Mindy’s whole demeanor seemed a thousand times lighter. Sometimes, a confession will do that for a person. She strode over to the bed and flopped down on the mattress, crossed her shapely legs.
“When Vinny cut out the way he did, boy oh boy, Ed Thompson really started to panic! There were files missing, and other things, too.”
“What other things?”
“Funny as it seems…a picture on my desk. It was a photo he’d given me before the war.”
Jack rose from the armchair, dipped a hand in his pocket. “Not this one?” He brought out the small oval- framed photo, walked to the bed, sat next to her on the mattress.
“Omigosh! Where did you find that!”
“Dorothy Kerns gave it to me. Apparently, Vincent sent this to her right before he disappeared.”
“But why?”
“I don’t know.”
Sending the photo in the first place seemed odd to Jack, but sending one that was out of date and belonged to another woman was odder still. He couldn’t figure it unless Vincent Tattershawe was truly a heel, sending Dorothy a gesture of trumped-up sentiment to throw off her scent while he went on the lam with her money.
“Can I have that picture back?” Mindy asked, reaching for it.
Jack gently pulled it beyond her grasp. “Sorry, Miss Corbett. I can’t.”
She slumped again, letting out a sad sigh.
“Listen, Mindy, you’ve been a big help. But there’s one more thing. Do you know anything about Ogden Heating and Cooling?”
Mindy repeated the name with a puzzled look.
“It’s an air conditioner manufacturing company,” Jack explained. “Do you think it could be one of your firm’s phony investment schemes?”
“I’ve never heard of it, and believe me, I know the list of fake companies like the back of my hand.”
Jack nodded. “Well, listen, baby, I guess that’s about all I need from you.”
He pushed off the bed, rising to his feet. “Tell you what…when I find Vincent Tattershawe, and I fully expect to, I’ll ask him to get you another photo, maybe a more recent one.”
Mindy stood too, gave Jack a sad smile. “I don’t want a more recent one. I liked looking at the older picture. It reminded me of the old times, know what I mean?”
Jack nodded, slipped the photo back into his pocket. “I know.”
Mindy stepped closer, gazed up at him with big olive soaked eyes. “That’s nice of you, anyway, to try replacing my photo.”
Jack smelled the alcohol, but his real drink was perfume, and hers hadn’t worn off yet; it was still there, light and sweet.
“You’re really thoughtful, Jack. You remind me of Vinny in some ways…what I mean is, you seem like a really nice guy…”
“I’m not.”
“But I bet you could be…for a little while, right?”
“I could be.”
THE NEXT MORNING, Jack woke up in the hotel bed. Mindy was gone and he wasn’t surprised. He figured she was already regretting her decision to talk, but he planned on looking her up again anyway—after this case was closed.
He showered, shaved, dressed, and headed downstairs to find two police cruisers parked on the street near the alley between the hotel and the movie house.
Jack still knew cops from his days in the department. He tossed a short nod to Jimmy Martin, a middle-aged sergeant he’d worked with as a rookie.
“Hey, Jimmy, what’s the news?”
“Mugging and murder, I’m sorry to say.”
“Who’s the victim?”
“Young lady. Nice-lookin’ one too.”
Jack stiffened. “Young lady?”
“Yeah, too young to end up shot to death. Looks like they roughed her up before they killed her. Think you can identify her?”
“Don’t know.”
“Take a look, then.”
Jack stepped into the alley, pushed through the wall of uniforms, and felt his stomach drop. Left in a heap next to the garbage cans was Mindy Corbett, shot through the heart.
CHAPTER 12
His smile was stiff as a frozen fish.
—Raymond Chandler,
JACK’S DREAM, WHICH ended more like a nightmare, should have prepared me for what was coming the next day. It didn’t.
Tuesday morning began like any other, apart from my postdream disorientation. I crawled out of bed as soon as the alarm went off, not sure if I was in Jack’s century or mine. But after a cup of coffee, I managed to shower, dress, dry my hair, and stop wondering what Jack was going to do next to find his missing person, and whether he felt guilty about Mindy’s fate.
All the while I was thinking about this stuff, I expected Jack to break into my thoughts and answer me. But he never did.
Anticipating my meeting with Mrs. McConnell, Spencer’s principal, I chose a suitably matronly, nonthreatening outfit from my closet—a long, gray wool skirt, black low-heeled boots, and an oversized black turtleneck. Vaguely aware that my outfit would have raised absolutely no eyebrows in the 1940s, as well as today, I went to wake my son.
To my surprise, Spencer’s bedroom was empty, save for our snoozing marmalade-striped cat, Bookmark, which Sadie had given to Spencer as a kitten on the day we’d moved in.
The bathroom all three of us shared was also vacant, so I hunted through the apartment. The television was quiet, but I checked the living room anyway. Empty. The dining room was empty, too. I finally found Spencer in the kitchen. He was standing at the sink, washing out his cereal bowl, his back turned to me. It was more than a half hour before the school bus arrived, but he was already dressed and ready for class.
“Up early, aren’t you?”
Spencer jumped, startled, then reddened with guilt. I spied his backpack on the counter, his bicycle helmet sitting next to it. I tumbled onto his scheme immediately. He’d almost made it, too. If Spencer had skipped breakfast, he would have outfoxed me.
“You are not riding your bike to school,” I said.
“Why not?”
“Because avoiding the bus is not the way to solve this problem.”
The bowl clattered—too loudly—in the drying tray. Spencer tossed his still-damp spoon into the silverware bin.
“Get ready to go. I’m driving you.”
Spencer rolled his eyes and yanked his backpack off the counter. I could tell by his expression that he was sorry I hadn’t changed my mind about seeing Mrs. McConnell to discuss what had happened on the bus the day before.
My son continued his sullen silence in the car. While I never condoned pouting, I understood his reasons. It was bad enough that he was bullied and humiliated in front of his classmates. Now his mother was going to have a talk with the principal about the matter.
