That didn't bother him much. Everybody had connections and used them. That was the point. Besides, wouldn't you rather get a recommendation from a close friend than have to slog through identical resumes from overachieving losers? That he got stuck working for Paulina Cole was something totally unexpected. Unlike any boss he'd ever worked for, Paulina actually scared the piss out of him.
James felt the thin camera in his pocket. Point. Click.
Done.
That's it. This guy from IT, Wilmer or Wilbur or Wilfred or something, showed him how to use it. Idiot proof was his term. James laughed at that. Wondered who the idiots were they had to design it for.
He knew the tip was good. Paulina's tips always were.
And while James was used to Paulina's volcanic temperament and mercurial attitude, James had noticed something different about her the past few weeks. Her moods had swung heavier, her demeanor more vicious, her attitudes more severe. Like she was gearing up for something big, steeling herself. Though he'd been running errands for her for going on a year now, she was never totally candid with him. He knew she was working on something big, but she refused to share the details.
In good time Jamesy, she'd said.
He counted off the doors as he walked down the hall.
703.
704.
705.
706.
He was there.
But the door was closed.
It wasn't supposed to be closed. He hadn't expected it
to be closed. He assumed it would be wide open, people coming and going, nobody noticing a thing. But opening a hospital door, man, someone would definitely notice that. If not a nurse then another patient. He couldn't see inside. A curtain was drawn. If a nurse was in there she'd sure as hell see him, and there was no way he could get it done without drawing suspicion and ruining the whole thing.
James stepped back. Took a breath. Leaned against the wall. He knew this was the very antithesis of what Paulina had advised, but fuck it, he needed a moment to regroup.
What should he do? Open the door, waltz in, pray nobody was in there? Or wait. Maybe someone would open the door and pull the curtain back. Make it easy for him.
A minute passed. Then five more. He was sweating.
He wiped his forehead with the sleeve of his jacket, saw the leather come away wet and shiny.
Time to sack up, Jim. Show the queen bitch what you're made of.
James stepped in front of the door and reached for the handle. He gripped it, closed his eyes and began to pull.
Just then the door swung outward, nearly knocking
James off his feet. When he regained his balance, a pretty nurse was standing in the doorway. She was staring at
James. His heart was racing. Ohcrap, ohcrap, ohcrap, ohcrap, ohcrap, ohcrap…
Then the nurse smiled, whispered to him.
"Are you here to see Mr. O'Donnell?"
James gulped, managed to eke out a "Yes, ma'am. I'm his nephew."
"That's sweet of you to come. He hasn't had many visitors. Mr. O'Donnell is resting right now," she said.
"But if you want to sit with him, go right ahead."
"Thanks, I appreciate it."
The nurse held the door for James. Easy as pie.
When the door eased shut, he stepped around the curtain and saw the man in bed.
He was much older than his picture in the paper.
Thinner, too, his face with a sickly gray pallor. He was breathing steadily, tubes in each nostril, an IV in his arm.
James quickly took the camera out of his pocket.
He whispered, "Say cheese, Jack."
28
The Toyz 4 Fun store was located at 136 Evergreen Court in White Plains, New York, about eight miles southeast of
Hobbs County. Since the Rent-a-Wreck company refused to deal with us after we lost their car, I was forced to make an expensive upgrade at a regular rental company. Thankfully I was now officially working the story, so I was able to expense the ride. Not to mention how much of a relief it was to drive a car that didn't feel like it was in danger of spontaneously combusting at any moment.
The conversation on the ride up was pleasant, if a little awkward. It was hard to put Jack and the Linwood story out of my mind, and I think Amanda could tell I was distracted.
The Toyz 4 Fun store was wedged between a nail salon and a paper goods shop in a strip mall right off Woodthrush. We parked in the lot next to a beat-up Camry. It was a warm day out. I had on jeans and a white T-shirt, while Amanda had on a yellow sundress. The kind of outfit that made me wish we could forget about work and just sit down on a bench somewhere, sip lemonade or do whatever normal couples did when they weren't investigating kidnappings and disappearing murder victims.
The Toyz logo had the letters spelled out on different-226
Jason Pinter colored building blocks on the awning. A play easel was set up in front of the store. Scribbled on the easel in erasable magic marker was "Deluxe Easeclass="underline" Special Price
$49.99!!!" It was nice to see an easel outside a store that didn't feature the soups of the day.
Each exclamation point was topped with a smiley face.
It was the kind of store I loved to see walking down the street when I was a kid. Not the electronics extravaganzas and smutty Bratz dolls that passed for toys these days, but the true-to-heart toy stores, with owners that cared, knew you by name, knew exactly what you wanted. I didn't get many toys when I was a kid, but the once-a-year trip to the Leapin' Lizards toy store in Bend was worth waiting those other three-hundred-and-sixty-four days.
Amanda pushed the door open and a series of wind chimes rang. I couldn't help but smile.
In front of us were rows and rows of toys. Building blocks. Play-Doh. Action figures. Lego sets. Dollhouses.
Erector sets. Everything a growing boy or girl needed to have fun and get into loads of trouble.
An elderly man sat behind the counter, thick glasses shielding kind blue eyes. His hair was sparse, combed over, but there was barely enough to do a passable job of it. He was wearing blue overalls with suspenders, like the
OshKosh kid in his waning years. He smiled when we entered. His face was lined, but his cheeks were red, veiny, and his enthusiasm was genuine.
"Corolle doll, right?" the man said. "Or if it's a boy, let me see…how about My First Pirate Set?"
"Excuse me?" I said.
"Well, I'm guessing you two to be, what? Twentyseven, twenty-eight? Thirty tops? Your kid is somewhere between three and six. Those toys are my most popular
sellers for that age group. So what'll it be? Corolle or pirates?"
"I'm sorry sir," I said. "You've got us wrong. We don't have any kids."
"Bun in the oven?" he said.
"Nope," Amanda said.
"Gift-hunting then?"
"Sorry," I said. "We're actually here because we're hoping you can answer a few questions for us."
"Oh," the man said, confused. "Okay then, what can
I do you for?"
I took the receipt from my pocket.
"Were you working here at around three-thirty on July
"Assume I was. I'm here every day unless I'm sick, and I haven't been sick in some time. My name's Freddie, by the way. Nobody will be addressed by 'sir' in this store."
"No problem, Freddie," I said. I handed the receipt across the desk. Freddie looked at me, unsure of what to do with it.
"That's a receipt from this store, right?"
He picked it up, glanced at it, said, "Looks like it."
"Is there any way you could look up in your computer and see who this receipt was issued to?"
"I'm sorry," he said. "It says here 'change'" He pointed to a line at the bottom. "Means whoever paid, paid in cash."
I grimaced. "I know it's a long shot, but is there any way you might know who purchased that item?"