A Shred of Evidence (14 page)

“Yeah, okay Get some rest.”

Will put his feet up on his desk and took a sip of coffee, aware of Bryce’s footsteps moving down the hall. If Ross Hamilton was involved in his daughter’s disappearance, then whose unidentified fingerprints were found on the windowsill?

G
ordy Jameson picked up Thursday morning’s newspaper and tucked it under his arm. He turned the key in the front door of Gordy’s Crab Shack and stepped inside, the scent of old wood bringing a smile to his face. He paused for a moment and looked around at cherished reminders of happier times: The prized peacock bass his father had caught in Brazil; the grouping of autographed photos Jenny had taken of celebrities who’d eaten there; the collection of shells, starfish, and seahorses his mother had attached to the fish netting draped from the ceiling; and the rod and reel his uncle had given him after Gordy caught his first sailfish. How old had he been—nine? Maybe ten? Not much taller than the side rail on the old Boston Whaler.

He walked over to a framed eight-by-ten photo of him standing with Jenny and his parents as his father handed Gordy the keys to the crab shack. How present they seemed in this place that felt as comfortable as an old shoe and held more memories for him than any place else.

Gordy heard the door open and saw a glint of sunlight flash on the wall. He turned around. “Mornin’, Billy.”

“Good mor-ning, Mister G,” Billy Lewis said, heading straight for the supply closet. “I will work now.”

“Whoa, where’s the fire? Hold on a minute. Let me unlock that back door for you.”

Gordy went over and unlocked the deadbolt, then pushed it open. “There you go. Have at it.”

Billy brushed past Gordy without looking up, his bucket of supplies in hand, and went out on the back deck. Within seconds, he began spraying Clorox water on the nearest table.

Gordy chuckled and shook his head. When Billy was focused on a task, there was no stopping him.

The front door opened again and Eddie Drummond walked in.

“Mornin’, Eddie. What’re you doin’ here this early?”

“I snuck out for a coffee break. I need to talk to you privately.”

“Sure, okay I’m the only one here except for Billy, and he’s out cleaning the deck. What’s on your mind?”

Eddie slid into a booth next to a window, and Gordy sat across from him.

“You want coffee?” Gordy said.

“No, I can’t stay long.”

“You looked stressed. What’s wrong?”

Eddie cracked his knuckles. “I know who spray-painted the Hamiltons’ garage door, but I don’t want to get him in trouble with the cops—and especially not the FBI.”

“I doubt the FBI has much interest in the spray-painter unless he was involved in takin’ Hamilton’s daughter.”

“No, no. Nothing like that,” Eddie said. “He’s just a good
ol’
boy who got fired up about scarin’ off a child molester.”

Come on, Eddie Jess up. You’ll feel better
. “Guess he’d better be talkin’ to Will about this.”

Eddie sighed. “That’s why I’m here. Would you do it?”

“Me?”

“I can’t snitch on a buddy. I could never show my face at The Cove again.”

“I thought you were talkin’ about you,” Gordy said. “So this is one of your drinkin’ buddies?”

“Yeah. Took me aside last night. Told me everything.”

“Did anyone else hear him?”

“I don’t think so.” Eddie wrung his hands. “Look, if the cops
realize how harmless this guy is, it’s bound to broaden their thinking and help in the search for the little girl. He had nothing to do with it.”

“And it might make Hamilton look even more suspicious? Nice try.”

“Come on, Gordo. It would be wrong for me keep this to myself, and you know it.”

“As long as
I’m
the one to tell the cops?”

Eddie’s eyebrows formed an arch. “Please?”

“Who’s the guy?”

“Charlie Pan.”

“The gorilla with the red beard?”

“Yeah. Look, the guy’s really a pussycat. He heard me raggin’ on Ross Hamilton at a poker game Sunday night. After downing a couple of six-packs, Charlie got a little bold. He’d like to admit what he’s done and get it out of the way. Says he’s nervous about getting involved with the FBI. But I’m sure he’d talk to Chief Seevers.”

