“Best I could tell,” the ogre replied.
“How’d she react to seeing you at her door?”
“She started crying.”
Tom laughed before remembering that it made his nose hurt like hell. “The first time your mother saw you, she must’ve cried, too.”
Rather than take offense, Frank grinned. “It scared that Sanchez woman out of her wits when I asked how old her kids were now. Believe me, she’s not gonna talk to Bowie.”
“Bowie may contact Billy Oliver’s lawyer. The old coot was there when it happened.”
“I thought of that,” Frank said. “We’re in luck. The old coot has since died.”
“What about Mitch Haskell?”
“He finally called me back. Said he hadn’t seen Bowie for months. So long ago he couldn’t remember exactly when it was. They had a falling-out over Bowie’s binge drinking.”
“Do you believe that?”
“I wouldn’t, except that he said his wife had laid down the law for him to stay away from Bowie, or else no pussy. Between Bowie and the wife, the wife won.”
Tom was still doubtful of Haskell, but he moved on. “Learn anything more about how they got out of the hotel?”
The ogre shook his head. “The security camera videos are only good for twelve hours before they’re recorded over. We don’t even have him entering the lobby.”
“Fabulous.” Tom picked up a pen on his desk and began fiddling with it. “Who else would Bowie try to contact?”
“That Mellin harpy. I sent one of my men to the trailer park where she’d lived. She’s no longer there. He’s trying to track her down.”
“She can’t be far. She gave Crisis Point an interview.”
“They could have recorded the interview in Key West or freakin’ Anchorage. Besides, she wouldn’t give Bowie the time of day. She despises him for not finding her daughter.”
“I guess.” Making Tom more miserable than his throbbing nose was the thought of John Bowie getting the better of him. “You know what would help?”
“Bowie getting hit by a Mack truck?”
“If the Mellin girl’s body was discovered.”
Pensively the ogre asked, “Do you ever wonder who took her and what happened to her?”
“Not really, no. But I wish that one of these days somebody would step into a shallow grave, or get their fishing line tangled up on an arm or a leg and pull her out of a bayou. Once she’d been identified, we could point to her remains and say, ‘So that’s where Billy Oliver dumped her.’ His granny is no longer with us to dispute his guilt.”
“Everyone would shake their heads in sorrow,” he went on wistfully. “Then that would be the last they ever thought of it. We could close the case for good, and the disillusioned former detective John Bowie, along with his worthless allegations against me, would be ridiculed.”
Frank chuckled. “That’s some daydream, Tom.”
“It’s my wet dream.”
Chapter 23
John and Beth’s return to the fishing camp sent Mutt into a frenzy of joy. “He’s going to drive us nuts if he doesn’t burn off some energy,” John said.
He stayed outside to play fetch the stick. Beth sat down at her computer and emailed Professor Wallace an invitation for their Zoom, then called Max. To her disappointment, she got his voice mail. She left a second message, urging him to call her back.
Again, she considered calling Richard and asking him to track Max down, but she rejected the idea for the same reason as before: She didn’t want to ring an alarm bell before conferring with Max on how to finesse Brady.
John and Mutt came inside. He filled Mutt’s water bowl and took a bottle of water for himself from the fridge. He asked Beth, “Any luck?”
“In reaching Max, no. When he doesn’t want to be found, he accidentally-on-purpose forgets where he left his phone. The Zoom with the professor is at five-fifteen. Will you sit in?”
“I’d like to hear what he has to say about the blood moon mystique.”
“He was in a rush, so I didn’t tell him specifically why I was reaching out, only that I was doing research for a Crisis Point episode.”
While listening, John had also been checking his various phones for messages. “Gayle Morris texted five minutes ago. Said to call.”
“Probably in response to what you told her about Billy.”
He accessed her number. She answered right away. They exchanged cursory greetings; then John said, “I’m putting you on speaker so Beth can listen in. What did you think about Billy Oliver’s faux confession?”
“John, if that was rigged, your department has raised the bar on police corruption.”
“It’s no longer my department, Gayle.”
“Pardon?”