Say Goodbye

THIRTEEN

KIMBERLY FOUND SAL AT THE ATLANTA BREAD COMPANY. He was munching on a sandwich, a smear of mayo dotting his right cheek. Though he’d agreed to the rendezvous, he still appeared wary as she approached.

“Sprouts?” she asked, inspecting his lunch. “Funny, you didn’t strike me as a sprouts man.”

“Hey, I like veggies. Besides, after Sausage McMuffins for breakfast…”

“You ever cook, Sal?”

“As little as possible.”

“Me, too.”

She took a seat, sliding her brown leather saddlebag from her shoulder and digging around for her lunch.

“Are you eatin’ pudding again?” Sal wanted to know.

“Cottage cheese with blueberries. Gotta get protein somehow.”

“How far along?”

“Nearly twenty-two weeks.”

“Don’t look it.”

“It’s the pudding,” she assured him. “Have kids?”

He shook his head. “Don’t even have a wife.”

“Hasn’t stopped other guys from procreating.”

“True, but I’m a traditionalist. Or a procrastinator. Haven’t decided which. Does it move?”

“What, the baby?”

“Yes, the baby. It’s not like I care about cottage cheese.”

“Yeah, she’s starting to. Lots of little movements that get progressively worse if I’m trying to eat or sleep. If I’m doing nothing, of course, she’s perfectly quiet.”

“She?”

“That’s my guess. Mac wants a boy. Major league pitcher, I think. What’s with you guys?”

“Sports matter,” Sal said seriously. “What else would we do on Monday nights?”

Kimberly dug into her cottage cheese. She had a lot to report, but figured it was only fair to let Sal call the shots. He probably had some aggression to work out. Sure enough, he got straight into it.

“Nice, Quincy. Tossing me a name like that. Just enough information to make me feel like you cared without actually putting out. I have to say, at least when I got screwed, it was by a class act.”

“Think I shoulda told you ’bout the ring, huh?”

“It crossed my mind.”

Kimberly spread her hands. She’d given this some thought, and this was the best she could offer. “Look: We can spend the next fifteen minutes with you feeling pissy because I didn’t share the ring, and me feeling pissy because you tried to muscle in on an informant who’d already asked for me, or we can agree that we’re both aggressive investigators, and get on with the matters at hand.”

“I don’t trust you, you don’t trust me, but because we’re both untrustworthy, we oughtta get along fine?”

“Exactly.”

Sal considered the matter. “Fair enough,” he conceded. “Proceed.”

He finished his sandwich, dabbing at his face. He missed the mayo on his cheek, and without thinking, she reached across the table and got it with her finger. The intimacy of the gesture struck her after the fact, and she sat back, embarrassed.

“So, ummm”-she dug around in her cottage cheese, fishing for a blueberry-“Delilah Rose gave me a class ring that allegedly belonged to Ginny Jones. I traced the ring to Tommy Mark Evans, who graduated from Alpharetta High School in oh-six. Ginny Jones was one of his classmates.”

“They were an item?”

“Coach Urey didn’t think so. His memory was that Tommy had been dating a girl named Darlene Angler for most of the season, but maybe broke up before graduation. He wasn’t clear on that detail. I spoke to the school secretary, however, and she’s getting her hands on a yearbook for us. Hopefully that’ll arrive by end of week. She looked up Virginia Jones for me-”

“Without a warrant?” Sal asked in surprise.

“I was using my nice voice. Besides, that’s why you ask the secretary. They’re preprogrammed to look up files for everyone at any time. They don’t stop to ask why.”

“Good point.”

“So, Ginny attended Alpharetta for four years, but didn’t graduate. Dropped out in February. Never returned. According to her files, calls were made to her home, but never answered. Finally, there’s a yellow sticky with a handwritten note-‘family appears to have left town.’ Guess that was the end of matters.

“Ginny had one parent listed as guardian. A mother, Veronica L. Jones. I made a couple of quick phone calls: Veronica L. Jones used to work as a waitress at the Hungryman Diner, but according to the manager, she no-showed her shifts and they never heard from her again. They do, however, have a last paycheck for her to pick up, should I locate her current whereabouts.”

Sal’s eyes widened. “She left behind a paycheck? That doesn’t sound good.”

“Don’t think it is. The Joneses owned a house in Alpharetta. The town filed a lien against it in the spring of oh-seven to collect back property taxes. House is now in foreclosure. I couldn’t find any trace of a missing persons report filed for either Veronica or Virginia Jones, and yet both of them are clearly gone.”

“As of February oh-six?” Sal asked with a frown.

Kimberly shrugged. “February is when Ginny stopped attending school, so I would assume somewhere in that time frame.”

“But according to your friend Delilah Rose, Ginny didn’t disappear until three months ago, November oh-seven. So color me confused.”