“And how do you propose I tell Will I found out this information? A little birdie told me?”

Eddie threw up his hands. “Please, Gordo. I really don’t wanna get in the middle of this; I’m in enough trouble as it is. I know the guy had nothing to do with the Hamilton girl’s disappearance. He wouldn’t hurt a flea.”

Gordy mulled over everything Eddie had said. “You’ve always shot straight with me.”

“And I am now, I swear.”

“All right. I’ll pass this on to Will. But I’m not takin’ the heat if it blows up. Deal?”

Eddie nodded. “Man, I hope they find the little girl alive. The whole thing makes me sick. It’s all I can do not to lock my daughter in the house till this is over.”

“You’re absolutely sure this Charlie Pan couldn’t have done it?”

“I’d stake my life on it, Gordo. Really.”

Ellen Jones felt warm lips pressed to her cheek and opened her eyes.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Guy said. “It’s going on nine. You going to sleep all day?”

Ellen stretched and rolled on her side facing him. “Why’d you let me sleep so late?”

“Is there someplace you need to be?”

She smiled. “No, I’m retired, remember?”

“Ah, but I’m not. And I need to go in my study and close the door and concentrate on the Brinkmont case. Your coffee and newspaper are on the veranda, Madam.”

“You’re so good to me. I don’t deserve you.”

“No, you don’t.” Guy laughed and hurried to the door, as if he were waiting for her to fire a pillow at him. “I’m just a prince of a guy. See you at lunch.”

Ellen chuckled and lay quietly listening to his footsteps grow faint, then got up and put on her bathrobe.

She flipped on the
TV
and surfed channels for several minutes, hoping for some breaking news about Sarah Beth, but all she found was regular programming.

She went out to the veranda and poured herself a cup of coffee, then sat in the wicker rocker, opened the
North Coast Messenger
, and read the headlines:

Ellen studied the color photograph of the cute little redhead until her eyes clouded over. She’d almost given up hope Sarah Beth would be found alive.

Ellen was at the same time angry and sorrowful. This did not have to happen. If only DCF would have moved more quickly to remove Sarah Beth from the home!

Gordy went in his office and dialed Police Chief Seevers’s cell phone.

“Seevers.”

“Will, it’s Gordy. I heard somethin’ you need to know. There’s a good chance a guy named Charlie Pan spray-painted the Hamiltons’ house. He’s a real moose—stands about six five. Red beard. Hangs out at the—”

“Yeah, I’m familiar with the guy. Where’d you hear this?”

“I’m not at liberty to say.”

“There’s no such thing as snitch-snitchee privilege. Give me a name.”

“Sorry, Will. Would you just talk to Charlie and see if he confesses? He got a little drunk and thought he was doin’ the town a favor. I’m pretty sure he had nothin’ to do with the Hamilton girl’s disappearance. He’s nervous about talkin’ to the FBI, but he’d talk to you.”

“Anything else I ought to know?”

“That’s all I’ve got.”

“Okay, Gordy, thanks. I’ll get it checked out. Keep your ears open for anything else. Oh, I almost forgot: Margaret wants you to come to dinner Sunday Think you could leave that restaurant of yours for a few hours and let her serve you a home-cooked meal?”

“Sure, sounds great. Wait a minute … is this a set up?”

Will chuckled. “Would it be so bad if she tried to fix you up with someone?”

“Depends on the someone. No lady’s gonna come close to bein’ like Jenny. You know that.”

“Come on, Gordy. It’s been three years. It’s time you moved on with your life.”

“I like my life. Where do you think I oughta move it?”

“Be honest. Don’t you get lonely?”

“Not at work. Jenny’s so much a part of this place it helps me cope.”

“Aren’t you ready to do better than just cope?”

“I don’t know how. That woman was the best thing that ever happened to me.”