Rufus actually barked again at this, and so Ted patted his head affectionately.“All right. If that’s what you want, that’s what we’ll do.”
“Amazing,” said Harriet, and I think she spoke for all of us when she said that.
And so now our small company had been expanded with one human, which was a good thing. Humans always come in handy. And even though Ted is a bookkeeper and not a detective, bookkeepers have an innate sleuthing capacity, as they’re always looking through your accounts trying to find what you did wrong, and to look for those loopholes the taxman hasn’t closed up yet. And we hadn’t even reached the end of the block when Marcie also joined us. She’s Ted’s wife, you see, and I assume when Ted was texting moments before, that he was texting his wife, and telling her what was going on.
“So we’re trying to find a missing girl?” said Marcie, confirming my suspicions. “Rufus will find her for us, won’t you, boy?”
“Yes, Marcie,” said Rufus happily, cocking an eyebrow at Harriet as if saying, ‘See?They believe in me.’
And just when we were about to set out on our adventure, suddenly one more addition appeared on the scene in the form of Fifi.“I escaped, you guys,” she said, panting happily. “But don’t tell Kurt, okay?”
“We won’t,” I assured the tiny doggie.
“So what’s going on?”
“We’re looking for a missing girl,” Rufus said, and gestured once more to that poster on the lamppost. “And we could sure use your help, Fifi.”
“You got it, Chief!” said Fifi. “Let’s go!”
6
“So what do you think, Uncle Alec?” asked Odelia.
“I have absolutely no idea,” her uncle grumbled as he dragged a hand across his scalp.
Abe Cornwall, the county coroner, hadn’t arrived yet—they all hoped he would be able to tell them what was going on, and if a crime had been committed here. “What do you think, Chase?” she asked her husband, who stood inspecting the nearby car wreck.
“I think whoever owns this piece of junk should probably get rid of it,” he grunted.
“I can tell you who owns it, but it won’t do you much good,” said the Chief. “Blake Carrington owns the land, and that wreck used to belong to his son Steven, who wrecked it in a street car race one night about ten years ago.”
Chase quirked an eyebrow.“A street car race?”
Uncle Alec nodded.“You’re probably too young to remember, Odelia, but we had a real problem with kids using the streets of Hampton Cove as the scene for their street races. This went on for a couple of summers, until Steven Carrington crashed his car and died on impact. That pretty much ended that particular pastime. His father never got over the death of his son, and decided to leave the wreck as a shrine to his boy.”
“It happened here?”
“It happened right here.”
Odelia’s and Chase’s eyes now traveled to the bones that were spread out on the ground, then to the rags lying next to them. Chase crouched down and inspected what looked like the remnants of a jersey. “There’s letters here,” he said. “Looks like… an insignia of some kind. I can make out anS, an E…”
“What was the name of Carrington’s son?” asked Odelia.
“Um, Steven,” said Uncle Alec, then his eyes widened slightly. “You don’t think…”
“I think these bones just might belong to Steven Carrington.”
“That’s impossible. I was at Steven’s funeral. He’s buried at St. John’s cemetery.”
“So maybe his father had him reinterred here?” Chase suggested.
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” the Chief suggested. “Let’s just sit tight and wait for Abe to tell us what’s going on. Though I have to admit that it’s a mighty big coincidence that these bones would belong to a person wearing the same jersey Steven Carrington might have been buried in.”
[Êàðòèíêà: img_2]
Tex had been thinking hard all the way to the office, and by the time he arrived there the vague contours of a plan had formed in his mind. What helped him formulate said plan was the fact that he was, after all, a doctor, and as such used to dealing with the kind of issues that trouble a person. He was facing a problem and so all he had to do was think up an appropriate solution. It’s what he did on a daily basis with his patients, so now he was going to apply that same logic to himself and the problem he was facing.
He arrived at the office and was surprised to find that Vesta was already seated behind her desk, playing Scrabble on her computer.
“You got here early,” he said.
“Yeah, I thought I’d start half an hour earlier so I can take a long break. Scarlett wants me to meet this uncle of hers who flew in from Tahiti yesterday. Guy worked there all his life as a missionary, and now he’s finally coming home to retire.”
“Scarlett’s uncle is a missionary? How old is he?”
“Ninety-six. He’s fit for an old geezer. She showed me some pictures, and he’s still driving a car and hauling water from his well.”
“So why is he retiring?”
“He feels he’s worked hard enough, and now he wants to have some fun.”
“Have some fun!”
“Yeah, he wants to travel, see the world. Maybe meet a woman and settle down.”
“But… you said he’s a missionary?”
“Uh-huh. So?”
“So aren’t missionaries supposed to be celibate?”
“I don’t know, Tex. But I’ll be sure to ask him.”
“Ninety-six,” said Tex. Then a sudden thought occurred to him. “Do you have a picture of this guy?”
“Sure.” Vesta took out her phone and showed him a picture of a robust-looking man who looked not a day over sixty. Most importantly: he had a full head of hair!
“Well, I’ll be damned,” said Tex as he studied the picture of the rosy-cheeked nonagenarian.
“You don’t mind, do you, that I take a long lunch?”
“No, absolutely not,” he said, “on one condition.”
“Which is?”
“That you introduce me to Scarlett’s uncle.” He tapped the picture, causing it to zoom in on that amazing crop of healthy hair. “I want to ask him something very important.”
7
Our small procession was still going nicely, though I could tell that Ted and Marcie were a little uncertain on how to proceed. Rufus was leading the way, and so far his humans were indulging him and allowing him to lead.
“Don’t you think we should focus our energy on that skeleton?” Fifi said now. “I feel like it’s important. There’s a story there, Max. Bones always tell a story.” She licked her lips, indicating that her interest in those bones might be personal. Clearly she hadn’t completely given up on the pleasing prospect of burying them—dogs will be dogs.
“And I think it’s more important to find a person who might still be alive, instead of the people responsible for putting a skeleton in some field somewhere,” I returned.
She thought about this for moment, and finally had to admit I had a point.
We’d arrived in downtown Hampton Cove, and proceeded to the point where Angel had said goodbye to her friends, before venturing off on her own—never a sound proposition when under the influence of alcohol and being all by yourself in the middle of the night. Though I think the first probably accounted for the second: alcohol has a tendency to make a person lose the capacity to make the right decisions.
The Cocky Cauldron is one of those new clubs where all the cool people go. It’s not much to look at during the daytime but at night they turn on the neon lights and the place is rocking. Or so I’ve heard. Thumping music and a throng of revelers is not my cup of tea.
“So this is where Angel was last seen?” I asked, just to make sure.
“Yeah, according to her friends this is where they left her,” said Shanille.
We turned to Rufus and Fifi, and Harriet said,“Show us what you’re made of. Sniff!”