She opened the drawer beneath the wall-hung kitchen phone, took out a notepad, and quickly sketched a simple map, explaining turns and landmarks as she drew.
Dwight asked a couple of questions, then tucked the map in his pocket and turned to me. “Ready to go?”
“Not till Mrs. Shay tells us what the hell she’s done 21 with Cal.” I was so angry that I couldn’t stop my voice from shaking.
I stormed across the kitchen and threw open the door to the utility room. There, hanging on one of the pegs amid a collection of scarves and knitted headwear, was a dark blue parka. Its hood was trimmed in black fur and the smell of gardenias permeated the cloth.
C H A P T E R
23
Eleanor Prentice was bewildered as Dwight jerked the parka from its peg, sending hats and jackets flying.
“I don’t understand,” she said. “Why would you say that Laura took Cal?”
“Didn’t you hear the description of the abductor?”
“Only that you thought at first it was Jonna and then someone else.”
“This is the coat the woman was wearing,” Dwight said, almost shaking it in her face.
“But it’s not Laura’s. Her parka’s black, not navy.”
“There’s no black parka,” I said, gesturing toward the pegs beside the outer door of the utility room.
“But I know Laura. She was genuinely upset when Cal disappeared.”
“Then explain the gardenia perfume,” I said. “Oh, Dwight, she
That’s definitely something a grandmother would think to do.”
Eleanor threw up her hands. “What on earth are you talking about?”
“I slept in Cal’s room last night and somebody sneaked in and took his teddy bear. I thought I was dreaming, but whoever it was wore gardenia perfume. The same perfume as Mrs. Shay. And you said yourself that she was here alone last night. No wonder she’s not worried about Cal. She knows where he is.”
“Oh, dear Lord,” she said, sinking down on the nearest chair. “Pam?”
Now it was our turn to look bewildered.
“Pam? Jonna’s sister?” I asked.
“She uses gardenia perfume,” said Eleanor, “but I thought she was still in Tennessee.”
“Is she here? Is this her coat?”
“I don’t know.”
Dwight was already turning the pockets inside out and found nothing except some loose change and a used tis-sue. He fumbled through his own pockets for the number Agent Lewes had given him last night, grabbed the kitchen phone, and dialed it. As soon as Lewes answered, he immediately described what we had found and where.
“Yes, my ex-wife’s sister . . . Pam . . . wait a sec. What’s Pam’s last name?” he asked Eleanor.
“Morgan. Mrs. Gregory Morgan, but Laura says she may go back to Shay if it does come to a divorce.”
Dwight relayed the information, then turned again to the older woman. “What kind of car’s she driving?”
“The last time she was here, it was white. A white sedan.”
“The make?”
She shook her head helplessl.
y“Would Mrs. Shay know?”
Lewes must have said something about Tennessee’s DMV because Dwight said, “Yeah, of course, I’m not thinking straight . . . It’s Knoxville, right, Eleanor?”
She nodded, then gathered her wits and said, “Laura’s address book is in that drawer. It probably has Pam’s home phone number.”
Dwight pulled the drawer out so hard that it slipped off its rails and crashed to the floor. I began picking up the pencils and pens, rubber bands, and scratch pads that tumbled around his feet and put them back in the drawer while he plucked a leather-bound address book from the pile and soon was reading off all the numbers and street addresses listed for Pamela and Gregory Morgan. There were even two cell phone numbers, one labeled “P” and the other “G.”
“I’ll try the ‘P’ one right now,” said Dwight.
“What? . . . Yeah, we’ll be here. Damn straight we’ll be here.”
He broke the connection and dialed the number for Pam Morgan’s cell phone. A moment later, he said,