“Ah, but this is where the phone call gets interesting. Assume for a moment that the woman on the tape is Ginny’s mother, Veronica Jones.”

“She says she is, so good assumption.”

“Well, let’s say she was kidnapped in February oh-six. Now, Ginny comes home, but it’s an empty house. And night after night, it remains an empty house. Ginny could do the sensible thing and contact the authorities, but what kind of teenager does that? Instead, she splits. Maybe she has friends in Sandy Springs, or thinks it’ll be great to go clubbing for a bit, live on the wild side, never have a curfew…”

“Takes off to party, gets sucked into the scene, never gets back out.”

“Yeah. So mom’s victim number one.”

“And nearly two years later,” Sal filled in skeptically, “Ginny is victim number two?”

“Actually,” Kimberly said, “Ginny is victim number three.”

“Tommy Mark Evans graduated from Alpharetta in June oh-six. Star quarterback, magna cum laude, all-round hometown hero. Got a full scholarship to Penn State and took off for college in the fall. He returned for Christmas break. December twenty-seventh, he told his parents he was going out for a drive. Never came home.

“They found his truck three days later, tucked back on an old dirt road. Tommy was slumped over the wheel, dead from a double-tap to the forehead.”

Sal arched a brow. “Someone’s been watching The Sopranos. Any evidence the kid was into drugs? Using, dealing? Maybe the landscape changed while he was outta town, and the new kingpin didn’t like him coming back.”

“Coach Urey didn’t think so, but he believes the sun rose and set on Tommy’s shoulders, so I’d take his opinion with a grain of salt. Alpharetta PD handled the investigation. According to Urey, they never developed any major leads or made an arrest. The parents are still pretty torn up about it, losing their son at Christmas like that.”

“So now we got one missing parent and one dead classmate, both linked to Ginny Jones. Any other tragedies at Alpharetta I should know about?”

Kimberly shrugged. “Hell, it’s a big town. We’re probably only beginning. That’s why you should talk to the Alpharetta police.”

“Me?”

“They’ll take your call before mine. Besides, technically speaking, I’m not even on the case. I did all this out of the kindness of my heart.”

Sal appeared wary again. Kimberly didn’t blame him. What overworked fed ever did anything out of the kindness of her heart? Still, she thought a thank-you would be nice.

No such luck.

“I want the ring,” Sal declared. “My case, my evidence.”

“It’s secured in the evidence vault,” she assured him. “I’ll arrange for the transfer.”

“Anything else you haven’t told me?”

Kimberly started to say no, then realized she’d left out one other rather salient fact, and sighed. “Ummm, possibly Delilah Rose mentioned that Ginny Jones was last seen with a customer going by the alias Mr. Dinchara.”

“Mr. Dinchara?”

“An anagram for ‘arachnid.’ Apparently, Dinchara likes to bring his pets along. You know, nothing like a night out with your favorite tarantula.”

Sal appeared positively mesmerized. “No shit?”

“Not in the least. Guess no one else has mentioned him yet?”

“I think I would remember a story like that. What does he do with his spiders?”

“Oh, have them roam various body parts of the girls. Or, if he paid extra, watch.”

“Watch?”

“Ever get the feeling the world is becoming a freakier and freakier place?”

“Only every time I watch a reality TV show. So, a Mr. Dinchara with a pet tarantula. Hell, shouldn’t be too hard to get a bead on a customer that unique. What was his involvement with Jones?”

“He was a client. Guess the spiders didn’t bother Ginny; as you can guess they didn’t worry Ms. Rose-apparently she has a soft spot for all things with eight legs. However, in addition to last seeing Ginny with Mr. Dinchara, Delilah claims she found Tommy’s class ring on the floor of Dinchara’s SUV. Ginny used to wear the ring around her neck on a chain, like a talisman. Delilah implied there was no way Ginny would’ve willingly left the ring behind.”

Sal was back to frowning. “If Ginny wore Tommy’s ring around her neck, wouldn’t that imply to you that they were more than classmates?”

“Generally, the wearing of a fellow’s ring is a sign of more than friends.”

“So clearly there is more to Tommy Mark Evans than Coach Urey suspects.”

“There always is. But if Ginny and Tommy were so tight, why did Ginny take off? Last I knew, landing a hunky, varsity quarterback boyfriend would give any teenage girl reason to stay. I mean, the bragging rights alone…”

“We’re talking ourselves in circles,” Sal said with a sigh.

“Lack of information will do that to you.”

“Bottom line, we now have ten missing females, one dead high school quarterback, one class ring connecting Missing Female A with Dead Male B, and one creepy-crawly mystery man. Anything I missed?”

“Ten dead bodies.”

He scowled. “Anything else?”

She shrugged, more serious this time. “The only real lead we have.”

“Which is?”

“Delilah Rose.”