is this where I get to barter? Oh, goodie. How about you consider Arizona, and I consider giving you the database?”

“I’m a little busy right now.” LaMoia thought about a weekend with this one at the Biltmore: white terry cloth robes, free shampoo. Where would he rather be? The decision came easy for him: with Sheila Hill.

She said, “What is all this about anyway? Still the kidnappings?” She curled a lock of yellow blonde hair. “What do vacant houses have to do with it anyway?”

LaMoia answered honestly, “That’s what we’re trying to find out.”

He left with the promise of having the database by morning.